“The fire, baby. It will burn us both...”

[Letho]

((Closed to Ira Shinkara.))

Letho hated going on wild goose chases, and that went double if that chase led him into an inhospitable land such as Fallien. In many ways, Fallien was like Haidia only without the roof. The heat was about the same, the xenophobia wasn’t too far off either and the only difference was that the demonic folk from the underground realm was now replaced by the sunburnt locals that wore funny looking, multi-layer outfits that Letho classified as really peculiar type of robes. Well, there was actually another thing that irked the hell out of him. While the temperature in Haidia was rather uncomfortable, that went double when it came to Fallien due to the restless sun that wanted to scorch the already singed piece of earth. Even though he and Myrhia were both Daywalkers – vampires that could handle sunlight – the excessive daily illumination combined with the heat wasn’t something they enjoyed.

Well, at least one of them didn’t. Unlike Letho, Myrhia didn’t allow for the environment to quench her chirpy spirits. She felt the discomfort the same as Letho – more so due to her extremely pale skin complexion – but the exotic beauty of the foreign land was simply too intriguing to be overlooked because of some mild nuisance. So while Letho walked through the Irrakam streets as if he was being led to his own funeral, the redhead was rather gleeful at his side, tugging him from one vendor to the other as she checked out the eerily wares. She seldom bought anything during her browsing – her coyness always reluctant to spend some of their hard earned money – but today that was not the case. Dangling from her ears were a pair of newly acquired earrings made out of genuine Fallien glass (or so the hawker said) and around her neck, somewhat covering the nasty black tattoo, was a necklace made out of what seemed like the same emerald glass bits. And because of this gift she was as happy as a child.

But purchasing outlandish wares wasn’t why the pair was in Fallien capitol. No, it was the wild goose chase, similar to the one they went on in Haidia mere weeks ago. The brass that commanded the Corone Rangers had another lead about the mysterious Coalition, an organization that was supposed to have its origins in Corone, but acted outside its boundaries. In Haidia they allegedly sponsored an insurrection of the locals with a sole purpose to weaken the demon realm, but the actual proof that Letho managed to gather from his investigation was mostly rumors and hearsay. He got in heaps of trouble though, both of them did on that occasion, but the statements of the witnesses never revealed any detail about the Coalition. It was a ghost organization, existing between the unreal and the real, and Marshal Letho Ravenheart was sent to the location they would supposedly strike next.

However, besides the rather suspicious looks from most of the locals that made him feel unwelcome, there was nothing amiss in Irrakam. The Marshal requested an audience with Jya, but the list was so long, he was bound to get to talk with the Fallien queen some time next month. So he stuck to the streets, talking to the few that actually wanted to share some information, but he was getting nowhere except blind alleys. If the Coalition was present in the Fallien capitol, they were either keeping a low profile or the info was wrong and this cell was dormant. Letho didn’t mind too much. It was basically a paid vacation for Myrhia and him.

“Letho, I’m hungry. Could be get something to eat? I think I saw a nice little restaurant where they serve that spicy stuff we ate the day before yesterday.” the redhead that clung to his arm asked, looking up at him with a mild smile. The pair of earrings – jewelry she never wore until their visit to Fallien – dangled gingerly from her lobes, its color in sync with her doe eyes. Attired in her short scarlet skirt and a sleeveless tank-top of the same color, she was a vision of beauty to him despite the fact that she was nothing more then a scrawny lass with unremarkable figure. The spicy stuff she mentioned was a local dish that Letho couldn’t quite figure out, consisted of what seemed like strips of some sort of pastry and chunks of meat seasoned in a manner that made it peppery enough for both of them to break a sweat while eating. Still, it was a pleasant taste, especially once it was washed down with a sip of wine.

“Didn’t you burn your tongue enough the last time? The waiter had to refill your glass twice before it stopped burning.” he responded with a mild smirk, walking down the cobbles of one of the multitude of Irrakam streets. The leather coat that usually covered his body was gone due to heat, leaving him in a pair of dark blue denim pants and a white linen shirt that still smelled like the soap Myrhia used to wash it.

“I wasn’t ready that time. It was steaming hot and spicy and I put too much of it in my mouth.” she replied. “But I’ll take it easy this time.”

“Alright. But don’t you come running to me in the middle of the night, asking to get you a glass of water.”

Of course she would and of course he would fetch her the water. There was nothing Letho wouldn’t do for the redhead nowadays. The pair made their way into the terrace of the restaurant whose name the Marshal couldn’t catch from the sign and soon they were sipping on the white wine and waiting for their order. The scent that was coming from the kitchen was pleasant, provoking even more hunger in their bellies, but suddenly it was replaced by a bitter, smoky scent. Myrhia wriggled her small nose to the smell.

“I think they burned up our food.” she said almost in a whisper, following it with a giggle. Letho smiled, but it was a rather bland looking smile. Because the smoke in the air didn’t seem to be coming from the kitchen.

“I don’t think that’s our food burning, Myri.”

[Iriah Caitrak]

It had been a while since her feet has tread in Irrakam. She didn’t get to travel here often, not only was it far from home and a little on the dangerous side, but if she wasn’t away from Fallien exploring Althanas she was doing missions and couldn’t travel here. She loved this place though, she loved the sights and smells, she loved the people milling about doing their daily business, some none too pleased about it. Not everyone enjoyed haggling with the vendors.

The only thing she wished she could change was some of the looks she got.

As a native of Fallien she had the same complexion as everyone else, but she was taller than most of Fallien’s male population but at least an inch or two. Her hair and eyes were odd and unnatural colours—even for the rest of Althanas as she’d learned—and she had white markings on her bare shoulders. People who didn’t know who or what she was looked at her oddly, those who did know whatever small bits and pieces of the Calerian rumours said prayers as she walked by. It was always like this in Irrakam, or any other place in Fallien where people considered Calerian’s cursed. Sometimes she just wished they’d forget all about Calerian’s and act as if she was just another average person. Just a face never to be remembered in the throngs of people that walked through these streets and browsed these booths everyday.

It wasn’t like that though and would never be like that. In reality she couldn’t do anything about it so Ira just tried to enjoy her time here as best she could. She’d come for cloth and lots of it. Though they did make most of their own clothes, materials were hard to come by in the middle of the desert and sometimes someone would have to go to Irrakam and get some. And that someone just happened to be her right now, and a few other female Calerian’s who had buggered off to do the girl thing and leave her to buy materials. It wasn’t a bad thing, but considering all that had happened in the past few weeks, the mission with Chidori and Rain and the havoc that had occurred during the festival of the dead, she’s just prefer it if they’d chosen someone else.

She still hadn’t sorted out what had exactly happened to her during the festival and the implications of it. Most of it she was still trying to come to terms with. It all felt like a giant dream that had never happened and sometimes late at night, she found herself staring at the ceiling thinking exactly that. As much as she’d like to believe it though, she knew the truth, she knew it really happened and she knew the consequences of it were going to slap her in the face some day.

Now was not that day though. Now was a day where she could sit back and hopefully relax a little. Haggle with some grumpy old man over his wears and the thread count in his material. Perhaps pick up some new things for herself. She loved looking over the weapons dealers, for though she didn’t need any of them, putting to memory new weapons to use and practice with was always fun.

Walking over to one of the booths, Ira eyed some very beautiful fabric dyed in vibrant colours of deep reds, purples, blues and some oranges. There were a few greens but she found them ugly, nothing like the vibrant colours of Concordia, a forest she greatly missed, though she definitely did not miss the man—if that was what he could be called—who she’d found within it. If only she could find deep greens like that here, she’d love to get some new colour into her house. But for now, the purple and reds would do just fine. And of course she had to pick up some materials for clothing as well.

Picking up the material and running it through her fingers, Ira looked at the seller, “What’s the thread count on this?” It was the purple fabric.

“Two hundred, it’s a very nice colour, isn’t it?”

Ira nodded her head. It didn’t feel like it was a two hundred thread count though, it felt less.

“What about the red?”

“Two hundred as well.”

She felt that one between her fingers and knew that it wasn’t either. Still, she loved the colours and the thread count felt like one hundred and fifty, which really wasn’t that bad. It all depended on the price.

“How much for a roll?” A roll of material was usually about seven meters long.

“Two hundred for one roll of each.”

“Two hundred? That’s a little much. After all, this isn’t even a two hundred thread count, it’s more like one hundred and fifty.”

The seller gave her an aggravated looked, “It’s two hundred for a roll.” He said it firmer, as if that was going to change her mind and make her give in.

She just shook her head, “One twenty-five a roll.”

He shook his head, “One seventy-five.”

“No, way. The dye job is nice, but that’s too much for the lower thread count it is. One fifty or I’ll go somewhere else.”

“Fine, one fifty per roll.”

“Excellent. Now, I also need three rolls of light material tan for clothes, two rolls of black, two rolls of white, one red and one yellow.”

The seller began writing some of this down and tallying it up as she listed things off. The materials for clothing were going to be cheaper; the things for housing were more expensive because they were thicker. Designed to keep the sand out and stand up against tough desert storms. Having your house fall down around you was never a pleasant experience.

“Okay, your total is six hundred and fifty-seven, but because you’re ordering so much I’ll take it down to six hundred even. It will take me two days to get the order ready for you.”

Ira smiled; with her job done she could relax for those two days, “No problem. I’ll come by in two days to pick it up.”

She’d also pay for it then. These merchants could be a shady bunch and if you paid for anything up front they were liable to walk away with your money without giving you anything. Just as she was about to go find her friends the smell of smoke on the air drew Ira’s attention. Turning around, Ira was graced with a rather unfamiliar sight of smoke billowing towards a clear, cloudless day. Down the street she could see some small buildings of fire, the flame leaping into the air and coming dangerously close to some of the larger buildings. If someone didn’t act soon this could turn into a huge disaster.

Seeing one of the local restaurants near by and filled with patrons who probably didn’t even know what was going on, Ira raced over to it, “The buildings down the street are on fire, we need help putting out the flames now or it’s going to spread!”

After giving her message, Ira herself raced down the crowded street, through people who were too dumbstruck to do anything, calling for them to follow her and help with the fire.

[Letho]

He obviously wasn’t the only one who acknowledged that there was something amiss in the proximity. A local woman ran up to the restaurant with dismay clearly painted on her facial features, shouting something in what must’ve been Fallien speak because Letho didn’t understand a single word of it. Not that he needed further clarification. It was quite clear that what he had sensed seconds ago she witnessed and was trying to rally or warn as many of the people nearby. Before the Corone Marshal ever got a chance for any kind of communication with the girl – at least asking her where exactly was the fire sighted – the Fallien woman ran back out in the streets, summoning even more people in the same peculiar tongue.

“What’s going on, Letho? What did she say?” Myrhia asked, getting up to her feet and casting a peek at the street. The smoke was now prominent, but it was almost impossible to discern the exact origins of it. “Is it the Coalition?”

“No, I don’t think so. I think somebody was just careless enough to set a house on fire.” he replied. He got up from his seat, stepped from beneath the parasol that overlooked the neatly arranged tables and entered the street that seemed more and more in disarray with each second. “In this heat, it’s bound to spread fast. Come on, let’s see if we can help.”

Neither of them liked fire. Vampirism had its advantages, but on the flip side of the coin, the damage from the flame tongues was devastating to the pair. So needless to say, they generally avoided situations where they would find themselves against a blazing inferno. However, they both knew that their personal security and comfort wasn’t imperative in this situation, even if Fallien wasn’t their realm. So even though they were mere strangers in a peculiar land that didn’t really want them around, the pair scurried through the streets fleetly, in the direction of the woman that seemed to take control of the situation, calling as many people as possible to her side.

They caught up with her in the narrow side alley that was an offshoot of the main street. The first pair of buildings – a rather fancy glass shop and what seemed like a general store that dealt with herbs - were made of brick and seemed impervious to any kind of hazard. But deeper in the alley, the solidity and structural integrity gave way to smaller, more modest houses that in turn turned into unsightly wooden shacks. These huts burned like gunpowder. The wood was as dry as the desert itself and the shabby roofs made out of palm leaves disappeared under the devouring flames as if they were made out of paper. A pair of elderly citizens stood in front of this scene, crying into their hands, unable to salvage anything from their homes that were turning into ash and smoke in front of their very eyes. To the side of them, the owners of the nearby houses were already at work, casting bucket after bucket of water at their own houses, trying to insulate it from the oncoming flames. It was a good strategy, but at this vehemence, the fire would eat through their homes almost effortlessly.

“We’re here to help.” Letho said, his breath rather hasty as he stood next to the violet-haired woman. She managed to mobilize quite a flock, but they were like headless flies, each one doing what they thought was best and none of them really on a good course to remedy the dire situation. The Marshal decided to take the reins of the downhill-heading wagon.

“We need to form a chain. Made out of people.” he said to the woman, uncertain whether or not she could understand him. “They need to stretch from that well back on the main road to here. And we need buckets, a lot of them. Or anything that can hold water.”

He did his best to gesture with his hands just in case she didn’t understand Tradespeak, hoping that she would be able to relay the idea to the locals that stood scattered around them. “We need two lines, one for each side of the street. If we don’t stop this soon, the entire block will be in flames in less then an hour.”

The heat was slowly becoming unbearable, pinching at the bare skin of his forearms and eliciting a sheen of sweat on his face. At least there was no wind, Letho thought. If there were some, however mild, it would fuel the fire better then anything else ever could. Behind him, Myrhia tried to shield herself from the emanated heat by his large bulk, her pale skin suffering in such harsh conditions. She could tolerate heat better then Letho, but these extreme conditions seemed to sap the majority of strength from her. She would do her part, the Marshal knew, but for the time being she was just glad that he took over the command, harshly and strictly, the way he always did.

[Iriah Caitrak]

Having control so easily taken away from her was not something Ira was used to. She was a natural born leader and those instincts automatically kicked in, in a situation like this one. She knew what to do and how to do it and she didn’t need any help getting there. However, this stranger who couldn’t even speak the native language here decided it was best that he be put in a leadership position when perhaps her and handful of others here right now could understand him.

She didn’t like it, but she had to admit, he was on the same track that she was. Having dealt with fast spreading fires before she was going to suggest the same thing he had. Still, that didn’t mean she liked it. He was a foreigner trying to lead people that could barely understand him; he might as well have been speaking in gibberish to those in the crowd. They were looking to her more than they were to him; after all, she was the one who had called them down here.

“Adrendakra! Sirk es alaskra, adrendakra!”

Ira quickly rallied the townspeople into motion. The crowd scattered as people ran wherever they could to get the buckets required to dowse the flames.

“Urukra, alash ikirielle asra!”

It took seconds that seemed like hours to Ira, but she was able to rally everyone into two lines between here and the well. Even with her calls some of the townspeople would do nothing but stand around to stare at the fire. It was as if they needed to lead by the hand, like they just couldn’t act properly in a panic situation. Squash the panic and do whatever was necessary.

The lines were slow moving at first, but after a few goes everyone started picking up a rhythm to it and the lines moved along quickly, leaving Ira and the two strangers at the front.

The female didn’t seem very fond of the flames where as the male, whoever they were, just jumped into the fray of things naturally. He probably had the same instincts she did, jump into a situation and just take control of it. Unlike the redheaded females, Ira was used to the heat, the pinching of skin, the sheen of sweat that was beginning to break out. She dealt with it all the time and had no problem getting in close to the flaming buildings to throw the water upon the structures in a desperate attempt to dowse the flames. A few times the flames even jumped dangerous close to her, licking at her skin, but she paid them no attention.

It reminded her of the Gwalior, when her the child Damon Kaosi had been trapped in a ship while it burnt down. But this was nothing like that situation and could not be remedied so easily.

Bucket after bucket came down the lines. Soon the muscles in her arms and shoulder began to ache from the weight of the water and the strength required to heft the bucket.

“Ira!”

Turning, Ira saw the familiar faces of Uriahd and Messia. No explanation was needed for them to know exactly what was going on and what needed to be done. They too quickly started grabbing buckets as they came from the line and threw the contents onto the flaming buildings. With their help and added strength the water was winning in its fight to smother the flames.

Seeing this, the townspeople gave out a quick cry of triumph and though tired they may have been, continue to pass buckets down and along the lines. Another twenty minutes later and the flames were all destroyed, the buildings left to smoulder. The blackened cinders still steaming from the heat within them and further in there were still light glows from the embers that had yet to be dowsed, but Ira was unsure if she could lift another bucket. Her arms felt like they could fall off at any moment.

Breathing in a sigh of relief that they had actually accomplished putting out the flames, Ira wiped the sweat from her brow, smudging ashes into her skin and leaving streaks of black. She didn’t really care right now, she was sweaty and covered in ash everywhere and she really just wanted a hotel room and a very cold shower then one damn fluffy mattress and twelve hours of sleep.

*“Mirk dens ak si, siahd?”

Ira looked up and at Uriahd and followed her line of sight over to the stranger who had helped her.

*“Kratos asi, Uri, mi hirken siahd da urkun.” Ira said back to her.

Moving away from Uriahd and Messia, Ira made her way over to the two of them. As much as she hadn’t liked the control being taken away from her like he had, he had helped and deserved thanks because of that.

“Thank you, siahd, for helping. My name is Ira, that’s Uriahd and Messia over there. Without your help the outcome may have been different.”

Without their help the out come would have been the same, but Ira was not going to say something like that.

(*“Who’s the cute stranger?”)
(*“Back off, Uri, I think the stranger’s married.”)

[Letho]

The local bird – who later identified herself as Ira – seemed rather irked by his propositions, or rather the authority with which he dictated it to her. She didn’t display her dissatisfaction openly, but her defiant face was message enough to Letho that she wasn’t too happy with the fact that he took charge of the situation. He wasn’t surprised by this nor did he let this to disrupt his efforts. During his first visit to Fallien, he learned that the women here were proud and dominating – a fact that Myrhia adored – and Ira was no different. Luckily, it seemed that both of them yielded a little bit on account of that there was a fire that didn’t care about petty differences, so he restrained himself from reiterating his orders and she translated his commands to the crowd. It took them a while, but soon enough there were two rather straight lines formed, just like he intended.

He instructed Myrhia to keep taking the empty vessels back to the well. She hesitated for a couple of seconds, telling him that she could do her part if he needed her, but they both knew that this was the best role for her. Not only was the heat already causing her pale skin to redden unhealthily, but she was also the fleetest of the bunch by far. Light-footed and willowy, the lass dashed to and fro ceaselessly, the tin buckets jangling at her side.

Letho and Ira were at the forefront, in a direct conflict with the fire, and the bulky human had to admit that seeing her fight the flames vehemently instilled new respect for women. She was downright fearless, getting even closer then him to the enflamed houses and showering them with the crystal water. Luckily, the Marshal didn’t have to get that close. His inhuman strength enabled him to fling the contents of the vessels from greater distance and almost twice as fast as everybody in the proximity. But there was no competition here. They were all focused on one goal; to douse the fires and prevent them from spreading further. The buckets passed hands, the fires crackled and the water hissed as it hit them, and the ordeal went on for almost half an hour. And then finally, when even Letho felt fatigue in his muscles, the flame tongues started to lose their vehemence and were soon turned into nothing but tendrils of gray smoke.

The people cheered, their faces filthy gray, some of them collapsing to the ground with smiles on their faces. The smoke was so thick around them now that Letho couldn’t see Myrhia on the other end of the street, sitting on the well ledge and taking a breather herself. Nobody minded the bitter mist that stood around them, their lungs developing somewhat of a resistance to it during the exertion. There was nothing left of the wooden shacks but a charcoaled outline and a pair of brick chimneys, but given the circumstances, the damage to Irrakam was minimal.

At his side, the bossy Fallien woman was joined by a pair of others who seemed genuinely interested in the Marshal. They spoke in the native tongue – that sounded mighty queer to Letho with its plentiful usage of letter “k” – and ultimately it was Ira that approached him. Her thanks were noted with a courteous bow of his head, a remnant of his royal upbringing that seemed so out of place in the place that looked like a genuine war zone. “Ladies.” he greeted the two in the background before diverting his eyes to Ira.

“Make nothing of it.” he spoke, his tone a bit raspier that he intended it to be due to the inhaled smoke. He cleared his throat with a grumbling cough before he continued. “I’m Letho Ravenheart and that over there...” he pointed towards the redhead that was a bit vague through all the smoke. She seemed content with sitting on the well for the time being, but when she noticed him, she gave the group a half-gleeful, half-tired wave. “...is Myrhia. We’re strangers, as you might’ve guessed, mere visitors from Corone.”

Their breather was cut short almost as soon as he finished his introduction. A man – just as ash-faced and sweaty as the rest of them – came running down the main street, then paused when he saw the gathered crowd and shouted some words that Letho didn’t understand. The general mirth of the mass seemed to change rapidly, grim frowns back on with a vengeance. Myrhia clarified the reason for him, shouting from her distant spot beside the well.

“Letho! There are more fires! At least five or..”

KA-BOOM!!!

A detonation cut the redhead short. So powerful and deafening it was that it felt to Letho as if a cannon fired right next to his ear. And even as it finished, another resounded through the streets. The two explosions collapsed a pair stone buildings behind their backs, effectively turning the street into a blind alley. The Marshal turned to the crushed buildings that were nothing but a fiery rubble in less then a second, his ears buzzing to the point that he felt they were bleeding. And then another two explosions, this time on the closer end of the street, pulverizing the spices shop and the glass store that stood on the opposite corners. The pair of tall buildings fell inwards and caught fire – a peculiarity given the fact that they were made out of bricks - but Letho was in no state to make rational judgments in the turmoil.

The face of the Marshal, that was seconds ago red from the exposure to fire, turned pale. Not because of the devastating fireworks, not because he was trapped from both sides by a wall of fire that would only advance forward, not even because he couldn’t hear a thing at the moment. No, it was because a fraction of a second after the second two explosions, when the pair of buildings still slowly crumbling onto the streets, he saw Myrhia falling into the well, knocked off the ledge by the power of the detonation.

“Myrhia...”

[Iriah Caitrak]

(Seems like a good plan to me.)

Ira covered her ears as the explosions rang out through the alleyway and all of Irrakam. She’d never heard anything like it before and had a suspicion she may never hear anything again. Her ears were ringing inside of her head and she could hear the explosion long after it had dissipated. Turning around, Ira saw what used to be a long street behind her now cut off in fiery rubble. Her heart dropped in her chest and she hoped to the Gods of Fallien that no one had been in those buildings or around them when they collapsed. The last thing she needed to deal with as a Calerian was lost souls.

Another explosion went off and Ira turned in its direction, watching the buildings crumbled down to the dirt street below them, their stone structures flaming from within. She’d never seen anything like it before, why were the buildings exploding and why were they catching on fire? They were made out of stone; there was nothing for the flames to feed on and nothing within them that would cause such a thing.

The people in the alley were just as dumbstruck as she was, watching the buildings before them burn and Ira realized that they had to get the Hell out of here. The buildings could collapse further inward, debris could fall on them or another explosion could occur at any moment. Grabbing Uri and Messia, Ira started yelling orders at them to move the people out of the alleyway and towards the safety of the open streets of Irrakam. She had to scream it for them to even hear her their ears just as bad at hers.

As they raced off to the gather the people, Ira turned her attention to someone else.

“Letho, Letho!!!”

When he didn’t respond to her, Ira raced over to him and grabbed his arm, tugging at him to follow them.

“We have to get out of here!”

In the confusion of the moment, Ira forgot about Myriah, the woman she’d never met and had only briefly seen. In the back of her mind she probably thought Uri or Messia would be able to get her or perhaps her thoughts weren’t completely in order. She was taking care of the people she could see and she couldn’t see Myriah.

Uri ran up and joined her with the last group of people and Ira began leading them towards the only way not blocked by burning rubble. Messia was ahead of her, leading another group of people out from alleyway, but suddenly two more explosions rocked the ground and Ira watched in horror as rubble and fire began to crumble down from the buildings blocking the only way out. People began running for their lives to get away from it and the last she saw of Messia was her helping someone up before the rumble blocked her view.

“Messia!”

Her name was screamed at the top of her lungs and Ira knew even if she’d made it to the other side she’d never be able to hear her. Looking at the burning stones blocking their way, tears began to form in Ira’s eyes as she thought about whether or not Messia had made it to the other side or been crushed by the falling buildings.

“Ira, we don’t have time to worry about her.”

“I know…I know, I just can’t help but wonder if…” Her voice trailed off.

“She’ll be fine, Messia’s as tough as they come and you know it!”

That was true; Messia was one of the tough ones. Giving Uri an encouraging though forced smile, Ira took a deep breath and tried to get a hold of the situation again. She yelled to the small group of people they hadn’t been able to get out of the alleyway to stay calm and that they’d figure a way out of this. She didn’t really have any kind of plan besides trying to climb over burning rubble, which did not sound very appealing, but she’d think of something she had to. Purgatory was out of the question, it would be no safer than this place if there were Fallen in it, in fact less so actually and Uri and her could not protect such a large crowd.

Leading them away from the burning structures, Ira tried to think of some way to get everyone out of this situation alive and in one piece.

[Letho]

“The Coalition! The bloody Coalition! This was their work!” the rational part of Letho’s mind hollered, but the only thing that he registered was the dreadful sight of Myrhia falling into a well. He could see her hands reaching towards him – a detail that his usurped mind added – and scream his name as she fell into the cold abyss. The buzzing in his ears slowly receded and the sounds of panicky mass were plentiful, but all that the Marshal heard or cared about was the lissome redhead that could be dying on the bottom of a well.

Ira tore him from his daydream – or rather his daynightmare. The purple-haired Fallien woman grabbed him by his elbow, trying to usher him away from the flames beyond which Myrhia was most likely dying. Her words seemed distant to him at first, as if they were shouted from a great distance, but soon enough he acknowledged their meaning. Yes, they had to get out of here. Out of here and on the other side as quick as possible. More out of necessity and pure reason, Letho followed the confident female, thinking she was familiar enough with the maze-like alleyways of Irrakam. The crowd around him was on the verge of becoming a stampede, pushing and showing and trying to get out of the inferno that just decided to devour them. Thanks to his ample physique, the Marshal was able to make his way to the front of this demented herd, alongside Ira and behind one of her friends.

And then another pair of buildings exploded, nearly knocking him off his feet with its vehemence and closing off yet another way out. The mass tried to stop their advance, some trampling over the others in an attempt to come to a full stop, before they started to make their way in the opposite direction. Ira and her lady friend were deliberating on something, and then they too followed the crowd, the sure-footed woman once again assuming command over the headless beast that was the grouped people.

“This is getting nowhere.” Letho muttered, now pushing his way through the frantic batch of Fallien locals with almost no courtesy whatsoever, elbowing the young and the old alike. His mind’s eye didn’t see the smoke-filled, heat-packed trap that the explosions sprung around them. His mind’s eye kept looking at the flashing warning sign and Myrhia’s face behind it. Minutes were passing in this scampering from one miss to the next, with the folk moving around like brainless animals that were agitated and followed their pack. Perhaps he could take them out, take them through some of the standing buildings and crush come walls to paw the road for them. But that would take minutes. Minutes that Myrhia didn’t have.

In the end, standing at an intersection with fire coming at him from all sides, Letho had to weigh and measure the worth of Myrhia’s life and compare it to that of the many. He looked around, noticed Ira trying to get the chaos into order, noticed the terror on the ash-covered faces, noticed the collection of faces that were either to be saved or sacrificed. And then his mind offered Myrhia’s face again. And there was no doubt in his mind. As harsh and callous as it seemed – and it was harsh and callous – they were expendable, they were just faces in a collection that he kept in the dark part of his mind. Myrhia, however, was not.

“I have no time for this.” he muttered, detaching himself from the crowd and approaching the impassable wall of fire that emanated enough heat to almost scorch his hair. A bit to the side, discarded after their initial nugatory victory over the fire, was one of the blankets that were used to douse the smaller flames. The Marshal picked it up, then tracked down one of the buckets that was still half-filled with water. It would have to suffice. He stretched the blanket, poured water over it, hoping that he created at least a feeble insulation for himself. Some of the Fallien folk approached him, desperate for some kind of a plan from Letho, asking something in their incomprehensible language, but they seemed unable to get the message through the focused warrior.

“I’m sorry.” was all they got in return. Some people called him a hero back in Corone, but the Marshal was no such thing and he was well aware of it. He didn’t have a spotless career, didn’t play it by the book and didn’t always do what seemed like the right thing in the public’s eye. There was a pyramid of values within him, its contents drifting in between the Old Code and the new set of rules the hardship of his life outlined. And on top of that pyramid was the redhead that was probably drowning on the other side of the bedlam.

He threw the blanket over his shoulders, then pulled it up over his head, and with the pitiful faces of the Fallien folk etching themselves into his head in order to haunt him forever, he dashed towards the fire. He sprinted alongside the wall of one of the buildings, using the sill of one of the windows as a leverage to amplify the leap that led him straight through hell. He could handle the ghosts of those people haunting him. Unlike Myrhia’s.

The only thing he remembered from his flight through the flames was the sickening ache all over his body that felt like thousands of hot fingers pinching him and leaving a burn mark. The scent in his nose was that of gunpowder and petroleum, a perfect explanation why the stone building seemed to burn as if they were dropped straight to the pits of the underworld. He crash-landed on the cobbles on the other side, nearly crushing a rather elderly gentleman that did his best to extinguish the flames with a rather battered bucket. Letho rolled from the momentum, throwing away the blanket and quenching the fire that caught a lock of his short hair once he came to a full stop. Most of his exposed skin seemed to be on fire, but after a couple of seconds he recognized as a mere shock from the burns against his vampiric skin.

“The others? Where are the others?” a voice from the gathered batch of tanned people spoke, but the Marshal refused to comment. He struggled back to his feet and pushed through those that tried to help him up in order to get to the well.

“The girl.” he spoke, then coughed dryly as he leant over the ledge. “There was a girl sitting here before the explosion. The shock wave pushed her in.”

Most of the faces looked at him with that blank expression that made it quite clear they didn’t understand a word he spoke. Those that could decipher Tradespeak shrugged their shoulders. “Damn you!” he shouted, and then added into the echoing depths of the well: “Myri! Myri, I’m coming!”

And without another word spoken or another thought conjured, Letho jumped into the well.

[Iriah Caitrak]

Ira was so caught up in keeping the people calm and trying to formulate a way out of there at the same time that she didn’t even notice when Letho ran off towards the mountain of rubble. Uri did though and she watched in horror as the man covered himself in a wet blanket and tried to get over the top. Thinking he was going to get himself killed in the process, Uri left Ira’s side and raced over as fast as she could, calling his name and trying to get his attention. It wasn’t working though. Cursing her luck and the stupid ways of foreigners, Uri tried to make her way up the side of the rubble after him. She couldn’t see him getting out this way, she could only see him catching himself on fire and needing someone’s help.

In the end, it was a stupid decision on both of their parts, him for doing it and her for chasing after him. Not even halfway up the rubble gave way under the weight of a wrong step. The side of what was once a building collapsed and took Uri down with it into the fiery depths. The rest of the walls coming down seconds after her fall, crushing and killing her before the flames and the smoke ever got the chance to do their job.

“Uri what about…Uri?”

Confused as to where Uri could have run off at a time like this, Ira turned to watch her lifetime friend follow after Letho and then disappear into the flames. Not even needing the confirmation from her senses of her friend’s soul being released. There was no way she could have survived it no matter how much her soul screamed for it to be so on the inside.

A hand covered an open mouth that refused to scream and eyes that should have been flooding with tears watched in a blank expression as the building collapsed further in upon itself.

“Uri…”


---------------------------

A half an hour later, feeling numb and not even able to acknowledge the pain inside of her, Ira waded through the filth and waters of the sewers of Irrakam. There was no ledge for them to walk on, no slightly elevated area for them to keep away from the sludge. Just the tunnel, knee deep filled with things she would rather not think about, but thought about instead of thinking of Uri. The smell couldn’t even get to her in this place; though it tried to choke the very air from her lungs she ignored it.

Those behind her were not faring so well though. She’d managed to find the small sewer drain minutes after she’d seen Uri fall into the flames. Knowing it would be hard and filthy; the Calerian warrior had known that the sewers were their only way out of it, no matter how disgusting they were. The hard part had been getting everyone down into the small space and then from there moving around. There were so sconces, no flames to light their way and only occasionally was the darkness broken by a small sewer grate letting in the light.

The worst part was Ira had no idea where she was taking these people and how far she had to travel. She could guess and guess she did. Judging from where they’d entered and what direction they’d come in she knew they didn’t have much farther to go. Two more sewer grates and they should be able to move up to the surface without having to worry about burning buildings. Twice now she’d passed by small openings above her where the sun was not lighting her way but the embers of a still burning fire.

Behind her the people gagged on the retched air that filled this place. She could even hear some of them stopping to throw up.

“We’re almost there, just a few more minutes.”

And a few more minutes it was. Finally, Ira came to a grate in the side of the tunnel that seemed like a good distance from the buildings and the mess that had become the alleyway. She wouldn’t know for sure, not until she lifted it up and actually poked her head outside, but she was pretty certain she could hear the sounds of people above her.

Grabbing the ladder, Ira hoisted herself up and climbed to the top, feeling the watchful eyes of those behind her the whole way. Using her arm and her shoulder, Ira pushed against the heavy grate, managing to somehow lift it on her own and shove it off to the side. Someone noticed her and began yelling to others and soon there were helpful hands helping her out of the sewers openings. Once the crowd realized what was going on more people came to help and within minutes they had everyone out of the filthy sewers and those reunited with their friends and family hugged and cried not even caring about the filth that covered them.

“Ira, Ira!!”

Turning, the Calerian saw Messia running towards her, a smile on the woman’s face. Relief broke out in Ira as she saw her alive having feared the worst when the explosions had cut the two of them off.

“Messia!”

The two embraced in a long hug.

“God, you smell like…I don’t even want to name it.”

Ira laughed and looked down at her pants and boots. They were completely ruined and no amount of washing was going to help them.

“Where’s Uriahd?”

The mirth left her eyes and the smiled died horribly into a grimace on her face. No explanation was needed.

“By Purgatory…Ira…” The two embraced again in a hug they both wished could take the pain away from one another at the loss of such a friend. Ira could feel the cold tears of her friend bite into her shoulder but she still couldn’t find the tears within herself.

[Letho]

Only when he leapt over the ledge and his freefall commenced, a thought flashed through Letho’s head that the chances were he would land on Myrhia and cause more harm then good. But when the chips were down and it was time to act, his precipitancy always overruled that tiny voice of reason in the back of his head that ineffectively pulled on the reins and screamed: “Whoa, boy!”. Sometimes rushing headlong into something saved lives. Sometimes it only contributed to the direness of the situation. The Marshal had to make sure that the latter doesn’t happen today.

Instinctively his hand reached for something that would slow his descent and found the chain on which the large bucket hanged. Inhumanly strong fingers clutched to the cold metal, making the winch above go from dormant to spinning at blistering speed in an instant. The chain unwound to the fullest, jerked Letho’s bulky body and sent it crashing against the wall. Luckily for the Marshal, both the chain and the windlass were sturdy enough to support his weight. He continued his descent like a spelunker, hands holding to the chain and feet backpedaling down the smooth, mossy tiles. There was little light this deep in the water hole, just enough for him to notice the reflection of the smoky skies in the shimmer of the water below. And compared to the situation above, it was eerily cold.

“Myri! Myri, talk to me!” he kept repeating, but even when the next step took his feet below the surface of the water, there was only the faint echo that returned his call. Without a moment of deliberation, Letho let go of the chain and dipped his body into the cool water. There wasn’t enough room to swim on the bottom of the well, but he swept the surface thrice, pushing himself from one side of the circular pool to the other, and on his third sweep, when his heart was ready to cease beating and his mind entered the panicky stage, his fingers made contact with a lifeless shoulder.

“Myrhianna?!” he cried, calling her by her full name like he usually did when the situation was critical. But she didn’t answer and when he pulled her closer, her scrawny body was as cold as an ice shard. More importantly, once Letho’s hand pressed against her neck and his fingers desperately sought the pulse, there was none to be found. His mind’s voice now screamed “ALERT! DEATH IMMINENT!” from the top of its imaginary lungs, but the Marshal knew that it wasn’t over yet. He could still help her, he had the skill, he just couldn’t do it while floating on the bottom of the well.

“Myri, baby, hold on. Don’t you dare die on me!” he muttered, placing her body over his shoulder and tracking down the chain. With his eyes on the small circle of gray clouds that seemed miles above him, his hands worked vehemently, clasping on the chain one over the other and lifting the pair at remarkable speed. A couple of unfamiliar faces above noticed Letho climbing back up and joined hands on the winch, speeding up the ascension. In less then thirty seconds the Corone Marshal once again breathed in the bitter smoky air that burned his lungs as he remerged from the well. Those not involved in his extraction cheered, those that did, jumped into help him and Myrhia over the ledge and on the hot cobblestones of the street. Somebody said something then ran away, probably to fetch the local healer, but Letho didn’t even hear them. Regardless of how his body begged him to take a breather, he pushed himself up and knelt over the redhead’s body. Her already pale skin was sickeningly white, her usually perky, rosy lips unhealthily purple.

Never has their kiss been so cold, so frigid as the one Letho gave her once he opened her mouth. He exhaled into her, feeling her lugs expand, her poorly-endowed chest rising. His hand pressed against her thorax, massaging it, trying to force the water out of her lungs. The method wasn’t widely accepted amidst the healers – most clerics opted for a more magical approach to resurrection – but he picked it up on one of his many travels, hoping to whatever gods watched over them that it worked. He repeated the process several times, each time more desperate then the last, each time fearing that those perfect lips of hers would never be warm again.

“Breathe, Myri. Breathe...” he spoke, and as if she heard him, the redhead’s throat convulsed and she started coughing out the water. He leant her on her side, her tiny hands clutching to his damp clothes, and once she started to breathe more normally, he embraced her gently. “There you go. You gave me quite a scare, Myri.” he cooed into her ear, feeling her every breath now. Somebody threw a pair of blankets over them, but Letho barely noticed it.

“What... what happened, Letho?” she managed to utter, her voice weak and raspy. “The explosion... I hit my head... It was so cold. I though I was...”

“Shh...” he shushed her, his hand now caressing her sopped hair threads as she shivered in his arms. “All is well now.”

And it definitely seemed so. Myrhia was alive, he wasn’t scorched in his bullheaded charge through the fire and from one of the manholes, Ira emerged with the formerly trapped people following in her wake. The fires weren’t under control yet, not the one in front of him and not half-a-dozen others that burned across the Fallien capitol, but they soon would be. And then maybe there would be a sky above their heads again instead of a thick mist of smoke.

[Iriah Caitrak]

Ira’s line of sight eventually came to stop on the figure of Letho and Myrhia. He was holding her as if she were his beating heart, the very thing that kept him alive. Was she the reason he’d gone so foolishly through the flames? She didn’t know and frankly she wasn’t sure if she cared. His loved one was still alive, but hers was dead now, something so surprisingly hard for her to comprehend considering the fact that she dealt with the dead on a daily basis. She could walk over to him and rant and rave like the best of them, screaming about what his choices had cost her and about how many other lives it could have cost. But what good would it do? He’d made his choice, he’d left them all there to die, not truly caring about their fates and because of his actions someone had died. But because of her actions everyone else had lived.

Yes, she could fault him and she could hate him for doing something so foolish. Hate was not something she needed within her heart and what would he care about her plight anyway? He probably couldn’t even remember Uri’s face and he’d never even known her name, her accomplishments, her life’s journey and struggles.

But she would, and Ira did not plan on forgetting it anytime soon.

Letting go of her friend, Ira carefully stepped out of the embrace. She didn’t want to be touched right now she just wanted to put out these damn fires, collect the body of her friend, finish up what they’d come here for and then go back to her tribe.

“C’mon…let’s help put out these fires. It’s better than standing around crying, right?”

Messia gave her a rather forced smile and wiped the tears from her face. Perhaps Ira was just too hardened from seeing too much death to really cry about it; perhaps it wasn’t going to hit her until later on at the funeral. She didn’t know, all she did know was that she’d lost someone special today and she’d never again be able to hear her laugh or see her smile. She’d never again hear her words of encouragement or see her laughing eyes.

Pushing aside those thoughts, Ira quickly began giving orders to the Fallien around her, rallying them to help put out the fires. Right now it was an unorganized mess of people desperately trying to do some good by themselves, when Ira knew it was the collective that would only have an effect here. Smoke was billowing out from piles of crushed stone that not an hour ago had been people’s homes and people shops. The heat was beginning to become unbearable, even for her. She just wanted away from it, she wanted to cool down and wash away the ash and the sweat.

“Messia, you stay here and keep everyone moving. I’ll go around to the other side and rally those people up if they haven’t already done so.”

She squeezed her friend’s shoulder reassuringly before she jogged off. Both ends of the alleyway had been turned into fiery rubble, if Messia could handle that end then Ira could get things moving on the other end. Within the hour, if they were lucky, the fires would be put out. It would be much easier if they had a shaman who could control water, but Ira did not hold the hope of coming across one.

It took her five minutes to weave through the people, the stalls and the buildings to get to the other side. Over here things were no better. People were rushing around grabbing water from a nearby well and tossing it onto the flames in an unorganized attempt to quench the beast within. It wasn’t working. They needed to work as a team, they needed to get things in order and they needed to attack the same area instead of working on multiple different spots. That would do them no good.

Quickly, Ira kicked into gear. The strongest she kept at the front by the blaze to throw the water onto the stones and the flames. The others she used to form a line and pass the buckets down, the faster ones refilling the metal tins as fast as they could. Bucket after bucket was thrown onto the stones, which sizzled with the contact, some of the water evaporating long before it ever touched flame. Already tired muscles were protesting, but Ira didn’t feel the pain. She chose to ignore it and continue to put her all strength into dousing the fires as fast as she could and the people working alongside her seemed to be under the same philosophy.

[Letho]

Ira once again grabbed a hold of the reins and got the dismayed mass under control, but Letho didn’t care about the fires anymore. His benevolence and worrying about the wellbeing of others had its limits and they were reached the moment this little rescue effort turned into a struggle not for his own life, but for that of the lithe redhead that shivered in his arms. Right now, Irrakam could burn and fall apart around his ears and he would merely amble away from the charcoaled ruins once the fire did its wretched deed. It once again proved what Myrhia knew well by now; Letho was like a coin when it came to emotions. On one side was the amicable, gentle knight that rescued her from slavery, and on the other was a wanderer that was callous to the bone. And while she tried to erase the coldhearted one and replace it as much as possible with the tender one, most of the people still got the cold shoulder.

Myrhia, however, was an altogether different breed. Mellow and kind to the very core, even now when she felt like somebody beat her up with a club, her thoughts fled to the fires that still crackled and the smoke that still ascended towards the already gray skies. “Are the... fires out?” she asked in a whisper, still struggling to equalize her hasty breathing.

“Don’t you worry about that.” he tried to shush her, rubbing his hand over her back in an attempt to warm her a bit more. But as if nature itself wanted to defy him in this effort, a whiff of wind swept over their embraced bodies. Warm and seemingly harmless, the breeze had a rather discomforting effect on the sopped couple and a devastating one on the fires that were instantly provoked to amplify their vehemence. Once again, Letho decided to brush away this little detail. And once again, Myrhia decided not to.

“The wind, Letho.” she muttered, looking up at his face. “It will fuel... the fires even more. You... You have to go and help put them out.”

No, he didn’t. Or at least that was what he thought until he looked down towards the pleading pair of eyes that simply begged him to do something she would be keen on doing if she was capable. “I’ll be ok. I just need some rest. You should go.” and then after he tarried for another couple of seconds. “GO, YOU BIG OAF!”

It was all the incentive he needed. He kissed her on the forehead, then took the blanket off of his shoulders and tucked it around her tightly before he made his way to one of two fire sites in the proximity. The woman that tried to keep things organized was familiar to the Marshal, but he couldn’t tell which of the two names belonged to her; Uriahd or Messia. He decided to leave the names out of it as he approached her and grasped her by the shoulder.

“The wind is picking up.” he started, not taking under consideration that there is a chance that she didn’t understand him. However, she didn’t put on one of those blank, confused faces, so he continued: “We won’t be able to extinguish the fires with just water. I have a plan, but we’re going to need a couple of things. I need a dozen men, a wagon, some shovels and as many canvas sacks as you can get your hands on. We’re going to fill them with sand and use it to take out the fire, alright?”

Messia seemed reluctant at first, but after another gust of wind swept through the streets, distending the fires, she nodded and turned towards the people that seemed under her command for the time being. After another set of instructions spoken in Fallien native tongue, a portion of the crowd scattered and within the minute all the necessary items were procured.

“We have to hurry.” the woman said, struggling a bit with Tradespeak as she uttered the words. “Or there won’t be Irrakam by the time we return.”

Letho cracked the whip over the back of a rather old looking nag and sent the wagon charging through the streets and towards the outskirts. The volunteers that sat in the back of the carriage felt like sacks of potatoes as the Marshal sped through the streets, following Messia’s instructions until the road turned from cobbles into trotted dirt and the houses gave way to picturesque cottages. Defiantly, as if the nature deliberately opposed them, the dry desert wind slapped their faces, reminding them that every second counted.

It took almost fifteen minutes to fill all the sacks that they had. The locals did most of the work on the filling while Letho effortlessly lifted the heavy sacks into the wagon, arranging them rather neatly. Once the work was done, he told Messia to instruct them to go to some of the nearby houses and look for some more sacks, then fill them with sand while the two of them delivered this batch to Irrakam.

The ride back seemed at least twice as long even though they followed more or less the same route. The wind seemed to establish a constant flow now, refusing to give them a break. The smoke was thicker now, clouding the vision and forcing the Marshal do drive the wagon considerably slower, but thanks to Messia’s good navigation, they reached one of the gigantic fires relatively fast. Letho got into the back of the wagon, then noticed that Ira was once again on the forefront, throwing bucket after bucket of water on the fire that seemed to grow stronger just to spite her efforts.

“Ira! Ira, come here!” he shouted, calling the Fallien girl while undoing one of the sacks. “The water will do no good now that the wind picked up! We have to use sand. Tell the people to get as much sand or dirt or whatever and throw it on the fire!”

With that said, he flung the first untied sack at the fire. The canvas thing spun through mid air, spreading the contents all over the flames. Letho didn’t stand around to witness the rather minute but prominent results. His titanic strength enabled him to take the heavy sack and fling them with immaculate precision, striking the heart of the fire and delivering the sandy death. It was him and the people against the wind and the fire and after some ten minutes it was rather clear who won the bout.

They cheered, they clapped their hands, they patted his shoulders and shook his hands once the fires were completely out and all he wanted to do is get to Myrhia. However, the weary, ash-covered faces of the folk that initially accepted him with cold courtesy now seemed thankful and even elated by his presence. There were no more explosions, no more devouring flames, and the dense shroud of smoke was the only remnant of the fires that only moments earlier threatened to destroy the entire capitol. Messia, getting into the whole celebration sprit, placed a warm pecker on his cheek as the two of them approached Ira who seemed at the ends of her strength.

“Well, I think congratulations are in order. We all did fairly well given the circumstances to preserve as much of Irrakam as possible.” he said to the woman with a mild smirk on his face. The people around them murmured and spoke and shouted, all overjoyed by the victory over one of the deadliest elements.

[Iriah Caitrak]

She couldn’t believe it. At a time like this the wind was picking up and giving the flames even more life when she’d thought that maybe, just maybe a little bit more and they’d get it under control. Now there seemed to be no hope in doing that but she wouldn’t give up. Though every muscle in her arm and shoulders and even a few in her back were straining with each heavy bucket and with each throw she would not give up. Though the Gods be against her and the wind may hate her today until she collapsed she’d continue to fight this fire so that no one else ended up like Uri.

Someone seemed to have come up with a plan though.

As the Calerian warrior heard her name being called she turned to see Letho with Messia a cart filled with people and dirt. She didn’t need the explanation that came next from Letho, she knew exactly what he was thinking and wanted to slap herself in the face for not thinking it. The dirt would smother the fire a lot faster than the water would put it out, especially now with the wind blowing.

Dropping her bucket, Ira raced over to the wagon and grabbed one of the sacks of dirt. They were heavy, much heavier than the water and it required both her and Messia to heft the thing over to the flames and hurl the contents outwards. Letho was some kind of machine though, hefting the sacks easily by himself and throwing the dirt to the flame. She couldn’t believe he was that strong, but she didn’t have time to muse about it, she had flames to conquer and within fifteen minutes that felt like forever they were conquered and smothered and out never to return. Well, perhaps not never, but she would hope that nothing else was going to set itself on fire this day or anytime soon, she wanted nothing to do with flames.

As everyone else cheered Ira felt like collapsing, she was even feeling a little light headed not that she’d let anyone know about it. She could make it back to the inn they were staying at, then she could collapse but right now she had to stay on her feet and pretend to be as happy as everyone here felt. It just seemed so empty without Uri’s little cheerful cries to help string her along.

Rolling her shoulders, Ira turned to her side and saw Messia give Letho a kiss on the cheek and her eyes narrowed considerably. Messia didn’t know how Uri had died or that she’d died chasing after this foolish man, perhaps something equally foolish on her part, but Uri had always been one to jump into things head first in order to help someone. His words made the very hate she had thought pointless to feel about him boil in her blood though. She wanted to punch him in the face and wipe that smirk off of it and maybe even knock a few teeth out while she was there.

“Yeah, sure…” Ira began, her words sounding empty, almost like how she felt, “why don’t you congratulate yourself with the death of Uri while you’re at it. After all, she died chasing after your foolhardy attempt to abandon us to our own fates without a care.”

The smile that had covered Messia’s face disappeared the moment the words were out. That small light in her eyes she always got when she was happy was gone too and Ira hated herself for making it go away but she couldn’t help it. She couldn’t pretend to be happy like everyone else and she couldn’t congratulate this bastard, on what, helping to put out some flames when the true test of his character had already come and gone and he’d failed. After all, he’d left them all there to die in those fires and he hadn’t even cared.

Messia moved away from Letho and walked passed Ira, placing a small hand on her shoulder as she walked by. Ira saw the tears in her eyes and saw the look on her face but knew she couldn’t help. Messia just needed to be alone to think to herself, to do whatever it was people did when they grieved for someone because really, Ira had no idea what it was.

Saying the words had done nothing to help the Calerian, they didn’t make her feel better. They were just words after all and could do nothing to fill that empty space. Turning her back to the stranger Ira began to walk away. She had no idea where she was going, perhaps back to the Inn, anywhere really. She’d have to eventually come back and dig the body of her friend out of that mass of rubble and ash but right now the stones were too hot. It would have to wait for the evening when the cool night air touched them and cooled them down. Then the rocks could be removed and the dead would be given their burial rights. Uri would have to wait for the journey back to the tribe though; a Calerian’s burial rights were different than the rest of Fallien. Uri needed to be honoured for all she had done in this life and prayers needed to be said so that she made it to Sanctuary.

Yet Ira knew she was already there. No souls were lingering around this mess and a Calerian who spent her life fighting and releasing those with regrets who had stayed behind and turned into monsters would not do so herself.

[Letho]

Letho knew his treachery would catch up with him. That kinds of things always went around and came around to punch you in the face when you least expect it, on some idle Tuesday while you’re relishing in the melancholic dusk. But what he didn’t expect was for it to catch up with him so soon, and definitely not in the manner that they did once Ira spoke her cold words. The merriment of the mass recognized the gravity of the uttered words, noticed the deadly serious chill in the quicksilver eyes and the failure at any kind of rebuttal in Letho’s, and their cheers first doused down, then turned into murmurs and finger-pointing. From hero to zero (or less) in a matter of seconds.

“Uri? Uri as in Uriahd?”

The Marshal still couldn’t quite conceive it. It was an irrational, senseless emotion. After all, he knew that his decision could come at a price of several lives, he knew what stood on the other end of the scale. And yet seeing the hatred mixed with sorrow in Ira’s eyes, seeing the shift in Messia that went from overjoyed to doleful before his very eyes, it introduced him to the real consequences of his actions. And now, in retrospect of his charge through the flames, he could remember a scream that got lost in the swoosh of the wind that darted past his ears and the crackling of the fire. He neglected it until now, ignored it, classified it as just one of the locals singing their hands on the flames, but now he realized that it was Uri’s death shriek.

“What is she talking about, Letho?” a weak, slightly husky voice came from his side where Myrhia now stood, holding both blankets around her tiny form. Letho didn’t respond. Instead he scurried after the Fallien woman and her friend, stopping her with a gentle hand that grasped her shoulder.

“Wait. Ira I... I didn’t know. I’m sorry to hear about Uriahd.”

Despite the tangible sympathy in his voice, Ira merely snatched her shoulder away from his grasp and proceeded through the street. Messia, who was until a couple of moments ago looking at him as if he was a reincarnation of Fallien heroes of old now gazed at him with half-disappointed and fully sorrowful eyes. And then she too followed her friend further into the smoky mist that made Irrakam look like a sleepy city on a misty morning.

“What happened, Letho? Is Uriahd dead?” Myrhia once again made her way to his side, her large eyes looking up at his face that seemed to lose all its royal fairness, all its adamant strictness, leaving a weary wanderer that peered into the smoky streets.

“Let’s just get to the inn and get some rest.”

***

Wanderer’s Sanctum had the luck to be located in a rather unremarkable part of the Fallien capitol. It was a homey looking, two-storey house with a flat roof and somewhat of a rustic interior. Letho initially wanted to take a room in some of the more majestic inns – they were, after all, traveling on a rather hefty budget issued by the Corone Government – but Myrhia in her never-ending modesty insisted on this place. It was silent, away from the main streets, and still comfy enough to satisfy their desires.

However, the tranquility that was one of the prime characteristics of the Sanctum was nowhere to be found once the pair reached the inn. With a great number of people losing their homes in the fires, the proprietor of the hostel turned most of his rooms into a shelter for those who wound up without a roof over their heads. Mattresses were sprawled all over the common room, all the spare rooms packed with people with wistful, disbelieving faces, children in filthy clothes that searched for the parents that were bound never to be found again. It was a horrible sight, making Letho feel as if there was a war ranging outside the door and these people got caught in the crossfire. This had to be the work of the Coalition and he was determined to get to the bottom of it all.

Myrhia was silent during their trek through the smoke-filled streets, thoughtful and utterly miserable, but once the doors closed behind them and they stood in their room, her curiosity couldn’t handle the silence anymore. She plopped down on the bed, sighed in a specific manner that announced a question, and spoke: “So what happened to Ira and her friend?” The redhead, though seemingly wide-eyed at first sight, wasn’t a complete nitwit. She heard what Ira said, heard the accusation that spoke of abandonment, but she reckoned there was more to it, that there had to be more to it. Letho wasn’t the type that chickened out, fire or no fire.

“Just drop it, Myri. It doesn’t matter.” he said, his voice distant and uninterested as he pushed the curtain just enough for him to look down at the streets.

“Don’t give me that. Don’t you dare. I saw the look in her eyes, I heard what she said. What happened?” Myrhia said, dropping the blankets that kept her warm so far and standing up to approach Letho. The Marshal remained silent, unmoving, as if she didn’t say a word. “Why Uri died? What did you do? She said you abandoned them? Why? Why would she say that!?”

“BECAUSE I DID!” she snatched his head at her. His usually phlegmatic brown eyes were now almost furious. She shivered at the unhinged, uncontrolled power in his voice and he continued in a soft but callous manner. “When the explosion knocked you into the well, I was stuck with Ira and the rest of them behind the collapsed buildings. I could’ve stayed behind and help Ira get them out, but I didn’t. I jumped through the flames and into the well. Uri tried to follow me, but she didn’t make it.”

The silence in the pause was almost tangible enough to be touched. “I had to make a choice. And I chose you.”

Myrhia was speechless. What could she say to his words? That he shouldn’t have done it? That he should’ve left her to drown and save a hundred people or more? That he was wrong to do everything in his power to keep them together? That instead of clinging to love, he should’ve clung to his principles? No, she couldn’t say that. Not right now anyways. But the fact of the matter was that despite the rescue he performed, Myrhia was disappointed in Letho. Her will for life was screaming at her that she was foolish to think so, and yet she couldn’t shake off this realization that Letho Ravenheart wasn’t a knight on a white horse. He too was just a man.

They both had restless sleep that night, and when the morning came both felt more tired then they were when they went to bed on the night before.

[Iriah Caitrak]

Neither woman said anything to the other on the walk back to the Inn. There was nothing to say, there weren’t enough words on the face of this planet to take away the pain and the loss. Still, Ira found herself unable to cry at the loss of her friend, she found an empty place within herself she was somehow stuck in, a place that seemed to absorb all her feelings and leave her dry and dead on the outside. Eyes that should have been swirling with their usual silver were not dull and grey, reflecting her dour mood.

Pushing through the door to the Inn, Ira went up to the rooms they’d all previously rented and walked in. All she wanted to do was collapse on the bed and never wake up again, but she had to have a shower first. She was sweaty and covered in ash. Grabbing the bathroom first, Ira took a quick, cold shower. Washing away the dirt and the ash from the fires and trying to wash away the image of Uri falling into the flames, but no matter how hard she tried it wouldn’t go away. At least Messia would not be plagued by such an image; she was blissfully ignorant to how painful a death Uri might have suffered.

Leaving the washroom and watching Messia enter it without a word, Ira quickly dressed in clean clothes and threw her dirty ones in a corner. She was starring out the window and looking at the distant sky where the sun was beginning just beginning to set. Walking over and opening it, Ira was surprised to see the Innkeeper outside her door with a large platter of food in his hands.

“We heard how you helped Irrakam today and we just wanted to give you our thanks.”

Ira gave a man a genuine smile for his kindness and took the food, thanking him in return and wondering to herself just how he’d heard about it. News probably travelled fast in Irrakam and Messia and her did stand out being Calerians.

“Do you think you could do me a favour?” Ira asked him.

He looked surprised but didn’t hesitate, “Of course, what do you need.”

“A few hours after the sun goes down and it’s cooler outside I would like for you to send someone to wake me, but just me, not Messia.”

He nodded his head, thanked her once again for what she’d done for Irrakam and left her in peace. Closing the door in his wake, Ira set the tray of food down on the table and turned towards the bathroom door as she heard Messia turn the water off. Seconds later she came out and threw her dirty clothes in the corner then got dressed.

“Where’d the food come from?” She asked as she brushed out her long red hair.

“The Innkeeper, as thanks for what we did today.”

Neither one of them was very hungry but they each knew they had to eat to keep their strength up. So they picked and they munched as much as they could before they crawled into their own beds and tried to sleep. The third empty bed in the room and the items around it a reminder to what they’d lost today, something that made it hard to sleep. Eventually exhaustion overtook the both of them and they passed out just as the last of the sun disappeared under the horizon and Irrakam was left in darkness.


--------------------------

Hours later, how many Ira didn’t know, but she heard a gentle knocking on her door that stirred her from her sleep. She couldn’t remember what she’d been dreaming about. Standing up, Ira walked over and opened the door; a woman was standing on the other side with a candle in her hand. Nodding her thanks, Ira closed the door but not all the way. Quickly she dressed in more appropriate clothing for walking around outside in, then grabbed her rucksack and quietly left the room and Messia where she was sleeping.

Walking through the deserted streets of Irrakam at night was rather peaceful and drastically different to the bustling of it during the day. It was like an entirely different city at night and it helped calm her for what she was about to do. Making her way to the crumbled buildings, Ira took a deep breath, took off her rucksack and began climbing what was once a building. Every now and then a rock shifted, something crumbled and something collapsed under her weight forcing her to act quickly. But the stones were no longer blistering hot, the cool night air of Fallien cooling them.

Once at the top, Ira used the light of the moon and the stairs to see if she could find a way through the rubble and down to where Uri’s body probably was. No such luck though, and so painstakingly she began to remove stone after stone, tossing them over the side as she went, hoping for a way below.

Hours passed and soon the light of the sun began to creep up over the horizon and soon it would be too hot for her to work again. But she’d made progress, she’d gotten through some of the smaller rocks and could see a small clearing in the rocks, something that was not filled with rubble and the hole was almost big enough for her to fit through. However, as the sun rose and the people began to emerge from their homes, Ira quickly realized something was not right.

Carefully picking her way down, she grabbed her rucksack and flung it over a shoulder then approached the first group of people she found.

“What’s going on?”

One of the faces she recognized as someone she’d helped yesterday.

“We don’t know, The Keep has been taken over, it’s sealed shut and no one can get inside. Worst yet, no one knows where The Jya is.”

Cursing, Ira raced off to local law enforcement building. Once there she quickly explained the situation to them. In turn, they quickly began to mobilize a force some kind of force to storm The Keep.

“I’m going with you.” Ira said.

“Look, thank for the information, but we can handle this on our own.”

Ira eyed the woman in front of her; she was quickly putting on armour to cover her chest, forearms and shins. A sword strapped to her back and one at her side, other melee weapons going about her body.

“You need all the help you can get, a foreign enemy has invaded the freaking Keep!”

The woman gave her a quick once over as if wondering if she could even fight.

“Alright, grab some weapons. There are secret underground passages that we can use to get into The Keep in case of such a thing as this. The only problem is they’re a maze and only the Jya and a few of her priestesses know their way around down there.”

Ira smirked, “I’ve fought off legions of corrupted souls in a place you’re better off believing doesn’t exist, if you think an underground maze is going to scare me you’ve got another thing coming.”

There were a few murmurs from some of the other warriors gearing up, not all of them women either, a few men strapping on armour and weapons as well.

“You’re a Calerian, aren’t you?” Someone from behind Brye asked.

“In the flesh.”

Brye shook her head, “Well I’ll be damned. I didn’t think that tribe even existed.”

A lot of people in Fallien thought her tribe long since extinct but she didn’t really care.

Someone from behind Brye stepped out, a male, a face she recalled from the other day and he seemed to recall her too.

“I remember you from yesterday,” he said to her, “thanks for what you did.”

“Thank me after we save The Jya.”

[Letho]

“You won’t save anybody by charging in there like a stampede.” Letho’s voice was regal and frigid, its power successfully shushing every single person in the barracks of the local law, where the locals started to gather some sort of militia. Heads turned almost in a jerk, most present as tense as guitar wires, their eyes acknowledging the bulky figure that stood in the doorframe with his gauntleted hands folded in front of his chest. Behind his back, like a note of warning, the gunblade dubbed theLawmaker stood in its holster, together with his bastard sword. Myrhia, never too fond of showmanship and public presentation, stood behind him, holding her spear.

The Marshal heard the news about the occupation of the Keep the second he got up. How couldn’t he when a town crier that bawled the announcement under his window roused him from the thin sleep? He couldn’t understand the words, but the commotion was pretty self-explanatory, clearly stating that something has gone terribly awry. The innkeeper gave him the details, then told him to stay out of this because this was Fallien business and that they would take care of it. Letho, of course, didn’t listen to the man. After all, he knew something nobody in Irrakam did. He knew that this was the Coalition’s mischief and since he was sent to investigate the activity of this alleged organization, he had no choice but to arm himself and make his way to the closest barracks. Myrhia, though still rather tired and pensive about the events that transpired yesterday, followed.

“With all due respect, stranger, but what the hell do you know about Irrakam or Jya’s Keep? This isn’t your battle, so back off.” the man that seemed to have some sort of a rank spoke from the crowd, enmity amplified by the stress more then apparent in his tone.

“I know that this is no ordinary attack.” the Marshal responded, stepping inside confidently, his demeanor perfectly solemn. Not even when he saw a familiar face in the crowd that reminded him of the treachery of Uriahd did his face change. “I know that the organization that is responsible for the fires yesterday is behind this as well. They are well organized. They will anticipate your bullheaded move.”

“And what organization is this?”

“I’m not at liberty to speak of that. What I will speak of is the plan that could enable you to successfully infiltrate the keep and hopefully save your Jya.” Letho said, oblivious to the frowns and itchy fingers around him that didn’t appreciate a foreigner telling them what to do and how to do it. “If you take a contingent of your militia and feign an attack on the front gate, they will turn their eyes there. It might be enough for a small group to slip past their defenses and into these tunnels you speak of.”

“And I guess you want to be in this group, siahd!”

“Correction, I will be in this group.” the Marshal spoke, and before the leader of the local guards had the chance to rebuke what was said, Letho’s hand slipped into the interior of his pocket and produced a folded piece of paper. He lowered it on the wobbly desk. “This is an official letter of the Fallien embassy in Radasanth, signed by your ambassador, which promises full cooperation of the local law enforcement. Now, you can either accept it or we could take it to your superior.”

The gray-haired captain of the Irrakam guard picked up the letter in his gloved fingers, skimmed over it, noticing both the seal of the Fallien Government and one of The Assembly. He tossed the paper back at Letho. “This is bureaucratic bullshit.”

The dark knight pocketed the letter sedately. “Maybe so. But that bureaucracy is over both of our heads. Now, you can either take me as an ally and we can go remedy this situation or we can keep arguing here while the life of your Queen is at risk.”

“Alright.” the man finally conceded, though mistrust never departed from his glare. “But I’ll keep my eye on you, siahd.” He then turned to one of his sergeants, a huge mountain of a man that seemed to be still in his early twenties. “Alikam, you will be in charge of this fake attack. Make it look good, but get out if it gets too dangerous. Set up a perimeter around the bridges and gates and try to take them from distance as much as possible.”

Letho, satisfied with the outcome, pushed his way through the arming crowd, opting not to speak with Ira for the time being. What could he say to her anyways? ‘Sorry’ could only go so far and it got bland if it was uttered too many times. Besides, he was rather certain that that woman didn’t want to hear it anyways. Instead he exited the barracks and entered the gradually growing heat of the Irrakam morning, waiting for the locals to get armed and ready for another day or fighting. Yesterday they had a less tangible enemy, the one with a flimsy aim that sprayed devastation all over their capitol. Today their enemy struck the heart.

“You know, you could sometimes try the friendly approach?” Myrhia said once he was outside, eliciting a smirk on his bearded face. “People respond to a proposition much better then they do to an... Hey, is that Ira?”

It was, of course. Letho hoped that the redhead wouldn’t notice the Fallien woman from yesterday, but Myrhia’s emerald eyes spotted the woman in the crowd that was gathering around the captain. Without hesitation that only further depicted her still childish innocence, the willowy ex-slave made her way through the armored militia until she stood before the confident female. “Ira, I... I’m really sorry about Uriahd. If there is anything we can do...” she spoke and in her eyes there was this moist spark, pure and sympathetic, an eerily glitter that whispered in its own wordless manner that Myrhia meant every word of what she said.

[Iriah Caitrak]

She couldn’t believe it. Not again and not in this place. She had everything under control, she knew what she was doing and she didn’t need him to help her with any of it. Seeing his face only reminded her of Uri, and right now that was the last thing she needed on her mind. Death did odd things to people and Ira did not want her head clouded with it when she was about to run into The Keep, which was overrun with enemy soldiers. And frankly she didn’t care about the bureaucracy of Fallien or of Corone, she didn’t fall under either of those and neither of them restrained her, but they restrained everyone else here.

If only she had the courage she invade The Keep by herself and she knew of just a way she could get in without a single person even seeing or sensing her. Purgatory. But that option was not open to her. Even if she did somehow manage to get inside she wouldn’t know where to go and she would be a force of one up against a many, a many she knew nothing about.

By Sanctuary why was she being punished and forced to work with this man again? Why couldn’t he just leave her in peace, just leave her damned country and never come back?

After his speech was over, Ira, Brye and the Captain of this group fell into conversation again, Ira mentioning yesterday to them yet not disclosing anything about Uri or his abandonment, that wouldn’t help the situation.

“By the way, you never gave us your name.” Brye said to her.

“I’m sorry, Ira of Shinkara,” she smiled solemnly and inclined her head.

“Captain Eagis, you’ve already met Brye, she’s my second in command. Alikam, who’ll be leading this fake attack is one of my best men, I trust him with me life. We’ll be going with you and the siahd into The Keep.”

“His name’s Letho Ravenheart,” Ira said to him, “And the small woman at his side is Myrhia.”

As if on cue the skinny little redhead emerged before Ira, giving sympathetic words with eyes that truly meant it. But they had no effect on her.

So Uri died because he wanted to save this woman…

“Actions speak louder than words, and Letho’s actions will forever speak louder than any apology you or he can give me. He made his choice and no matter what you say to me I know what kind of man he is and no good deed done in this country after yesterday will erase it from my mind because I will wake up every morning knowing she is gone, while he’ll still have you.”

She didn’t wait to see what kind of reaction her words evoked in the tiny woman. Pushing passed Myrhia and through the crowd, Ira left the law enforcement headquarters. She needed to get out of there and get away from all the people. Once outside, Ira took a quivering breath then let out a scream of frustration, spun around and punched the wall. Her small fist impacted on hard stone, splitting the skin around and in between her knuckles. Not caring about the pain, she drew his arm back and threw her fist against the wall again and again and again until she had to force herself to stop for fear of breaking one of her knuckles or fingers. At this point her hand was bloodied, bruised and swollen, but she didn’t care, she could barely feel it anyway.

Death did odd things to people and it was numbing her.

Ira was leaning against the wall when Captain Eagis came out, “We’re sending Alikam and those engaging in the fake attack out now—what happened to your hand? And more importantly what happened between you and those two siahd’s yesterday?”

“Don’t ask, are you and Brye ready for what’s next?”

The Captain smirked, “Always, but you don’t, where are your weapons and armour?”

“Oh, we Calerians have a few tricks up our sleeves. I’m armoured enough for fighting the living and you don’t need to worry about weapons, I’m armed to the teeth.”

She actually was armed to the teeth considering she could form however many weapons she needed with the Serena Crystal, Captain Eagis just didn’t know that and she didn’t plan on telling him. He just looked at her sceptically and nodded his head. Sceptic or not it seemed he was going to trust that she knew what she was doing.

Grabbing some medical supplies from her rucksack, Ira wrapped her hand in cloth as she watched Alikam and his fighters exit the building and move out towards The Keep. It was then at that moment she realized Letho was also outside, she hadn’t seen or noticed him before, probably because she’d been to caught up in the moment. For a moment she wondered if he’d seen her little outburst, then shrugged the thought off. It didn’t matter either way; she was just going to have to put up with him for the time being. Then, hopefully, she’d never have to see him again. Odd, how every time she met someone from Corone things ended up badly. First Kadarus and now these two, she was having no luck with that region as it seemed.

“Alright, let’s move out. The Underground passages are near the waterway, hopefully any guards nearby will end up being routed to defend against the frontal attack.”

“If not, there’s always plan B.” Ira said to Captain Eagis with a calculating smirk.

“There’s a plan B?”

“There’s always a plan B when you’ve got a Calerian around.”

Captain Eagis not knowing what to make of this remark shrugged it off for the time being and began moving out, Ira following at his side with Brye beside her.

[Letho]

Ira’s indurate reply devastated Myrhia and even as the Fallien woman rudely pushed past her and through the door, the feeble redhead was swept by gruesome guilt. Because Ira was right; she should’ve died yesterday. For so many times, Letho and she faced a dreadful peril and every time she was of no use, always either getting in the way or getting in trouble. And while on previous occasions her salvation came at no particular cost, yesterday a woman lost her life because of it. So ultimately, it was her fault all along. If she didn’t tag along with Letho, he wouldn’t have to watch over her all the time and instead could use that time to aid others. Myrhia always thought that she wasn’t good enough for somebody like him and while he always strongly opposed any such connotations, the recent developments started to assure the redhead that it might be truth. And this realization combined with the burden of guilt managed to kill her ever-high spirits.

Letho, on the other hand, slowly grew tired of this guilt game, especially once he saw Ira lash out on Myrhia. He didn’t murder Uri, he didn’t make her follow him through the flames and while he was willing to take the heat for the desertion of the others, it was something that would haunt him. Him, not Myrhia. The redhead was faultless in all of this and as such didn’t deserve the bitterness that Ira had aplenty. But more out of respect for Uri’s death then because of anything else, Letho kept his mouth shut and watched as the violet-haired woman with the garlic on her tongue took out her anger on the barracks wall.

Captain Eagis emerged from the packed barracks shortly after Ira’s lost battle with the sturdy stone and he was followed by his second in command and ultimately Myrhia who, after speaking with Ira, was left standing in the armed crowd. The redhead looked lethargic and wistful, the vibrant spark in her eyes lost somewhere between the lines of Ira’s brusque answer. She didn’t cry, but Letho knew her almost as much as she knew him and he knew that she was at the verge of doing so. It was the direness of the situation that prevented her from doing so, from falling on her knees before Ira and beg her for forgiveness. Letho would never even think of doing that, but Myrhia was a crier and an innocent soul that couldn’t handle the fact that people hated her.

“She’ll never forgive us, Letho.” she said in a soft tone while the Captain did his final preparations with his second in command and Ira. “She’ll never forgive me.”

Letho’s ominous-looking gauntlets gently landed on both of her shoulders, his head bowing in order to be at her level. “Now, listen to me. What happened yesterday wasn’t your fault. You did nothing wrong. But where death walks, callousness walks in its wake. Trust me, I would know.”

Usually Myrhia would smile and maybe even playfully accuse him that he was an expert at being a stoic, emotionless grouch, but today she could only nod and shrug her shoulders. She wanted so badly to get on Ira’s good side, to offer her empathy that pulsed with every beat of her little heart, and yet the words that the woman spoke to her were so coldly definite, so irrevocable. To Letho, Ira was just another stranger that would have a grudge against him at the end of the day, but Myrhia cared too much about everything to just walk over it. So when the two of them followed the Fallien trio, the redhead seemed as exanimate as if the chains of the slavers were once again clasped around her wrists and ankles.

The small infiltration unit made out of five volunteers walked rather casually at first, but the closer they got to the wall that separated Jya’s Keep from the rest of the city, the slower and more tentative their gait became. Ultimately, they came to a full stop behind what seemed like a rather ordinary house that was the last one in the street that looked directly at the wall that loomed over it and the waterway beneath it. Jya’s Keep was basically a fort, a rather sizeable one, but a fort nonetheless. Fallien constructors managed to divert the portion of the river to flow directly around the keep, creating a moat, but given its shallowness, it was a mere ornamental detail. The ramparts went almost precisely to the water level. The only entrance to the Keep were several drawbridges that led through steel-plated gates.

An assortment of shouts and screams announced that Alikam and his troops started executing their diversion. Captain Eagis knew that this was their cue, but even as he made a step out of the hiding and towards the waterway, he instantly recoiled and gestured to the others to stop in their tracks. Letho disobeyed the order just long enough to stick his head around the edge of the building and ascertain the situation, all in one glance.

“There are two guards on the walls. We mustn’t let them see us.” the captain spoke and his second in command, a rather imposing woman with sun-kissed tan, nodded, taking off the long bow that hung over shoulder. Letho’s hand steadied her though.

“There are three of them, captain. The third one is in the shadow of the watchtower. We need to take them out all at the same time, or one of them will raise an alarm.” the Marshal spoke, giving Ira a rather lengthy look, expecting her to interject. However, given the fact that the woman had no ranged weapons on her – or no weaponry whatsoever – he continued. “Brye, you take the rightmost one. I’ll take care of the other two. Myrhianna, daggers.”

The redhead didn’t react instantly. She was too deep in thought, her eyes fleeing to Ira every time the woman didn’t look at her. Once Letho reiterated his order, she snapped out of it though, puling a pair of throwing daggers from the holster on her thigh and handing them over with an embarrassed smile. The swordsman took both in one hand, aligned them diligently under his thumb so that there was a fraction of an inch between the pair of twin weapons, and then nodded to the Fallien woman.

They jumped out of the shadow of the awning simultaneously, Brye aiming her already strung arrow and sending it immaculately towards her target some forty feet above. Letho wasn’t too far behind. By the time she released her projectile, the Marshal pulled his hand back and sent the pair of daggers spinning through the air. They scudded upwards, taking almost coinciding diagonal trajectories, but some ten feet before they would reach the crown of the fortifications, they separated as if an invisible hand pushed them. One took the guard in the temple, the other imbedding itself in the neck of the sentry that stood leisurely leant against the tower wall. All three figures slumped down almost in sync.

He didn’t wait for captain Eagis to take the lead again. With the coast clear, Letho led the way down the slanted bank of the moat and into the flowing water with Myrhia following close behind. They both footslogged through the clear, neck-deep water as fast as they could given the fact that they were fully armed - the Marshal holding his gunblade out of the water and the redhead moving her toes to keep her mouth above the water - but the moat itself wasn’t too wide, so within a minute they found their way to the small round outlet half filled with water. They found some firm footing there, water still up to their waist and slightly less pure then the one outside, but at least they breached the first defenses without a hitch. However, the tunnel they entered led into a rather spacious underground room with at least ten passages leading from it. With the light being scarce and given the fact that the only knowledge of where to go next came from his gut feeling, Letho turned to the captain and his companions.

“So, I’m guessing you know which way we ought to go, captain?”

[Iriah Caitrak]

She knew she’d been hard on the scrawny little redhead. Her anger, the very anger she said she could do without, had taken the best of her and she’s spoken without thought. But there was nothing the Calerian could do about it, apologizing was not within her at the moment, nothing was within her at the moment. Just this hollow space and she didn’t want it to fill with anger and hate, that could destroy a person.

Leaving against a random wall outside The Keep, Ira could feel the eyes of the redhead on her and could catch glimpses of her out of the corner of her eye. Apparently, her words had affected Myrhia and Ira wasn’t sure if she felt remorse or gratification at that fact. It wasn’t her fault what had happened, it wasn’t even entirely Letho’s either. A combination of choices that resulted in one outcome, because that’s what life was all about when you got down to it, choices.

Right now, her choice was to push anything about Uri aside. There were other things she needed to concern herself with and the dead was not one of, not while she was with the living.

Coming back from her thoughts into the moment, Ira heard Letho and Captain Eagis talking about the guards on the rampart and taking them out as quickly and quietly as possible, before any of them could sound an alarm. Letho turned to her as if he expected her to interject on any of this or perhaps jump up and down for joy at the prospect of killing someone. She didn’t and she never would. Though trained in combat—and trained well—she was bred to fight the dead, not the living and a human life was something she had never taken before, nor did she plan on doing it anytime soon.

Once the attack was over, Ira moved out with the others, suffering from a brief moment of panic as she looked at the moat before her. However, the moment faded as she realized it was ornamental, standing on her toes the water was just at the base of her neck and though annoying she didn’t have to swim, or try to anyway since she couldn’t.

Keeping her eyes ahead of her the Calerian didn’t glance to the rampart where the fallen guards were. She knew all three of them were dead, not because she’d watched the attack—she hadn’t—but because she could sense all three of their souls hovering by what had once been their bodies. The Calerian also felt it when they left this plane of existence to wherever their destination was, Sanctuary or Abyss, she didn’t know and frankly she didn’t really care. They weren’t staying behind and they weren’t in Purgatory, therefore they weren’t her problem.

Inside the tunnel, still waist in deep water, the small band of saviours stopped in their tracks realizing they had ten different choices before them and any one of them could be the way.

This was not what she’d expected when Brye had mentioned an underground maze of tunnels. Still, she had confidence that they could make it through and get to the Jya and something else…

“No, as I told Ira earlier, only Jya and a few of her Priestess’s know the way down here. There are multiple exits and entrances; really we could end up anywhere in The Keep or not even inside it. We’ll just have to pray Survani be with us and guide us in the right direction.” Captain Eagis said in response to Letho.

Ira on the other hand didn’t trust Survani or any other of the Fallien Gods to guide or help them in this endeavour. She’d seen too much of what others didn’t even believe in to even hope that those high beings cared about them or what happened to them. No, they were on their own for this and luck be with them.

“Am azraya yuddhas trae ajman.”*

“Am azraya yuddhas?” Eagis looked at her incredulously.

It wasn’t only gut instinct. There was also the fact that she could see the slightly translucent figure of a Priestess standing in the shadows watching them, but she wasn’t about to tell Eagis or anyone else for that matter. Whoever she was, she quickly realized Ira could see her and motioned for her to follow into the tunnel. Ira nodded her head to the soul. Luck was on their side today and so was the soul of a woman who knew more about these tunnels then they did, if not the way into the heart of The Keep.

“Na, am azraya yuddhas, te ta.”

She didn’t wait for protests or any other suggestion. This was the way they needed to go.

Surprisingly the soul didn’t speak to her, just began meandering through the tunnels, taking turn after turn and Ira quickly realized what a daunting and possible impossible task this would have been without her help. Every now and then she glanced back at Ira, who smiled tentively in return, all the while wondering how she’d died, why she was down here and why she wouldn’t move on. Something she would have to remedy by the end of this. It was just odd for the soul wasn’t speaking; normally they talked a lot when they finally found someone who could hear and see them. Still, everyone was different; perhaps she had nothing to say.

The water had slowly began to thin out the more they travelled through the tunnels, what had been up to rib cage before was now lapping against her hips. It made walking a more sluggish task, but she ignored it as best she could. Fallien were not used to water, she was used to walking through sand, which didn’t provide resistance, just slid out from beneath you.

Suddenly, Ira thought she heard the light sound of a click and the soul in front of her spun around wide-eyed and before she even spoke a single word Ira got the message.

“Trap!”

She’d been through this before, but damn it, where was it coming from? Too many thoughts, too many questions, too many possibilities and not enough time. Arrows shot out from the wall at them, Ira was into way skilled enough to catch or knock them away. She did the only thing she could do hoping to avoid them, dive down into the water. Holding her breath for as long as she could, which really wasn’t that long, probably only a good ten or fifteen seconds. Ira came to the surface, Brye following after her, her heart sinking the moment her head left the water.

Eagis had reacted fast enough, his chest and stomach pierced by the small arrows. Ira and Brye rushed over to him but there was nothing they could do. The arrow had pierced his lung and was extremely close to his heart. He probably had seconds.

“Captain, hang in there…”

He gave a bitter smile as a small trail of blood dripped down from the corner of his mouth, “No getting out of this one…Brye, you’re in charge now…” His words sounded gargled, as if he lungs were filling with his blood and Ira could tell he was having and difficult time breathing. But that wasn’t going to kill him, the blood loss was. His skin normally tanned was as pale as the moon. He gave one more attempt at breath and then Ira watched the life leave his eyes, his body slumping into the water.

Brye turned away, Ira kept watching as his soul was torn from his body. He looked exactly how he had in death. There were no arrows within him, but his clothes were torn where they had gone through and smeared with blood. Blood that was beginning to mix into the water they were standing in, staining it.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I forgot about the traps…”

Ira glanced back at the soul of the Priestess and her muttered apology. She couldn’t tell if she was speaking to her or to the soul of Eagis, who looked from Brye to the Priestess and then down to her.

“What they say about Calerian’s is true then?”

“It is…” Ira said to him.

He smiled at her, “Tell Brye she’ll make a great Captain and tell her to stop crying, damn it. I can never stand to see a woman cry, it’s heartbreaking.”

Ira nodded her head to him, “Go in peace, Eagis.”

With that he disappeared, a black and red butterfly left in the soul’s place for a moment before it too left.

“Captain Brye,” The other woman looked up at her with sorrow in her eyes, “let’s move out, we’ve still got Jya to save, we’ll cry over the dead later.” She didn’t say it harshly, just resolutely. They needed to move.

Walking head of the others, Ira nodded to the soul of the Priestess still with them, “continue please.”

“I’m sorry…I forgot about the traps.”

“It’s okay, but please, continue…”

The soul nodded her head to Ira and continued on into the passage.




(*“Guy instinct, third passage.”
“Gut instinct?”
“Yep, gut instinct, let’s go.”)

[Letho]

Letho expected to be kept out of the loop given the rather brassy manner in which he forced himself into the infiltrating group. So when captain and Ira collaborated on which path they should take, the Marshal wasn’t surprised that they did so in their native tongue. He wasn’t able to decipher the meaning of the short exchange, but it was quite clear given the intonation and the facial expressions that the Calerian had a bit more insight in the underground passages then Eagis. So when they moved into the passage that didn’t seem significantly dissimilar to all the other, it was the lead of the footsure Ira that they followed. Even though there was no map in her hands and she didn’t seem to have previous knowledge of the mazelike passages, she still led the way as if she knew exactly which turns they ought to take. To Letho it looked a little bit like taking a shot and hoping for the best, but given the fact that they seemed to be making some progress – keeping a direction that more or less took them further towards the interior of palace – he followed wordlessly, lugging his massive gunblade on his shoulder.

Ira’s lead seemed uncannily impeccable... until they walked right into a trap. The Marshal heard a faint click filtered through the water that reached just to his mid-thigh and his uncanny perception managed to catch a glimpse of the sprung trap. The walls that seemed to be made of solid stone suddenly became perforated with thousand of tiny holes and it was highly unlikely that they would start pouring candy all over them.

“Myri, get down!” he shouted, throwing himself forward and extending an arm that gathered Myrhia and pulled her down. She squalled shortly before both of their bodies dove below the greenish, stale-smelling surface of the water, successfully evading the torrent of bolts that whistled above their heads. They remained underwater for a couple of seconds, Letho calm and composed and the redhead wriggling in his grasp, struggling to get some air. His tackle caught her unprepared and she never had the time to inhale. Luckily for her, the walls stopped spewing deadly arrows in a matter of seconds, so before long she was allowed to jump back to her feet and get some necessary oxygen. She coughed wetly, trying to expel the water she accidentally took in, but despite this inconvenience, she was still luckier then captain Eagis.

Leant against the opposite wall, with a pair of projectiles imbedded in his torso, the gray-haired veteran was done for. Not even Letho and his healing abilities could help him with injuries that would momentarily kill a lesser man. The Marshal moved to the man, took of one of his gauntlets and wrapped his bare hand around Eagis shoulder, squeezing it tightly. There seemed to be no apparent effect, but Letho could see ease in the captain’s eyes, and even surprise that he suddenly felt no pain despite his excruciating wounds. He perished in relative calm and it was the most the dark knight could do for the man at this point.

“Can’t you do something for him, Letho?” Myrhia - who finally managed to normalize her breathing and recover from diving for her life - said, approaching tentatively. The swordsman leant forward, closed the captain’s eyes and shook his head.

“No, he’s gone.”

Letho expected for Brye’s reaction to the death of her superior. However, what he didn’t expect to see was Ira going around the bend all of the sudden. Her eyes observantly peered in front of her as she seemed to have a talk with an empty space, ultimately saying goodbye to Eagis but not looking at the cadaver beside her. Uncertain what caused this dementia and a little peeved with the fact that such a person was leading this chancy endeavor, the Corone Marshal decided to put his foot down.

“Hold on!” he said, stopping the newly appointed captain and surprising Myrhia. “What exactly is going on here? I don’t mind being kept in the dark and following your lead, but you just led us into a trap, Ira. Do you know where you’re going or are just playing a guessing game?”

“She’s a Calerian.” Brye spoke before Ira got a chance to reply. “They can see and hear spirits.”

“Oh, I see. So we’re following someone who’s hearing voices?” Letho said.

“Letho!” Myrhia reprimanded him, her tiny voice echoing in the watery tunnel. “She led us this far. And it’s not like we have a choice other then to follow her.”

Though the swordsman’s face failed to reveal any emotions, the redhead knew there was something brewing behind his brown eyes. Ultimately, he nodded. “Fine. But we’ll play it safe. You and me walk in front...” he said, approaching Ira. “...and Brye and Myrhia follow some ten paces behind. That way the next trap won’t get all of us.”

[Iriah Caitrak]

Scepticism over her abilities was something she was used to hearing. It didn’t make it easier though. What she saw and heard was just as real as what anyone else saw and heard. It wasn’t her fault that someone else did not believe in an afterlife or that the soul even continued to live on after death or that such a thing as seeing them was even possible. Whatever someone else believed, it was possible to see the dead and she was one of the few that could, a few that came in abundance in her tribe. Whether or not the rest of Althanas believed her was not her concern, doing her job as a Calerian was and finishing this mission was.

“I’m sorry about the traps. It’s been so long that I forgot about them, I mean I’ve been wandering around here for so long and none of them ever went off and…”

“It’s alright…do you know where the rest of them are?”

“Yes, there are only a few more, we’ve actually passed by most of them without a problem. I’ll make sure to say something as we get close to them and how to avoid them.”

“Thank you.”

Smiling lightly, the soul of the Priestess once again began leading the way through the tunnels. It was such a strange thing to see her slightly translucent figure disappear into water that went right through her, never touching her or even knowing she was there.

“Whether or not you believe I can see the dead matters not to me, Letho. Keep in mind though; that the dead remember everything from life, especially how they die. Especially when they die fighting a small war with a band of ‘mercenaries’ or, wait, perhaps I should say slavers and three outsiders in an abandoned mine.”

Continuing forward, Ira was occasionally stopped by the Priestess who told the group to keep to one side or the other, the centre, or don’t step on that, jump over that if you can. The usual stuff to avoid being impaled, crushed to death or drowned. None of those sounding very appealing so Ira followed the Priestess to the letter, though the water had receded about two tunnels back leaving them to finally walk upon dry stone. After a good twenty minutes or more—Ira wasn’t sure—and a crap load of passages and turns the Priestess finally lead them to what appeared to be a dead end. The Calerian could just hear Letho’s smart-ass remark about this but before he could say anything the Priestess pointed to one of the stones. It looked no different than any other stone; it didn’t even have a different colour.

“Depress this and the wall will unlock, pushing on it will open it.”

“Where will this take us out?”

The Priestess thought about it a moment as if trying to remember, “This one leads to the Grand Hall.”

Seemed like a good place to come out of.

Taking a deep breath, Ira closed her eyes and concentrated for a moment. Even with her new abilities it was still not very easy to summon her armour in the physical realm, which always amazed her. In Purgatory it automatically covered her body protecting her from whatever may be lurking nearby, yet here in the Physical realm it required great concentration to bring the armour out of it’s hiding. As a sheen of sweat broke on her forehead it finally worked. Ira breathing a sigh of relief as her entire left arm was encased in metal, the armguard on her right forearm acquiring some metal plating, a chest plate covered her, the Irenian Crystal in the centre of it. And her shin guards gaining metal plating as well. A piece of material also came down to cover the lower half of her face, though this was not necessary in the Physical realm she didn’t bother with it.

Nodding her head to the Priestess, Ira pushed against the stone, surprised as it gave in just a little bit a light click resounded through the tunnel. Pushing against the wall with her shoulder, Ira slowly eased the wall open bit by bit. Once it was open enough for her she squeezed through leaving the others to follow behind her. The room she now found herself in was massive, especially considering how tight some of those tunnels had been. But cover was not a problem considering the room was mostly open, the door opened behind one of the large tapestries, easily hiding them from view…for now.

[Letho]

As dubious as he was about Ira’s alleged ability to talk to the departed, Letho had to admit that the uncanny precision of her retort caught him off guard. Scarce were the ones that knew that exactly happened in that abandoned fort several months ago, where the Corone mercenaries that he came to save turned out to be slavers that killed eighty-nine locals. But before Letho had the actual information, he was caught up in the war and forced to either fight on the side of the slavers or forfeit his and Myrhia’s life. And while Ira obviously didn’t know the details of that dastardly clash, she certainly found a chink in the Marshal’s armor. His already frowned face turned deadly serious and grim.

“The dead obviously failed to fully brief you in that matter. I was tricked into that dispute and the stubbornness of your people forced me to fight at that fortress.” Letho said as he walked alongside the bitter Fallien woman that obviously hated his guts. He wasn’t about to butter her up either. “Maybe in your world of the dead everything is black and white, but in the real world everybody is not guilty as charged, regardless of how much you wanted it otherwise.”

“In my world of the dead everything is grey, stuck between the black and the white, in neither Sanctuary or Abyss, or Heaven and Hell as you may know them.” Ira retorted. “I know all about the facade they put on as Mercenaries because my people were sent in to clean up the mess. I had to watch these slavers go to Abyss, screaming all the way and not feeling a single piece of remorse. Though there was one named Col who told me what really happened and how you got dragged into it.”

“Alright, take it easy you two. There’ll be plenty of real foes to fight in the Keep.” Brye said from the other end of the passage, her stern, decisive, captain face exchanging her expression of sorrow over the loss of her leader.

“It’s true though.” Myrhia said to the captain timidly, though her voice easily reached both Ira and Letho in front. “They sent out a distress call, saying they were merchants and mercenaries. And when we came to rescue them, we were attacked and we could do nothing but defend ourselves. Letho didn’t want to kill those people.”

It was a wasted effort, the Marshal thought. Ira was too stubborn, too prejudiced, too set on the facts she knew to be swayed. She acted as if she never made a mistake in her life, holding on to her holier-then-thou behavior and refusing to acknowledge anything else. On the other hand, Brye was too focused at the task at hand, so Myrhia’s words obviously fell to deaf ears.

Luckily, they soon came to the end of their trek through the underground and unluckily for Ira, it was a dead end. Letho already had a rather snide comment on the tip of his tongue, but even as he opened his mouth to utter it, the butt end of Myrhia’s spear struck his chest, her strict face shushing him and allowing the cocky woman to consult her “spirits”. The Marshal waited patiently, still unwilling to let go of his incredulity that didn’t subside even when Ira found a way out, opening the hidden door in the wall. As if that wasn’t enough of a miracle, the woman seemed to concentrate before she moved forward, and what seemed like a set of armor grew around her body. Myrhia’s eyes were wide in awe at this magic and once the metal protection was fully formed, she even touched it with a finger gently.

“H-How did you do that?” she asked in a hushed tone.

“While you’re at it, could you grow about a dozen armed knights as well. I think we could use them.” Letho said with a sarcastic smirk before he made his way through the ajar doors. The divergence in atmosphere was instantaneous once they emerged from the tunnels. The musty, stale smell of the narrow passages was replaced with a faint touch of incense drifting through the fresh air. The high arced windows let in vast amounts of illumination, making the entire hall and all its luxurious ornaments glitter. The polished tiles below seemed so spotless that it made their mud-stained boots almost unwelcome. Bronze and gold statues of heroes of old caught in victorious poses formed a path in the middle of the lofty room. Letho took a peek over the hem of the tapestry, noticed a pair of guards patrolling the premises, then returned to the three women. He summoned Brye closer to him.

“Do you have any idea where Jya might be? Because I don’t think they caught her yet. If they did, they would be long gone.” he whispered. The woman’s eyes went out of focus for a second as she deliberated on the question.

“Either her personal quarters or the armory. Those two places are the easiest to guard. Both have only one point of entry, except her quarters are at the top of the tower, with a balcony looking over Irrakam.” Brye said, her fingers a bit impatient on the hilt of her sword. It was Letho’s time to ponder and calculate.

“The personal quarters. If they fought the invaders, they fought them room for room until they had nowhere else to retreat. You three should make your way to her personal quarters and try to rescue her.” he said, loading fresh shells into his gunblade diligently, careful not to make to clicking sound too loud.

“What about you, Letho?” Myrhia asked.

“I’ll make a big mess down here. It’s a big room, I’ll have plenty of space to maneuver and keep them busy. You three wait until they gang up on me, then make your move up the stairs.” he said, casting another quick glance at the pair of sentries.

“Do you want me to stay with you?” the redhead asked coyly.

The Marshal smiled confidently, playing the Lawmaker on his shoulder nonchalantly. “Nah, I’ll be fine. Just knocking some sense into a bunch of knaves.”

With that said, Letho stepped from behind the tapestry at a rather slow gait, ambling through room leisurely with his boots clicking loudly on the marble floor. The guards started at the sound, but by the time their eyes located the source of the sound, Letho’s gunblade roared. The first bullet struck a bronze statue of a charging rider, tearing off his head. The second bullet tore a hole in a belly of a lofty woman that held a staff decorated with various jewels. The third one turned an ornate vase into dust and jagged debris. The Marshal loaded another bullet into the barrel before stepping closer to the middle of the room. The two guards brandished their curved swords briskly. Two more came from an adjacent ball room. Three crashed through the main door. And at least half-a-dozen came running from the first floor like a herd of wild boars. Letho waited them in the center, seemingly without a worry in his mind.

[Iriah Caitrak]

That was pure madness. She couldn’t believe he was going to take on all of those guards by himself. Was his crazy or just plain suicidal? The Calerian had fought numbers like that on her own, but of Fallen, mindless killing machines that weren’t unlike the undead, they were weak and only dangerous in large numbers. Humans on the other hand were dangerous no matter how many numbers you put them in, especially the trained ones. But then, she paused as she remembered listening to the stories of the fallen Fallien warriors, the slavers and of Col. They all said that Letho had been inhumanly strong and had taken out quite a number of warriors on his own. If that was true—and she never doubted the dead—then they had nothing to worry about for him.

“Brye, do you know where the personal quarters are from here?”

Brye nodded her head, “We have to get out those main doors, the stairs leading up should be…uhh, they should be directly to the right of that.”

“You don’t sound too confident.”

“Well, they don’t exactly hand out maps of The Keep for you to memorize.”

Ira chuckled softly, “Ready Myrhia?”

The redhead nodded. She was brandishing a spear and Ira just hoped the woman knew how to use it, though she doubted she would have come all this way if she didn’t have some kind of battle expertise.

Watching from the shadows of the tapestries as all the attackers circled around Letho, the Calerian took a deep breath and waited. Her heart wanted to beat faster within the confines of her chest but she didn’t let it. Adrenaline was already pumping through her veins in anticipation of what was to come but she couldn’t move yet, not until all the attackers had their focus solely on Letho and were in the middle of fighting him. It didn’t take long and soon the middle of the room became nothing more than a blur of arms, swords and bodies in the macabre dance of life and death.

“Let’s go!”

Keeping to the walls of the room and slinking in and out of tapestries the whole time, Ira ran, leading the others to the main door. It was easy, easier than she thought anyway. All the attackers were so focused on Letho that they never even noticed them, that was until they exited the door and found that there were three of them standing outside, backup she assumed. Well, no time for them to alert more to their presence. Quickly Ira formed two short staves, each one around three feet long and one for each hand. Quickly, she took out the nearest guard to her. He attempted to draw his sword but she cracked the staff against his arm, pinning it to his side, then hit him hard across the temple and he was out like a light. Brye—though the Calerian could tell wanted a real fight—disposed of the man quickly as needed. Metal never even got to clang against metal, these guards were totally unprepared and Brye’s sword slipped easily through a chink in armour, piercing into his chest.

He fell to the ground dead, but Ira turned her head away from the appearance of his soul, she didn’t want to see it. The redhead had also disposed of the last one quickly and efficiently, though in a manner Ira could relate to more. It seemed she was no fond of killing either and had elected to use the but end of the spear to knock some sense into the guard, after knocking him out that is.

Sensing souls from both this room and the room Letho was in, Ira ignored it. She couldn’t do anything right now and frankly she wasn’t sure if she wanted to help these bastards. But then again, she knew in the end she would have to. No matter what they did in life they deserved to go wherever their choices deemed them worthy and she had a feeling the majority of them would be heading straight for Abyss.

Nodding her head to the others and turning right, the Calerian racing down the hallway as quietly as she could. Her boots didn’t make much noise of the polished floors and she figured if anyone else had been in the vicinity they would have heard the battle with Letho and come running to help. They were probably free of more guards until they got to the floor with Jya on it.

At the end of the hall Ira turned right again and spotted the stairs leading up to the tower and to Jya’s personal quarters. There were no guards here protecting the entrance, but then again, why would they need them? Her heart beating wildly in her chest, Ira took the stairs as fast as she could, wishing next time she came to save someone that they didn’t get themselves trapped in a tower with a million stairs leading up to their room. Perhaps the basement, or the first floor would be nice. Less travelling.

“So how do you do that?”

Ira raised a brow and glanced back at Myrhia, who’d spoken the breathless words, “Do what?”

“Form armour and weapons out of thin air.”

“The Serena Crystal.” Ira turned her arm while she spoke so Myrhia could see the crystal embedded on the underside of the armguard, “You take energy from the crystal and turn it into solid matter, the only downside is if you drop the weapon it will disappear after a second or two without living contact, which technically isn’t a downside since attacking souls won’t be able to use my own weapons against me.”

“You get attacked by souls?”

Ira really didn’t think this was the time to be answering the woman’s questions but heck; they still had a few more flights to go, so why not, “I cleanse Purgatory of Fallen, souls who have been corrupted. From what I’ve seen of Althanas, they’re not much different than the undead, only you can’t see them and you can’t hurt them. Imagine being attacked by something you can see, hear, touch or protect yourself against. Only weapons formed by the Serena Crystal can harm a Fallen,” That wasn’t entirely true, she’d watched Storm Veritas kill one with his lightning magic but that was a complication she didn’t want to get into right now.

“What do the other crystals around your neck do?”

“Another time…”

Ira slowed down as she saw the top of the stairs. Her heart was trying to burst free from the confines of her ribcage and she was sorely out of breath, so were Myrhia and Brye. Giving themselves a few minutes to recoup form that long trek, Ira slowly eased her way up the flight of stairs with Brye and Myrhia behind her. As she head crested the last step she was able to see a short hallway leading to two double doors. There was about twenty guards or more trying to break through the doors with no luck. It looked like Jya had put up some kind of magical barrier around them and they had yet to break through it, the only thing was she couldn’t keep that up forever and she’d already been doing it for quite a few hours. She was going to get weak soon.

Nodding her head to the others, Ira led the charge against the group of twenty. So intent they were on trying to break through the barrier they didn’t even realize they were under attack until the first sound of battle ensued, and even then, that was Ira dropping the closest attackers to her with a quick crack to the back of his head. Brye jumped right into the battle with a vengeance; she took down two attackers before they even had a chance to pull their swords leaving the Calerian glad she was on the same side with this woman. Brye was the only one killing the attackers though. Myrhia and Ira were both knocking them out, neither of them comfortable with the thought of killing another person. Let Jya deal out their punishment once they save her, Ira was no executioner, the people she fought would live for now. In the midst of battle she wondered at why Myrhia didn't kill them and wondered if the scrawny little woman had ever killed anyone before, but those thoughts were better left for later when her life didn't hang in the balance.


(I’ll do what we have planned in my next post; you just have fun killing those guards.)

[Letho]

“I am Letho Ravenheart, Marshal of the Corone Rangers, and you are all under arrest!” Letho’s voice resounded through the luxurious hall, bouncing off the marble columns and marvelous frescos that depicted an ancient field of battle on the left and what seemed like an angered deity spewing apocalypse on the right. Standing on a soft, emerald carpet that seemed to have various motifs weaved into it with silvery threads, he suddenly became the eye of the storm of figures. There were about a dozen of static ones, the statues of the Fallien heroes of old providing the soundless audience for the more mobile warriors that were about to clash. The soldiers that started to form a full circle around the dark knight were obviously not local, their faces too pale, their hair not nearly dry enough for somebody who lived in the sandy environment. And yet, they all wore traditional uniforms of the Keep guards, a disguise that could confuse a rather casual observer that would skim over their authoritative figure. For keen, perceptive eyes, it was clear that the plain-looking men below the studded leather armors and light helmets were Coronian.

Half of the assembly regarded the spoken words with a shift in their facial expressions, cocky confidence effaced once the name of the famous Marshal finished echoing and only the leathery sound of creaking armors could be heard. Letho was satisfied with this. Disheartening an opponent was half the victory. After all, it was the morale that usually won the day, not the numbers or the strategy. “Gentlemen, we can do this easy, or we can do it real easy.” the bulky swordsman added, his eyes fleetly jumping from one soldier to the other, his stance changing minutely with each move his foes did. To emphasize just how easy would the entire ordeal be if they decided to fight him, Letho pulled out his grand adamantine sword, holding it in his offhand.

The intimidation seemed to be working. Two more faces transformed from the self-assured visage to a rather unsettled one, the fingers on the sword hilts becoming a bit sweaty, a bit reluctant to move the blade in order to attack. He would’ve succeeded in winning this on reputation alone if the massive double front door didn’t open once again, letting in a man clad in a completely black armor that clearly distinguished itself from the rest. The guard who wore the benighted uniform was almost a giant, nearly a foot taller then Letho and wielding a double axe sopped with fresh blood. “What the fuck are you waiting for? You know the orders! No pulling back!!!”

Without further deliberation, the sentry who was obviously the captain of the bunch came charging at the Marshal, growling and holding his axe at the ready, his blonde hair greasy from the sweat and streaked with bloody crimson. Letho brought his gunblade up, took aim, then started to think and opted against firing. This man could have some valuable information and he needed some clue on what the Coalition really was. So when the man came at him, swiping the axe in a horizontal arc, the Marshal parried with the six foot Lawmaker, stopping the weapon with a sound clang of the colliding metals. His left brought the bastard sword down at the shaft of the axe, the blade hitting it with the flat side and knocking it out of the hand of the aspiring captain. The gunblade moved again, but instead of going for the kill with the edge, Letho struck the captain with the dull side of the blade, hitting his temple and conking him effectively.

After that, the lofty hall was swallowed by the mayhem that was standing on the brink ever since the Corone Marshal stepped into the room.

Inspired by the orders of their leader – or rather, in fear of them – the soliders moved almost in unison. However, the almost part was more then enough for Letho. His bestial reflexes caught every movement of the weapons, every step made, every opening in the unhinged attacks and his brain calculated the way it always did. And then he made his move. The Lawmaker made a backhanded sweep, parrying four blades that came from behind and pushing them sideways. Using the momentum of his twisted torso, Letho’s left brought the adamantine bastard sword as a follow up, cutting through a throat of one solider and cleaving off an arm of another. The green carpet went almost black as it accumulated the spilled blood. And there was plenty more to follow.

Instead of making a move out of the circle as every sound tactician would, the Marshal didn’t make a run for safer grounds. Instead, he ducked below the blades that once again came from behind, sweeping the ground with his extended leg. What the sweep of his leg didn’t knock over, his gunblade follow up did as the tawny blade followed in a horizontal arc that sliced at the knees of the advancing men. Two men lost their legs right there, the third one getting away with a shattered knee cap as he limped away with his leg barely attached and spurting one jet of thick crimson after the other. Those that didn’t have their throats slithered screamed, those that did gurgled and coughed wetly as they collapsed around Letho.

They scattered a little bit now, stunned by the nimbleness of the Marshal and that was their biggest mistake of the day. The veteran brain that saw many a battle did its calculation again, giving each man a tag with a number in sequence from one to ten. The first came from the flank, swinging his blade in an ogre-like overhead attack, making Letho sidestep and slash through his gut with his offhand. The second tried a swift jab from behind, but the clicking of the boots on the polished tiles revealed his intention, making the Marshal spin spryly and away from the strike before the Lawmaker decapitated the man. The third stumbled over a fallen corpse and impaled himself on his own blade, sparing Letho the effort. The fourth tried to do some damage from the distance, throwing his short sword at his would-be executor who parried the projectile cleanly with his gunblade, then lined up the muzzle and covered the expensive fresco with the man’s entrails. The fifth, sixth and seventh grew a brain and tried to move in sync, but all they really did was line up for the slaying. The Marshal parried the left man with his right weapon, the right man with his left and then firing a roundhouse kick that snapped the middle man’s neck, creating an empty spot through which Letho advanced, slashing sideways with both of his blades, cutting the two men in half at the waist. The eighth and ninth came from both flanks, both firing a pair of thrusts. The dark knight dropped both of his blades, taking a quick step backwards and snatching the wrists of both men with both of his hands only to lead them to each other’s gut. The tenth made a run for his life. Letho’s foot maneuvered below the Lawmaker that lay in a crimson pool blow, jerked the massive weapon up to the Marshal’s arm, allowing him to take aim and gun down the guard before he reached the door.

It was done. The Great Hall once again sunk into silence and Letho smirked unctuously. He was made for this.

[Iriah Caitrak]

Things were looking good. The attackers were trained and knew how to fight but Brye, Myrhia and Ira knew how to fight better and it was quickly becoming apparent who was going to win this match even greatly outnumbered. The more that came at the three the more they knocked down but that wasn’t to say they were coming away unharmed. By the time they’d taken out seven of the guards leaving thirteen, Ira was bleeding from a wound in her upper arm and her thigh. Neither were very serious, just annoying stings every time she moved. Brye was fairing a little better having a bit more armour to cover her but she was bleeding too and Myrhia had quite a few scraps on her as well but the fiery little redhead didn’t look like she was about to slow down.

Ira ducked down under the swing of some faceless guards attack, planting her hands on the ground she kicked out at his legs sending him sprawling onto his back. Then with another quick movement she cracked him upside the head with her staff. His eyes went blank then closed as he went off to la-la land. A much better place than where the Jya was probably going to send him after they got her out of this sticky situation.

As Ira stood up from taking out that guard another one came at her from behind, making a quick attack for her back. His blade bit into flesh then hit armour and could go no further. Growling, Ira whipped around and struck the man hard in the wrist hearing the crack of the fragile bones within. Then she hit him once, twice, three times across the face before finally hitting him in the temple and knocking him out. Coward couldn’t even attack her from the front he had to do so from behind. She couldn’t tell how serious the wound was, she’d have to ignore it for now and hope for the best. It would be nothing more than a nuisance, unless of course she bled to death or passed out. Then it would be a serious problem but that was not something she could deal with right now, especially when she was about to engage another attacker.

Blocking his sword with both of her staves, Ira feigned his strength being greater than hers to bring him in closer to her body so she could land a knee into his gut. The man coughed and doubled over, so she landed another one and felt the strength in his arms slacken. Pushing his sword away she brought both of her staves down on either side of his head, knocking him right out.
“Ira!”

The Calerian turned and glanced at the other woman who was engaged with fighting three of the attackers at once. Following the warrior’s line of sight, Ira saw what she was looking at and cursed, then realized Myrhia was close by.

“Myrhia!”

Moving as fast as her feet could carry her, Ira ran over to Myrhia. Halfway there an explosion rocked through the small hallway, sending Ira flying back against the nearest wall, cracking her back and head against the stone. Everything went black, she never even felt herself hit the ground.


* * * * * *

Consciousness was a slow thing to regain. Every part of her body was hurting and she couldn’t remember why. Her ears were ringing and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to open her eyes and see just what was going on around her. If only she could remember why she felt like shit and why her head was throbbing so much. Cracking her eyes open slowly, the first thing Ira noticed was the pieces of stone, large and small littering the floor. It took her abused brain a minute to realize where she was and what she’d been doing and just why there was broken stone everywhere. Once that happened she sprang up into a sitting position only to nearly pass out again with the rush of blood leaving her head. Clucking at the sides of her temples, Ira looked around her. There were bodies all over the floor; apparently blowing up the wall into Jya’s room hadn’t been a good idea for anyone.

Stumbling to her feet, Ira looked around for Myrhia and Brye then realized there was a gaping hole into Jya’s quarters and that Brye was fighting two guards in a last ditch effort to protect Jya. But Ira couldn’t see Jya or Myrhia. Shaking the fuzziness from her head, Ira formed the two short staves in her hands again. She could barely think straight and was about to run into battle but what other option did she have? Brye looked like she was in no better condition and was hanging on by a thin thread, she had to do something. Running over, Ira blocked a blade that was going for Brye’s open back. The attacker grinned at her but Ira did not return the facial movement, instead she went straight for his gut, the butt end of her weapon punching against the leather. The man stumbled a bit and Ira took the opportunity to knock the sword from his head and crack him in the face and then in the temple.

Brye did not fair so well. Turing around to help the woman, Ira was just in time to see her block one attack only to have the man pulled out a small dagger and plunge it straight through a space in her leather armour and into her stomach. The woman stumbled back, a look of both surprise and pain on her face. The attacker on the other hand seemed quite happy with his accomplishment. But while he was distracted with Brye, Ira knocked some sense into him, or out of him, either way it didn’t matter. Catching the woman as she went down, Ira gently eased her to the floor. She didn’t know how bad the wound would be but the colour was already leaving Brye’s face.

“Forget it, save Jya, I don’t know what happened to her after the explosion.”

Though she didn’t want to leave Brye, Ira nodded her head and walked into the large expanse that was Jya’s person quarters. A bed, some dressers, an overturned table, and four unconscious Priestesses. She didn’t think they were dead but they looked injured, no attackers and no Jya. That was when she noticed the balcony close to where the explosion had rocked through the wall. It looked like it had suffered quite some damage as well. Running over to it Ira found Jya hanging on for her life at one end and Myrhia at the other.

“Save the girl!”

Myrhia looked like she couldn’t hold on anymore and just to emphasize that point one of her hands slid off the stone only to be quickly replaced. Caught in the middle of wanting to save them both and save Jya above all else, she was her country’s leader for crying out loud; Ira didn’t really know what to do. But she didn’t get long to ponder the question because Jya let go of the stone floor and Ira quickly ran over to Myrhia, sliding down onto her stomach as she went she grabbed Myrhia’s wrist just as the tiny woman lost her grip. Using what little strength she had left Ira began to hoist Myrhia up. She didn’t weigh much but there wasn’t much strength left in Ira after fighting off numerous attackers, being stabbed in the back and then being thrown against a wall, hard. It took her about a minute but eventually she got Myrhia up onto the stable ledge of the balcony. The tiny woman hugged Ira, crying. Feeling a little uncomfortable, Ira lightly hugged her back.

“Do you think she’s dead?” Myrhia asked, “I didn’t want for her to choose me over herself, I didn’t, but she just let go.”

Doing the one thing she didn’t want to, Ira extended her senses and searched for the signature of a soul. The only problem was there were a number of them in the chamber behind her and in some place floors beneath her, which she guessed was the room Letho had been battling in. But she didn’t sense any soul on the outside of the building, which didn’t mean anything.

“I don’t think so…” She couldn’t be certain but she trusted her instincts and right now they were saying Jya was not dead, “C’mon…”

Slowly Ira stood up, bringing the shaking Myrhia to her feet with her. She lent heavily against her, favouring one leg and when Ira glanced down she could see why. There was a long gash on her thigh and what even looked like pieces of stone stuck deep in the wound. Probably from the explosion. Keeping her afoot, Ira took the two of them back over to where she’d left Brye leaning against a wall.

“Brye, I—Brye?”

Ira let go of Myrhia and walked over to Brye, then fell down on one knee in front of the woman. Lifting a hand she brought it up to Brye’s face and closed the woman’s lifeless eyes.

“So what’s it like on the other side?”

Ira stood up and looked over at the soul of Brye, casually leaning against the wall, “I don’t know, never been there myself.” They both smiled at one another.

“I guess this is goodbye then.”

“For now, you’ll see me again someday, I don’t plan on living forever.” Ira reached out and rested a hand on the woman’s shoulder. Though she looked translucent to a Calerian she had some substance. From behind her she heard Myrhia gasp, her eyes wide as she stared at the soul Brye as if she could see her.

“B-Brye.”

Ira raised a brow, “You can see her?”

“W-When you touched her…yes.”

Ira let go of Brye and watched as Myrhia shook her head then she placed her hand back on Brye’s shoulder and Myrhia nodded, still wide-eyed, slack jawed and disbelieving. So that explained a lot of things.

“Tell Eagis I say hi.”

Brye nodded and smiled then disappeared in a flash of light leaving a black and red butterfly there for a second before that too disappeared.

“C’mon Myrhia, let’s go find your husband and see what happened to Jya…”

Myrhia nodded her head still staring at the space that Brye’s soul had occupied. Wrapping her an arm under Myrhia’s arm and around her back she helped support the woman as they made their way down the long flight of stairs. She definitely wanted the next person she saved to be trapped on the first floor, not the top room of some tower.

[Letho]

Letho wasted no time on mourning the dead or deliberating on the sense of guilt for their demise. They were all warriors and all except the last yellowbellied grunt died in a manner appropriate for their profession. It was a proud death, dare he say a good death even though Myrhia always strictly reprimanded him by saying that there is nothing good about death. The Marshal neither agreed nor disagreed. Death was an essential part of life, it awaited each and every person in due time and the only choice you ultimately had was either to meet it on your feet or on your knees. So while he didn’t hate the soldiers that were now nothing but cadavers whose bodily fluids oozed onto the expensive tiling, he didn’t feel bad about sending them to meet their maker. He respected them for the courage and that was why there was nothing but a solemn expression on his face once nothing else moved on the hall floor.

Holstering both of his weapons – still coated with blood of the fallen – in the proper sheaths on his back, Letho strode under the empty gaze of the statues and towards the flight of stairs that led to the upper levels. However, even as he reached what seemed like midway on the winding stairs that led towards the peak of the tower, a tremendous boom descended from above, reverberating though the empty, stone halls of the Jya’s Keep. “Myrhia.” was the only thought that flashed through his mind, inciting him to get up double time. But even as he set his foot on the marble step, there was such a strong pull in his mind that he actually felt that the gravity was shifting and ushering him in a different direction. On top of that, he felt a presence in his head, as if suddenly there was another train of thought there, another being that had a pair of arms that tugged him away from the stairs and a voice that whispered.

“Second door on the left. Get to the balcony, Letho Ravenheart.” the voice said, serene and soft, almost a whisper of a lover. The Marshal brushed it away with a shake of his head. Whatever witchcraft somebody was attempting, it wasn’t going to work... “The balcony, Marshal. NOW!” the female entity in his mind said, this time more sternly, amplifying the force that pulled him towards the mentioned door. Once again he tried to defy it, but the voice in his head started to whisper in an incomprehensible tongue, soothing words that assured him of the benevolence of the owner. Letho nodded his head in compliance, scudding towards the door and exiting onto the balcony.

The first thing he could see was an assortment of stone debris spread over the balcony. Beyond the banister, the city of Irrakam unfolded like a painting, several charcoaled sites that remained from the yesterday’s fires clearly visible from such an elevated position. But the bulky swordsman wasn’t admiring the view. His eyes followed the lean tower to the very top where a pair of figures hung dangerously from the ledge. The left one he couldn’t recognize but given the opulence of her clothes that fluttered in the mild wind, he could assume it was one of Jya’s priestess. But on the right was somebody much more important to Letho, a scrawny little female dressed in a scarlet skirt and a shirt of matching color. The Marshal’s brow furrowed even deeper. If either of them fell, he could catch them, but if both fell he would have to choose. And he was pretty sure he would make the same choice as he did in the fires.

Fortunately for him, he was never given a chance to opt for either of the two. The unknown woman on the left lost her grip on the jagged ledge that was over fifty feet above Letho, her body freefalling with a clear intention to splatter itself in the middle of the scattered rubble. The Marshal had just enough time to get himself in the proper position and outstretch his arms before the woman landed in his grasp. Despite his remarkable strength, the impact was still surprising and forceful, making him drop to one knee, but his arms amortized the impact efficiently, stopping the woman before she touched the ground.

“Well, that was definitely a nice...” Jya tried to say, her breathing still rather quick from the exertion and the shocking descent. But Letho cut her short, pushing her up to her feet rather rudely and with no consideration to her title.

“Yeah, don’t mention it, lady. Are you going to be alright?” he said, obviously paying little heed to the sizzling, raven-haired woman that he just saved, his eyes once again fleeing to the balcony above. Myrhia seemed to be struggling for a while longer, but then a hand pulled her back over the ledge. “I need to go.”

“Myrhia will be alright, Marshal Ravenheart.” the black-haired woman said cordially, offering a mild smile as she dusted off her clothes. Letho, surprised by the fact that she knew his name, shot her with a keen glance.

“How do you know that? Who are you?” he asked.

“I am Ishtael D’alruniun, The Jya.” she replied, her smile still on as her penetrating azure eyes studied her formidable savior. “And I thank you for your intervention.”

“My lady.” Letho said, bowing his head but not taking a knee for the Queen of Fallien. He was a son of a king with royal blood flowing through his veins. He was her peer and peers didn’t kneel in front of each other. “My apologies. I didn’t know.” and then, after his mind processed the tone of her voice, he added. “It was you, just now, telling me to get out on the balcony.”

“Indeed. You are a tough one to sway, Letho Ravenheart. But I assure you, Myrhianna and Ira are alive. In fact, I think they’re coming down right now. Come on, let’s meet them.” Jya said, leading the way back in. Letho scurried in order to take point.

“My lady, there might be more intruders abound.” he said, but the voluptuous woman merely smirked and continued through the door.

“I can’t sense any. Alikam took care of the infidels at the gates. All of this is my fault. My priestesses and I were so focused on studying a batch of magic scrolls that I didn’t sense the ruse.” she continued, her tone doleful and sincerely compassionate. “Their identity and intentions are still unclear to me. Perhaps you could shed some light on that.”

Letho probably would, but they were inside now and descending down the stairs came something that was more important then politics and secret organizations. “I left their captain alive down in the Great Hall.” he said, suddenly uninterested in the conversation as he moved away from Jya. “Maybe we can get some information out of him. Now, if you would excuse me, my lady.”

He didn’t wait for the permission to be excused, running up the stairs and towards Myrhia whose miserable, grimy face managed to break in a smile at the sight of him. He embraced her, relinquishing her from Ira’s supportive hug and just held her clothes. “I lost my spear, Letho. And I got hurt again.” she said in a timid, apologetic tone. “Ira saved me from falling.”

The Marshal didn’t respond, only held her close with the relieving sensation sweeping through his body. His worry always piqued when she was not at his side, and that went double when there was some fighting involved. But she made it through and all thanks to a rather unexpected savior. Letho looked at Ira with a grateful glance, still holding Myrhia in his embrace.

“Thank you.”

[Iriah Caitrak]

Ira gave a small, sad smile as she watched Letho embrace Myrhia as if his whole world depended on her and her alone. That was it, nothing else mattered to him just her and if anything ever happened to her, well, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. It made her a little wistful, wishing she knew what could provoke such an emotion. She protected people because well, it was her job. And not only that but she just felt a need to protect those that couldn’t protect themselves, especially against the kinds of things she fought on an almost daily basis. If only she had someone like that waiting around for her and holding her as if she meant everything to them. She now understood why Letho had braved the flames to go save Myrhia; if he hadn’t and she’d died he probably wouldn’t be able to live with himself. It didn’t make the fact that she’d lost her best friend any easier to stomach; it just gave reason to a death that shouldn’t have happened.

Blushing slightly with a bit of embarrassment, Ira nodded to Letho and moved away from them.

“Ira.”

Ira turned and smiled at Jya. This was the first time she’d ever met the woman, the leader of the country she called home. She was very pretty, dark skinned like all Fallien natives, shorter than Ira, which was not surprising considering most men in Fallien were shorter if not just her height. Unless of course they came from her tribe, everyone grew tall there. She had long raven black hair, which was something Ira was not exactly used to seeing and she wore very flowing, ornate clothing that tended to cling to her curves. She was beautiful and pretty much everything she expected.

“Jya.” Ira smiled wearily at the woman, she was tired, sore, beaten and about ready to collapse somewhere and not move for about three days. Inclining her head was the only courtesy she could give the leader of her country right now, “I’d bow but I might not get up afterwards.”

A smile broke on the woman’s face and she laughed and Ira found herself genuinely smiling back. She hadn’t meant it to be funny, but being the leader of a nation most people probably stammered or got nervous around her. She was just too tired to do any of that. She wasn’t about to let it show though.

“There are three priestesses in your chamber, alive and unconscious. There are also multiple guards up there that were not killed, the body of Captain Brye is up there as well, please—”

“Do not worry, she will be dealt with in the utmost respect. But please, relax, you may not be showing it but I know you’re exhausted. And the dead are not going anywhere.”

The smile slowly left Ira’s face at that comment. The dead were supposed to go somewhere, out of this plane and into the next plane of existence, Sanctuary or Abyss, whichever was chosen for them by their actions committed in life. But it was true; some of the dead had not moved on and were still lingering around. She would have to deal with them and soon, before they were dragged into Purgatory and became a real problem. Sometimes that took days, weeks or even years. Other times it could happen in a matter of hours, that was why Calerian’s made a point to release any soul they came across, even troubled ones who didn’t want to leave. They had to, for their own sake and for the sake of others.

“I didn’t mean it…”

“It’s alright, you’re not a Calerian. Though Jya you may be, you cannot sense the dead.”

The woman smirked slightly, “That is very true. What happened to Captain Eagis?”

“He didn’t make it through the tunnels…”

“I see…” Jya nodded her head slowly, “I’m sorry to have dragged you all into this but I am very grateful for what you have done. If you hadn’t of showed up things would have gone very different and I hate to think of what might have happened.”

“Hmm…”

Receiving thanks for what she did was not something Ira was entirely used to. Working with the dead was pretty thankless, especially when they were trying to kill you all the time. They tended not to say thanks to her in any manner; they usually just tried to rip her heart out.

“Come…”

Jya began to lead the way off the staircase and Ira followed, Letho and Myrhia following behind her. The first thing Jya did was open the front door, with the help of Ira and let in Alikam and those that survived from his group. It looked like the majority of them had made it. From what she guessed it seemed as if only five were missing and they could have been sent back to their headquarters wounded.

“Jya! You’re safe!”

Alikam jogged over to Jya and fell down on one knee in front of her.

“Captain Alikam,” The man seemed startled for a moment, his entire body going stiff, but other than that he gave no indication that what she said bothered him, “On the top floor of the tower are the bodies of three unconscious priestesses, please take them to any room on the lower level and I’ll have someone attend their injuries. There are also unconscious and dead men up there, those that attacked us, I think you know what to do with them. You will find…Brye’s body as well.”

“Captain Eagis?”

Though it seemed a little cold, Ira understood Jya as a leader and that sometimes emotion was not the best thing to show, “His body is within the tunnels, I shall have my priestesses retrieve him.”

Captain Alikam rose and for a moment did nothing but look beyond Jya and at Ira. There was nothing she could say to the man and words of comfort were never forthcoming from her mouth. She just hoped her eyes betrayed how sorry she was for both of their losses. She wished she’d been able to do something to help either of them but her abilities were of no help to the living in that regard. They could not save you, they could not heal you, there really wasn’t much of anything they could do besides make her better at fighting. Alikam’s eyes left hers and he turned to the men behind him, spouting off orders in Fallien to retrieve bodies, dump those alive in the dungeons and put the priestesses somewhere safe. He gave special orders for Brye’s body to be taken back to their headquarters where it could be prepared for rites and then the eventual burning. The rites were supposed to help ease the dead into the afterlife, but Ira knew that by that time the souls were usually long gone and if not there was nothing a ritual could help them with.

With those orders being carried out, Jya led the group from the main hallway back to the large ballroom that they’d exited the tunnels into. The ground was littered with the bodies of the attackers Letho had easily disposed of and towards the centre mass of it all laid one extremely large man who was still breathing. As everyone gathered into the room, Ira watched as the man slowly began to ease his way back into reality from whatever dream world he’d found himself in. Alikam quickly ran over and restrained him before he even remembered where or who he was. It took him a moment, but Ira could see when his eyes fully focused on his surroundings and realization dawned within his mind. He struggled against Alikam and though larger than the man he was weakened and didn’t seem to be gaining any ground.

“You think you’ve won,” He spat the words at them, as if the fact that he was being held down and was now their prisoner meant nothing, "next time the Coalition will not fail! The next mission will succeed and there is nothing you can do about it!”

With a sick, twisted grin on his face, the man threw Alikam off him and before Ira could react pulled out a small dagger from around his waist and plunged it into his heart. He died instantly, his lifeless body falling to the ground with a sickening thud. His soul was ripped from the lifeless corpse. He looked from his body to Jya and then to each of them. His eyes calculating as if he were thinking that in this state he could do something. Narrowing her eyes, Ira formed her Naginata in her hand and calmly walked over to the body. Alikam gave her a confused look but she didn’t care to explain. With one quick motion the blade cut through the soul of the man, piercing into the darkness where his heart lay when he was alive. Instead of instantaneously disappearing into the light, a look of pain crept over his face as the shadows around the room began to lengthen and slowly move towards him. They dropped down from the ceiling like slime covering his body, slowly melting his ethereal skin from his bones. Ira turned her head from the sight and tried to ignore the screaming. The knowledge that he was going to Abyss made little difference to her. She wouldn’t care either way but watching someone’s soul being stripped and thrown into such a place was not something she enjoyed, no matter what they had done.

[Letho]

The Coalition. Every time it was just a rumor, just a name with no tangible details, just a whisper as fragile as a dandelion puff. Every time Letho started to think that the existence of this alleged organization was nothing but a pile of horseshit, something like this would happen, placing the Coalition in the middle of an aftermath. It happened in Haidia, when supposedly this mysterious name was connected to the insurrection that they supposedly funded. And it was mentioned now as the force behind the attempted assassination of Jya. All the Marshal actually did was picking up the pieces, clues and fragments of information and hearsay that led nowhere and revealed nothing. They were too careful, too cautious not to get closely involved, too calculated in this game of hide and seek in which he once again had to admit a loss. The only source of information he had stabbed himself in the heart, preferring suicide over giving some information. Letho was certain that the rest of the grunts were left in the dark, left on the need-to-know basis, because that’s how the Coalition worked. Clean, with no strings attached.

“What is this Coalition that he spoke of?” Jya asked, clearly not astonished by the suicide but genuinely intrigued by the information. Alikam drew a blank as did everybody present. Everybody except Letho.

“The information the Corone Government has on them is scarce, my lady. I would be willing to disclose it to you, but it is for your ears only.” the Marshal said, his voice stern and regal, making the Fallien queen turn abruptly and fire a slightly frowned glance towards where Letho and Myrhia stood hand in hand. Jya knew that Letho was here on official business, but the fact that he had some information on whoever was the puppeteer behind both the fires and the infiltration was surprising even for her divine wisdom.

“Very well. We will discuss this in my personal study immediately. My priestesses will take care of Myrhia and her wounds.” the black-haired ruler said, her softness giving way to business-like strictness as she led the way out of the room at a determinate gait.

***

Despite the utter shortage of data regarding the Coalition, the conversation with Jya lasted for nearly two hours during which Letho was reminded just how tedious the position of a governor of a country really was. He was a prince once and he should’ve been prepared for all the politicking and behind-the-stage games and secret alliances and whatnot, but those days seemed like they happened in another life. He exchanged information with the Fallien queen and did his best to assure her that, even though the Coalition probably had roots in Corone, it had nothing to do with the official government and its policy towards Fallien. And suddenly, instead of the simple job of a Corone Marshal, he became an ambassador, soliciting the majestic woman and assuring her that Corone law enforcement is doing everything that they could to apprehend these evildoers.

He probably did a decent job at it too since in return Jya assured him that, while the attack was a serious infraction, there would be no bad blood between Fallien and Corone... yet. However, if the Coalition continued with their terrorist acts on Fallien soil and the Corone Government did nothing to prevent or stop it, there would be some serious repercussions. This and a lot more was penned on the ten furled parchments with Jya’s personal seal that he was to hand over to The Assembly, the highest governing body of Corone.

Though the discussion was concluded with this act, the official business was not. Letho, Myrhia, Ira and Alikam were all made honorary guests on the celebration that was to take place that evening. All four were given personal quarters in the Keep along with about a dozen servants that catered to their every desire, preparing baths, bringing wads of clothes for them to try out for the night’s festivities. Letho knew that it ultimately had little to do with celebrating. Jya had to show that Fallien wasn’t shaken by this incident, that they were still strong enough to take the blow and keep on going as usual. Because as amicable as all the other nations were, there were always those that sniffed around like predators, waiting for the slightest sign of weakness. And Jya was wise enough to make it clear that Fallien was up and running as usual.

So that night the quartet of heroes that proved themselves most courageous during the entire ordeal was granted the honor to join Jya at her table, in the vast ball room of the majestic Keep. All signs of battle were diligently removed, the tainted green carpet replaced with a scarlet one, the destroyed statues removed and the remaining ones reshuffled to give out an impression that nothing was amiss. Hundreds of members of local royalty swarmed the room, all pressed and dressed and swaying in sync with the tune a large band of musicians played. Tables laden with enough food to feed a legion were set near the walls, leaving a large open space in the middle for the folk that found enough mirth to give in to dancing and celebrating the victory over the insurgents.

Jya’s table was separated from the rest, elevated several steps and twice as rich as the rest. Honeyed and seasoned meat glistened with grease on the plates made out of remarkable Fallien glass, exotic fruits and fresh vegetables decorating the main courses daintily, and finest wine circling the table with the servants that were happy to oblige and refill the cups. The suite that sat behind these delicacies failed to deviate from the opulence of the entire scene.

Jya sat in the middle, on a chair that looked like a smaller version of a throne made out of some sort of polished crystal, clad in a purple dress that cascaded down her curves, clinging to her body. To her left, Ira and Alikam were seated. To her right, Myrhia seemed utterly lost in all this grandiloquence. The redhead loved socializing with people and making new acquaintances, but her modest demeanor was just overwhelmed by all of this. So she kept shyly to herself, nibbling on the food cautiously so as not to embarrass herself by the lack of manners. Her attire was an empyrean one, a silky rosy-colored evening gown ornamented with Kiramaini glass fragments that glittered in a myriad of colors, somehow managing to make her scrawny, almost unwomanly body look genuinely gorgeous. Besides that marvelous dress, Jya gifted Myrhia with another that remained in the redhead’s quarters, a spotless, pearly-white gown. When Myrhia asked Jya why was she giving her another dress, the Fallien queen just smiled as if she knew something Myrhia didn’t.

Next to the diminutive ex-slave, Letho was sitting in all his glory. For his service to the Fallien, he was given a ceremonial full armor plate made out of Cillu glass. The swordsman was initially suspicious about the armor that seemed way too light to be efficient in combat, but he was assured that Cillu glass was as hard as mythril. The armor was consisted of an ornate breastplate made out of small glass scales, a pair of pauldrons, greaves, combat boots and a helmet – the latter two were left in his quarters for convenience sakes. Swung over his right shoulder and clasped in front of his neck with a clasp that looked like a large ruby was a cape with an image of a phoenix weaved into it by silvery threads. His entire attire was colored in a scarlet hue, an appropriate color for somebody who spilled so much blood.

[Iriah Caitrak]

Being kept in the dark was not something Ira was used to. It greatly disturbed her as well, since this Coalition had caused the death of her best friend. It was a chain of events, choices once again. If they hadn’t started the fires then Ira, Messia and Uri would never had been trapped with those other citizen’s, Letho would have never been forced to save Myrhia and Uri would never have blindly tried to stop him. Therefore, she wouldn’t be dead, Jya wouldn’t have been kidnapped and her life would have continued on normally as it always did. Her and her friends would be enjoying themselves and possibly partying the nights away like most of the younger citizen’s of Irrakam did. Those underground parties were always a blast, until some local law enforcement came and broke them up, but sometimes if they were lucky that never happened.

But because of what the Coalition did none of that had happened and things had changed drastically all within a two-day period and now she was being kept in the dark about what and who they were. She understood Letho’s position but it still irked her to the very core of her being. She knew even asking him in private would probably reveal no information to her. If he wasn’t going to allow her to hear it now why would he allow her to hear it later? After all, she was just the local girl with animosity towards him, unjustly blaming him for the death of her best friend, why should he tell her anything? He didn’t give a sand scorpion’s ass about her or her feelings. Yet, looking back to a few minutes ago when he’d held Myrhia so tightly in his arms and thanked her, actually thanked her with the stars in his eyes and a look of profound gratitude on his face it had seemed like his feelings towards her had changed. She’d probably never know for sure, after tonight Ira would most likely never see him again.

Tonight. That was something in and of itself. A feast all around to celebrate the honorary guests and what they had accomplished. A shuffle to prepared rooms, a steaming hot bath and some grooming. Though the events of the passed two days were still fresh in her mind the Calerian tried to relax and just enjoy being pampered. Priestesses were coming and going through her chambers; one in particular had spent over an hour with her tediously healing all of her wounds. By the end of her bath she’d had not a single scratch or bruise marring her skin. There weren’t even any scars and the bump on the back of her head from where she’d hit that damnable wall, gone. After that, she’d shooed all the Priestesses out of her room and told them to come back in an hour because she needed some sleep. And sleep she did for that hour, like the dead. Nothing disturbed her and when they returned to wake her with some choices of dresses she’d just wanted to roll back over and forget the world even existed. Grudgingly, she’d gotten out of the oversized and overstuffed bed to try on the dresses though.

Quickly—with all these women fawning over her—Ira was lost in the moment of just, well, being a woman and not a warrior. She got to admire herself in pretty little outfits with matching, sparkling Fallien glass dangling from her ears and around her neck. She laughed with the Priestesses and even for fun made a few of them try on the dresses and model for her. It had been nice, to just forget and be normal for once. But now she found herself sitting at the table, with Jya on one side of her and Alikam on the other, Alikam who couldn’t stop taking cautious glances at her from the corner of his eye. She guessed she’d picked the right outfit then. A deep red dress adorned her body, darker than blood. Strapless, the front of it cascaded down and overlaid itself, showing a fair amount of cleavage in the process. The back did the same; only it revealed her entire back, stopping just shy of her bottom. It clung to her every curve and shifted in just the right way to draw attention to them when she moved. A dangling pair of Kiramaini glass earrings brushing her jaw line and a matching necklace resting on her collarbone. There was also a long line of the glass beads dangling down her back. Normally she would love this, but it was overshadowed with what had happened to cause such a feast. At least Messia was enjoying herself, she’d been invited as Ira requested and the blue haired Calerian was enjoying all the attention she was getting, especially from the male crowd.

Ira also couldn’t stop thinking about the present that Jya had given her. Coming into her quarters when she’d been trying on dresses—this one in particular—and telling her she looked fabulous, she’d asked the Priestesses to leave.

“Ira, do you have your crystals with you?”

“Of course…but how do you know about them?”

Not many people knew about the crystals and the fact that Calerian’s drew their abilities from them, bonding with them in fact.

“I may not know a lot about Calerians but I know you use crystals in battle.”

Ira slowly nodded her head, looking from the velvet-covered box back to Jya’s face, “Which crystal?”

“Which one forms your weapons?” She asked with a smiled.

“The Serenna Crystal.” Walking away from the mirror she’d been studying herself in, Ira walked over to a corner of the room where her meagre physical armour was. Grabbing one of her armguards, she pried the crystal from the underside and walked back over to Jya. Wordlessly, Jya opened the small box she was holding and pulled back the satiny fabric and reveal another crystal that shimmered in multiple colours depending on how the light touched it.

“This is the Ad Atmika, my gift to you for what you have done.”

Ad Atmika, a crystal of the soul?

Ira looked questioningly from the crystal to Jya; unsure of this gift she was being given.

“An enchantment to the Serenna Crystal,” she began to explain, “it has to be thought activated but when it is it will allow you to attack the soul of a person instead of the flesh. The blade will pass through the body creating no harm but will cause severe pain to the inner soul and a calculated attack or enough damage will force the soul from the body, putting it in a kind of animated sleep. After a period of time the soul will return. However, too much damage and you will destroy the soul of the person and in this state you can also sever the string of fate that binds the soul to the still living body and kill the person.”

Ira looked at the crystal in surprise. So much power from such a tiny little thing and yet there was so much power housed within the crystals she already carried with her, should she really be so surprised by this? She had just never known such a thing was possible.

“Would you like the enchantment?”

Ira nodded her head, “Yes.” It was a much better alternative to killing a person amd it coule come in handy. She was not about to turn down a gift from The Jya either.

Smiling, Jya took the Serenna Crystal from Ira’s hand and fused the two of them together in a bright flash of light. When she was done the crystal in her hand had no great difference from the two used to create it. It looked like a normal clear crystal, however in the centre of it a brilliant display of colour seemed to reflect off inner facets she could not see.

“Thank you…” Ira said, gently retrieving the crystal from Jya.

“Your welcome, I know you will use it wisely.”

With that, Jya left the room and Ira stared at the crystal for a long time before the uttered the word ‘Serenmika’ and then returned to getting ready.

The sound of a glass being tapped brought Ira out of her reverie.

“I would like to draw everyone’s attention please.”

That didn’t take long as Jya stood from her ornate chair. Every person in the room became quiet and every eye turned to her, especially the eyes of those at the head table.

“As you all know, we’re here to celebrate the great deeds of those sitting with me tonight. For their bravery and selflessness in saving my Priestesses and myself and for stopping a monstrous attack on Fallien. Because of them, I am here to throw this celebration and because of them our nation is safe.” Behind Jya, unnoticed by most too caught up in her words, a Priestess came forward carrying an ornate box in her hands, “If my guests would please rise from their seats.” Jya smiled as Ira and the others pushed their chairs out and rose from the table. Opening the box, revealed four gleaming medals from within and with great care, Jya took these medals and slipped them over each of their heads and giving each of them a kiss on the cheek as well. Ira was blushing immensely by the time the whole thing was over with and they were once again seated, the noise level slowly returning and the eyes finally leaving her.

Attention was nothing she grabbed for.

An hour or so later in the evening Ira had enough of the party and as discreetly as possible crept from the grand hall. Leaving The Keep altogether, Ira made her way through the deserted streets of Irrakam. This late at night there were few people around, many being invited to the festivities and many more having simply gone to bed. Those who were out paid little attention to her, all knew of the party, so an elegantly dressed woman walking down the street was nothing too surprising, though eyes did tend to linger. Eventually, she made her way to the place that began this whole affair. The sight of the fires and the rubble under which Uri’s body was buried somewhere. It was picturesque. A quiet street, a cloudless night with too many stars to count and a barely full moon shining down upon her, illuminating the stones and creating the illusion of a blue glow upon their blackened faces. It was so calm and peaceful compared to what it had been.

[Letho]

Even though she felt awfully alien in the proximity of all the lords and ladies, Myrhia regretfully followed Letho out of the ball room once he excused himself and followed Ira’s stealthy departure. She didn’t belong there, amidst all those people that were prettier then her and had more manners then her, but she still relished in just being there, seeing them dance and whirl in the rhythm of the brads’ music. She was an ex-slave, somebody who was literally nothing until recently, and even being in the presence of something so grand, so imperial, it was a dream that she never expected to come true. So a part of her definitely wanted to stay despite feeling embarrassed for all the mistakes she made during the feast – thinking that water for washing her hands was a peculiarly clear looking soup being just one of them. But Letho made it clear that they had another thing to take care off before their return to Corone and even though she wasn’t exactly a brainiac, following Ira’s departure made it clear that it had something to do with the Calerian woman.

Still, she found some joy in the medal that dangled between her modest breasts. The golden medallion was definitely the prettiest thing she ever got from anybody that wasn’t Letho. So when the pair walked out of the Keep and into the benighted streets, Myrhia kept dropping her eyes to the medal, fingering it every once in a while. She and Letho walked almost like royalty, the willowy redhead holding to the crook of the Marshal’s arm as their glamorous attires attracted the attention of the sparse onlookers that moved through the streets. They were almost like royalty mostly because Myrhia was barefooted, her feet tapping softly on the warm cobbles. She discarded the high-heeled glittery shoes the moment they left the ballroom, the damn things nearly making her sprain an ankle thrice during the evening.

It wasn’t until she caught a glimpse of the well she fell into the day before that she realized where Ira was going and what made Letho follow the Fallien woman. The celebration sure was empyrean and people attending it sure were important. But there was one person that couldn’t attend it and a worm of guilt for this burrowed itself into the swordsman, reminding him of Uriahd that perished because of his recklessness. Whether or not he was directly responsible for her death didn’t matter. What did was that he was responsible, for her, for Ira, for all those that were captured behind those flaming walls yesterday and for Myrhia as well. And the more he mulled on it, the more he realized that there might’ve been a better way to act. If he explained why he was doing what he was doing, if he took five seconds to speak to the crowd, then maybe Uri would me alongside Messia, dancing in that hall tonight. He didn’t deserve a medal for what he did - that was the thing that pained him the most. Instead it felt like a heated brand around his neck, burning his chest and reminding him of what he did every time the metal clinked against the glass of his scarlet armor. But there was somebody who deserved to be decorated for her actions.

Eventually they reached the heap of rubble that barred entrance to the side alley beyond. Ira was already there as he expected, standing serenely and observing the stones that formed a grave for her friend. It was a haunting sight for both Letho and Myrhia, the moon above spilling silver that gave an unnatural glow to everything, the only sound the rustling of Myrhia’s dress and the minute clinking of his armor. She probably wanted to be alone and even if she didn’t, he was probably the last person she wanted as a companion in her mourning. But he couldn’t leave Fallien without finally doing what was unmistakably the right thing.

He detached himself from the redhead’s side wordlessly, approaching the violet-haired woman that looked stunning in her outfit. He didn’t speak to her, didn’t apologize for his intrusion, didn’t even look at Ira. Instead his hands moved to the smooth golden chain that held the medal around his neck, slipping it over his head before he dropped to one knee in front of the woman. The medallion, clearly depicting a warrior riding a massive bird that seemed ablaze, was gently lowered on the blackened stones below.

“I do not deserve this.” he finally spoke, the sternness of his tone cracked and wavered slightly under the boiling emotions as he got up and faced Ira. “But she does. I know words and apologies offer little consolation, but I will offer them anyways. You’re a good woman, strong woman, Ira, and so was Uri. She will find her way to the Halls of Gathering. I am sorry she walked that path before her time and that I was responsible for her death.”

Ira maybe talked to the dead and they haunted her in their spirit form, but Letho had ghosts of his own as well. They always came in the dull hours of the night, faces etched on the walls inside his head, faces and screams of those that perished by his hand. And the innocent ones were always twice as vivid, twice as loud, twice as persistent at reminding him of what transpired and shouldn’t be forgotten. Uriahd was the newest specter that would follow him around probably until the end of his days. He would always remember the bitter smoke that burned his lungs, the devouring flames that bit at his skin, the buzz of explosions in his ears and that faint scream as he leapt through the fires. And that was the way it ought to be. Life was too great of a thing for its loss to fade into oblivion.

Myrhia’s eyes welled with tears as she listened to him speak and felt the heaviness in his voice. He always knew what to say and the right way to say it in moments such as this one and it always moved her when she saw him peel away a part of his shell and display a portion of what lay beyond his gruff exterior. And when he finished, she couldn’t prevent herself from offering her own, much more emotional and unrestrained, apology and thanks. Her bare feet took her to where the pair stood and with a slight pause that was enough for a pair of tears to slide down her cheeks she threw her arms around the Calerian and hugged her tightly.

“I’m so sorry, Ira.” was the only thing she whispered as she held on to the beautiful woman. After several seconds her hands let go, but the redhead didn’t move away from the Fallien female. Instead her hands moved to her medal which she removed from her neck and donned over Ira’s. “Thank you for saving me.” she added with a coy smile, hoping that the woman wouldn’t push her aside like the last time she tired to apologize.

This would iron things out completely, both Myrhia and Letho knew that. Even if they met with Ira again, the ghost of Uriahd would loom above them, inside of them, displaying itself in their eyes, in their demeanor. But what both of them hoped for was that this could be the first step on a journey to forgiveness.

((SPOILS: Ornate full plate mail – made out of extremely tough Cillu glass, this armor was given to Letho by Jya as a gift for the services he did for the Fallien kingdom. As hard and as light as mythril, this armor looks as if it was made out of scarlet dragonscales. It is consisted of a scale mail that covers the torso, a pair of pauldrons, a pair of combat boots, greaves and a helmet.

Also, Myrhia gets a pair of silk dresses decorated by Kiramani glass, one rosy and the other pearly white.))

[Iriah Caitrak]

She heard them approach her long before she bothered to turn and look. It was a quiet night and the clinking of armour and the soft peddling of feet was something that echoes, especially in the streets of Irrakam. In truth, she’d been hoping it wasn’t them; she’d wanted it to be some random pedestrians just walking by, enjoying the scenery or even looking at the destruction that had befallen their fair city. That’s what she’d wanted it to be but since when did anyone ever care what she wanted? What she really wanted was her life long friend back and for all of this to have been some kind of nightmare, the kind she’d been prone to when she was younger. If only such things were possible though, she could imagine, she could fantasize and she could hope but in the morning when she woke up nothing would have changed. Uri would still be dead, she would still have yet to shed a single tear and they would have to return to the tribe soon, with two walking and one on her back.

Instinctively knowing it was Letho and Myrhia, Ira slowly turned and faced them. Solemn, sad expressions were gracing both of their faces. In shock more than anything else, Ira watched as Letho approached her then knelt before her, placing the medal Jya had given him on the stones for Uri. Emotions were hard to control and as she watched that small item, that small gesture that said so much about Letho she had never perceived to know or care about before she couldn’t help but feel the well of tears begin to burn in the back of her eyes. She couldn’t help it and she wasn’t sure if she even wanted to stop them. They spilled down her cheeks and when Myrhia hugged her she felt that smell dam break. Small arms wrapped around her body and Ira hugged Myrhia back as if the world depended on how tightly they could hold on to each other. It felt so good to just hold someone like this and feel the cold tears fall down her face, even if they were staining Myrhia’s dress. Eventually the two of them cut off the embrace and Myrhia too gave Ira her medal, slipping it over her head. But Ira quickly stopped her and took the medal, putting it back around Myrhia’s neck.

“This is yours…” Ira smiled somewhere between gratitude, respect and sadness then wiped the tears from Myrhia’s face. She wanted to say more but the words would not form in her mind and sometimes silence said more than all the words within the world.

Brushing a lock of Myrhia’s hair from her face, Ira moved passed the small woman to Letho who was watching the whole thing with a careful and sad eye. Looking up to the man, Ira extended her hand to him, “Fallien always welcomes you, the Calerian tribe will always have a place for you and the doors of my home will always be open…for both of you.”

For a moment, Ira watched the man hesitate and she feared that after all this and coming to the realization that it was not truly Letho’s fault in what happened to Uri he might not even accept her offer of friendship and forgiveness. But her worry panned out to be nothing as Letho accepted her hand a slight smile playing across his face.

Relief washed over her as Ira stepped in closer to Letho, rising to her toes to whisper so Myrhia could not hear, “I expect to be invited to the wedding.”

Truly smiling even as tears were still fresh in her eyes making them glitter in the light of the moon, Ira stepped back from Letho and together the three of them headed back towards The Keep. Ira wanted the blissful nothingness of sleep; in the morning there was work to be gone and souls still within The Keep that had not moved on. The stones needed to be moved, her initial reason for being in Irrakam needed to be fulfilled and she needed to head back home. This adventure was over, another chapter of a book that had been told, written, signed and closed for now.


((Spoils Serenmika: Ira’s Serenna Crystal has been combined with Ad Atmika to make the Serenmika Crystal. This new form of the crystal allows for an enchantment to be called upon her weapons. When this enchantment is activated the blade will glow blue and will pass through flesh to attack the soul of the person, causing two times the pain. A calculated and direct blow to the Thread of Fate will cause the soul to be forced from the body, enough damage done to the soul and it will also be forced from the living body. If too much damage is dealt to the soul it will be destroyed.

A detailed explanation of what happens to the soul, body and what the Threads of Fate are will be given in my level up.))

[AdventWings]

Judgment is in! And what a read this is!

Story

Continuity - 8/10

Both of you did well to say where you were going, what you were doing and how it turned out in the end, for better or for worse. Also, I’m expected to be invited as well, Letho. :D Soon, perhaps?

Setting - 8/10

Rich setting, stunning details and dynamic scenarios helped to keep the story exciting from the first scene to the last. Of course, there were a few lapses that tugged at my conscience and kept me from enjoying all of the intricate details. Overall, there were a lot of visual details throughout the story, plus a few nice ones from other senses – the bitter taste of charcoal, the heated flames and burning afternoon sun of Irrakam. Very nice.

Pacing - 8/10

You kept the pacing interesting through the entire story as well, letting tension build up here and there, releasing some and playing on it a few times later. At some points the entire scene slipped by so quickly I was expecting more and nearly missed a full two sentences. This goes mostly for Ira, but you two gave me a very good time reading this. The scene down at the fire rubble tugged me one last time and gave me a pleasing aftertaste. A good way to end this chapter.

Character

Dialogue - 8/10

Letho – Your character’s “don’t give a care” attitude came out in the dialogue very well and it served as a defining point for you. His last few words, however, gave me a nice glimpse into his softer, sentimental side. You also played well with dialogues of NPCs and the occasions where you bunnied Ira. Of course, it would be nice to mention that somewhere for the judges to see or it would come off more as powergaming.

Ira – I read Ira’s character for the first time in this story and already I could relate to how she reacted to different scenarios. Her short speeches met well with the female dominance that Fallien favored. It was also nice to hear Fallien speech in your posts – it served to tell the readers there are other languages besides Tradespeak and you played on the language barrier well in the first half of the story. Your portrayal of NPCs were also believable and memorable. Great job.

Action - 8/10

Both of you portrayed your characters and NPCs well, to the point that it seemed you were essentially the same writer. That’s a scary thought, now that I think of it, but it’s good to see consistencies in IC actions from all parties in a given thread. As for the scene where Letho was shooting off his Lawmaker all over the grand ballroom, I expected to see the guards wince at the destruction an outsider was causing to their ruler’s house. Heck, I’d be cursing under my breath witnessing that kind of destruction. But, oh, well. You two had characters that pretty much did not care much after all so that was understandable.

Persona - 8/10

Letho’s cold demeanor clashed soundly with Ira’s fiery and sympathetic (though at times frigid and unforgiving) demeanor, which served to lend tension among the individuals before and during the raid into Jya’s Keep. There were not merely just displays of personalities, but interaction of personalities as well. Most people only touch lightly on this and I expect you two to delve deeper into this aspect as well.

Writing Style

Technique - 8/10

A lot of foreshadowing, flashbacks and well-placed suspense kept me interested while also hinting to what would be happening next. Do not overuse this, though, or the readers would get bored from all the backstory and hinting.

Mechanics - 7/10

I could see some glaring spelling errors that were quite easily ignored or thought to be correct. There were not a lot of it, but enough popped up during the latter half that it irked me somewhat slightly.

Clarity - 9/10

This is where both of you scored big. I understood everything you tried to convey, even the in-between actions and reactions from both the characters and NPCs. The occasional grammar errors which tripped me during reading kept you from the coveted 10, though. Read through your posts from time to time and don’t be afraid to go back and rewrite your posts if you felt it did not fit well enough.

Misc

Wild Card - 8/10

I love this story. It’s short, I know, but played on a wide variety of emotions and reactions. This story has a lot of depth that some longer ones lacked, despite the… well, short length of it all.

FINAL SCORE – 80!

((Rewards + Spoils))

Letho – Receives his Scarlet Chillu Glass Full Plate Set. This includes the Scale Mail, Pauldrons, Combat Boots, Greaves and a Helmet. They are shaped similar to Red Dragon Scales, though a trained eye can see that it is not. Also, he gets to keep the scarlet cape, decorated with a phoenix symbol on the back, and Letho relinquishes his gold medallion at the site of the fallen houses in mourning to Uriahd.

Myrhianna – One rosy silk dress decorated with sparkly shards of Kiramaini Glass (minus the glittery high-heels. Wouldn’t want her to break her ankles) and one pearly-white silk dress, also decorated with sparkly Kiramaini Glass. Myrhia also keeps her medallion.
((NOTE: Considering that the Kiramaini glass is considered sacred and rare, the ones on Myrhia’s dresses are only tiny shards for ornamental purposes.))

Ira of Shinkara – The upgraded Serenna Crystal, dubbed the Serenmika, and its abilities. Take care not to powergame this, though, and remember to have it checked with the RoG Mods before this upgrade is permanent. She also receives the golden medallion for her courage during the Coalition Occupation.

Also, I do believe Ira and Messia had to bring some wares back home as well. That’s up to you to decide how you want them to deal with it. :D

Letho receives 4240 EXP.

Ira receives 1620 EXP.

Both receive +5 Fallien Reputation Points for their courageous deeds in defense of Irrakam during the fire and for rescuing the Jya from the Coalition forces.

[Cyrus the virus]

EXP added, good job guys!