Heart of Ash

[Karuka]

Closed to Rayse. This thread is heavily co-written; there are no bunnies so much as we each put our characters into each others' posts. This thread contains some tastefully done mature content. If you can't handle implied nudity, this may not be the thread for you. Finally, no post in this s thread should be assumed to be in its final form until it has been submitted for judgment. That is all. Thank you and enjoy our tale.

Howling winds lashed across the Salvic tundra, kicking up billowing clouds of powdery snow and ice shards that pelted viciously against anything in their path. Two of those things were a woman who braced a heavy hide cloak against the weather and a red and gold bird who steamed his discontent, perched determinedly on a shoulder he was really too big for. For more than a mile now the pair had crunched past the crude wooden posts and planks that marked off fields and fallows; civilization couldn't be far. A settlement would mean hot food, a chance to rest, and most importantly, the opportunity for the human to knock the frozen crust from her cloak, boots and hair.

They found the village almost suddenly, when the wind died down and revealed a small collection of wooden houses and a barn or two, a large granary, and little else. Even calling it a hamlet would have been generous; there couldn't have been more than twenty families living in this ever-so-small cluster of buildings. A deathly silence permeated the narrow street.

That brought a halt to the redhead’s grateful steps. Despite the punishing storm, there should have been a feeling of life here. Even through the wooden walls, she should have been able to see the rippling auras of children playing on floors, or a young couple taking the opportunity to celebrate being warm and together, or anything. Even over the cutting winds, she could hear the occasional baby fuss, but other than that, the town sounded abandoned. The auras she observed were somber, people sitting dejectedly around their tables or on their beds.

An amber face frowned and numb fingers dug into warm down, despite a squawk of protest from the phoenix. This wasn't normal. Even if someone had died, there would be people drinking, laughing, and telling stories. Unless it was a child… Sky blue eyes went ice blue as the visitor peered into the town’s recent past.


The sky glowed dark silver, heavy and pregnant with snow. The whole town crowded around one of the houses, four or five dozen shouting Slavic serfs who reeked of impotent rage and extremely potent fear. At the center of the mass stood a group of half a dozen men, all tall and muscular, each with a mean look in his eyes. In the doorway, two of them pinioned a teenage girl by her arms. While the outrage of the townsfolk drowned out the murmurs from her lips, tears tracked down her cheeks and her slender body trembled.

The leader among the outsiders spat at some of the serfs, mouth set defiantly beneath a thick black beard. Where the townsfolk were pressed into each other, huddled close to lend courage to the others, the invaders stood as boldly and separately as pillars. Each man was armed with a sword and crossbow, each stood tall and proud, and each was dressed well and warmly.

“Do you lot dare deny us what is ours? You borrowed money, do you think you can just not pay it back?”

“Give us until spring! We’ll have the money the-” a thin man, still too young to be a village elder, cut himself off abruptly at a glare from the bearded brute.

“You’ve had your time. Do you want to see what happens when we don’t get paid?”

The crowd’s fear spiked; there was no bluff in the slaver’s voice. Three of the burly men shoved the townsfolk out of their path. Two dragged the weeping girl from her mother’s home. The leader followed last. The men piled into a sleigh and started driving north.

Deep red lips curled in a snarl; this late-afternoon visitor had no patience for slavers. Despite her long trek in the cold, despite having walked into town with extremities nearly numb, despite looking forward to a hot bowl of soup while sheltered from the vicious snowstorm, she marched to the door of the girl’s house, pounding hard on the worn wood.

“What d’y’ have t’ ride?” she demanded of the scrawny man from the vision when the door cracked open. “I’m going t’ get yer girl back.”

Ten minutes later, she was thundering out of town on a large bay mare used to plow fields, phoenix flying high above her.


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

A seven-passenger sleigh driven by two horses traveled slower than a horse ridden by one light woman, and it wasn’t quite dark when she caught sight of them. The snow had eased from its earlier fury, and she had closed to within a mile of them when they appeared in her view. With her horse’s hooves muffled in the thick blanket of white carpeting the ground, she was able to close in to half a mile before one of them turned and saw the approaching rider.

She heard him shout, saw the driver flick the whip to spur his horses faster, and in response she raised her right hand, driving it down hard. Blue eyes flared golden and blocks of ice formed on the sleigh’s treads, slamming it to a stop. The horses snapped free, leaving the slavers immobile.

Salvic profanities flew to cold-reddened ears, thick fingers fumbled with crossbows and bolts, and the lone rider whispered something in the horse’s ear before leaping off, letting it veer out of the path of fire. She wasn't far now, barely two hundred yards out and running as quickly as she could through the thick snow that barely dragged at her feet.

The first round of bolts was laughably off target, the closest whizzing more than a foot from her shoulder. The second round was better, forcing her to weave right to avoid a quarrel to her skull and run right into another one. It hit with bruising force, but bounced otherwise harmlessly off of her new prevalida breastplate. By that time, the woman had had enough of bolts coming her way, so another sharp gesture sent an ice wall up between her and the shooters, forcing them to climb out to face her.

“TAO!” She pointed at the pair trying to run at her left, sending a firebomb with sharp talons speeding towards tender faces. A third ice spell engulfed a second pair of slavers up to their necks, leaving them able only to shout and swear.

The final pair, the black-bearded leader and a rugged blond, held the girl as the warrior approached. The blond had his sword to the girl’s neck, the dark leveled his crossbow at the dark-skinned woman who was stalking toward them. “One more step and we’ll kill you b-”

An amber hand flicked a short spear so that it balanced on slender shoulders, then rose and carved a jagged path toward the ground. The sky rumbled, making the Salvarans look up anxiously. A bolt of lightning spat down from the heavens, striking a direct hit on the speaker and sending him twitching to the ground. Before the blond could recover from his surprise, both of the mage’s hands came together, forming interlocked chevrons, and she pulled, yanking his sword from his hand and giving the finely-sculpted teenager a chance to run.

Run she did; the bay mare emerged just on the other side of the wagon, patiently waiting for her rider's return and serving as a beacon for the stolen girl. Her rescuer paid her no mind, bringing her spear around to whack the man’s arm before he could pull his crossbow again. Despite having disarmed him, she hit him again and again, one rapid, brutal blow after another, until he dropped to the ground in surrender.

“Do you know what you've done? Do you know what will happen to you, bitch? When the boss finds out, he’s going to come for you, for her, and for that whole miserable fucking town!”

Red lips pulled back mirthlessly from white teeth. Hard blue eyes glowered down on the beaten slaver. “Yer boss, ay? Run back t’ him, dog. An’ when y’ see him, tell ‘im that Karuka O’Sheean would like a word with ‘im.”

[Karuka]

Tired hooves plodded over hard-packed snow, fighting to carry the weary mare to her warm stable and her riders to the relative safety of wooden walls. A teenage girl huddled shivering beneath a heavy cloak, pressed tight against the witch's back. What else could the dark-skinned warrior with burning red hair be? Snows and skies both obeyed her. Even so, riding home behind her was preferable to whatever the man who had claimed her as collateral had planned, so she kept her peace.

"M- my n-name is Maija," she offered at length. "You said you were Kruuka?"

"Karuka," she corrected. "Karuka O'Sheean. I walk around an' get into trouble sometimes." Karu smiled back at the lass. She was certainly the village beauty, with gently curling light brown hair, big gray-blue eyes, and a delicate, well-defined bone structure. That was probably why she'd been taken; pretty female slaves were worth far more money than ugly ones. "What was all that about?"

"W-well, last fall we had a bad harvest, so we had to borrow money to buy more seeds to plant and food to eat. This year's Harvey wasn't much better. The village wasn't able to pay the lender his money back. S-so..."

"Merciless, cold-hearted thug."

Maija fidgeted. "Th-those men... did you...?"

"Killed 'em an' left 'em for dead, ay," Karuka acknowledged readily. "'Cept th' messenger. I've no mercy on men who steal lives. They accept their deaths when they choose t' rend families."

The horse crested a small snow dune and snorted with relief. The lights of home finally peeked through the gently drifting snow. "C'mon, lass. Let's get y' home t' yer parents."


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

The town's quiet grief turned to shocked relief and an apprehension that rumbled just beneath the surface. Of course Maija's safe return brought unspeakable joy. But...

The village elder came to the home of Maija's parents shortly after the unexpected visitor returned from putting up the horse. In their gratitude, the family had offered Karuka food and lodging, so she was enjoying a humble but hearty meal of vegetable stew, a boiled egg, and some sort of dark, tough bead that was richly flavorful.

"We are of course thankful to you got returning our girl to us," he began after a brief exchange of introductions and pleasantries. "But what about when the man we borrowed from comes back to claim her?"

"I told him to." Karuka flexed her fingers, stretching away some of the stiff numbness that lingered in her slowly thawing extremities. "I've ay little patience for slavers, an' would much like t' tell 'im that myself. I'm in th' area t' visit an old friend, but he's not expecting me an' so can wait, as can my friends in Berevar, if they're even still there."

"He doesn't come himself. Ever," murmured Lovisa, setting a rough clay cup full of hot herbal tea beside her daughter's rescuer. "He'll just send more men, and more."

Karuka grinned mirthlessly. "If he sends me an army of men t' slaughter b'fore comin' himself, then your fields will be fertile with th' blood of th' fallen. But I will not stand for yer children t' be taken."

Whether they were convinced or not remained uncertain, but that announcement ended the conversation. The elder excused himself, leaving the family and the powerful stranger alone.

The long day done, Karuka settled into a bed stuffed with goose feathers. It was soft and warm, but the pinions poked viciously through the crudely-woven sheets. No matter; the Celt was used to worse, and Taodoine snuggled on her back like a blanket, as was his custom. In the sweltering humidity of Dheathain or the beating sun of Fallien, that would be a problem. If she hadn't put him up to roost at night in Jalaan, she would wake up dripping sweat from the insistent cuddling of her familiar. But here in Salvar's early winter his warmth was more than welcome.

In the quiet, the smell of the place drifted into the woman's nose, dominating her senses. It was the smell of hard, honest work, of want and worry. Who could take so cruelly from these people who had so little?

[Rayse Valentino]

You gotta keep people somewhere. All the people that defy you, that think they can slip something through. The deterrent of getting caught is the only thing that keeps order in this shithole.

In one of The Company's many detention centers, Rayse walked through a hallway with holding cells on each side, a wooden door separating him from the many who thought wrong. He wore his typical unbuttoned black suit with matching slacks, covering a black shirt. The complex was made of stone, and the sound of screaming and weeping was a common occurrence. A cigarette was in his mouth, and with each drag the smoke became part of the chorus. Unlike the enforcers of the day, the ones of the night had no pretense of justice. No, this was simple punishment, a reminder for anyone out there that The Company truly ruled this country. Rayse didn't mind this arrangement; Anyone stupid enough to end up here was learning a valuable lesson. Well, unless they were being expected, in which case their loved ones were learning a lesson.

He was here for a particular prisoner, with a guard leading him into a chamber with a man curled up in the corner in darkness. He brought a torch with him, and placed it in the appropriate slot on the wall of the room.

The door closed behind Rayse, and he immediately wretched, "Ugh, I thought I told you to move him into a clean room!" He heard a meek apology from behind the door. Rayse shook his head, "Alright, get up." The ragged man in the corner, clad in loose-fitting cloth, slowly moved to his feet. Most of his hair was cut off, and he was squinting, trying to adjust to the light. "I heard you were being difficult."

"Y-You don't understand!" The man said, clearly with no idea with whom he was conversing. His speech was nervous, his body bruised his back bloody and scarred from repeated lashings. "If I talk, t-they'll kill my family! Let me contact them f-first! Then I'll tell you everything, I promise!"

Promises were like gifts of flowers; Already ripped from the ground, they were destined to death. This promise would fade as soon as the man got his wish.

"Funny... you think you're in a position to negotiate?" Rayse snapped the fingers of his right hand and produced a flame at the tip of his middle finger. As if it was material, he flicked the flame and watched it land on the prisoner's clothes. The man was confused at first, but then panic set in as the flame spread across his body, completely engulfing him. He screamed and rolled around, trying to put it out, but nothing was working. Rayse sighed, "You're not burning. Not yet." The man stopped rolling, his heart racing and breath hoarse. He looked at his burning hands and felt no pain.

"W, What did you do to me?!"

"Conflagration is normally a pretty quick death. I've found a way to make it as slow as I like. Care to give it a try?"

The man had been tortured since he was put in here, and so his demeanor changed when he heard this new threat, "Do your worst! I'll never put my family at r-"

Rayse snapped his fingers, and the man's wailing began. He fell back to the floor, grabbing at the ground in furious bursts, the dirt catching fire around him. After ten seconds, his screaming stopped, replaced by a deep groaning and drool coming out of his mouth. Despite the pain, his skin only felt slightly warm to the touch. Somehow he was feeling the pain of being burned alive without the incineration.

"Never felt pain like that before, have you? Like jumping into a deep chasm and surviving the fall, like a thousand knives stabbing into your body all at once." The flames still surrounded the prisoner, but they were no longer affecting him. "How much longer you want to go? A few hours, days maybe? There is no escape of death."

"I'll n, never..." the prisoner said feebly. Rayse snapped his fingers again and the screaming resumed. It was starting to sound like music to him, mixing in with the orchestra of the rest of the compound. This time the flames did not let up for twenty seconds. The man threw up at the end of this one, pouring out whatever was left in him. "S-Stop! I'll talk!"

Minutes later, Rayse knocked on the door and the guard let him out. As the door was closing, the man yelled out, "Wait! The flames... they haven't disappeared yet!"

The contractor looked back one last time before the door closed, but said nothing. Why talk to a dead man? There was another bout of screaming, but it subsided soon enough. As for his family, well, they were already taken care of.

In front of him, there was someone new. The man was pale and out of breath, wearing a fur coat with thick pants.

"Sir!" he said, trying to catch enough of a breath to continue. "She killed them! She killed them all!"

Rayse had no patience for vagueness, and grabbed the man by his collar and pressed him up against the cold stone wall. "Out with it!"

"You sent us to the village for the girl! But someone came after us, she killed everyone but me, sir! Told me to send a message!" Rayse tightened his grip. "Her name, uh, is Kruuk Sheen! She wants to see you!" Rayse let him down, taking another drag off his nearly-spent cigarette. "It was crazy, sir! She threw ice, lightning, fire, she moved like the wind! We didn't stand a chance!"

"What did she look like?"

"She had red hair, and... a golden complexion! I think dark. She spoke in a strange accent, I don't know where it's from! That's all I know, sir, I swear!"

Red hair, gold complexion, elemental magic... Kruuk Sheen? Is that an orcish name? Rayse had no idea who she was.

"Where is she now?

"I think she took the girl back with her. She was merciless, sir! Brutal!"

Rayse wanted out of that filthy dungeon. He told the coated man to follow him and moved back up to the surface. The winds were still shrieking, the blizzard not letting up for even a moment. The man beside him was shivering, but Rayse stood still and flicked his cigarette into the snow. Snowflakes melted as soon as they landed on his suit, and a small stream of steam rose from his person. Interlopers like this had to be taken seriously. If every village thought they could rely on some wandering do-gooder, there would be no end to it. They had to see their savior fall before their own eyes.

"Send Malak and Sariss. Go ahead of them undetected and make sure they do their jobs. They need to bring back the girl unsullied."

"Sir!" the man protested. "Those two... They..."

"I know," Rayse interrupted. "They're psychopaths. But powerful. Consider this a field test for them to do something a little more delicate."

[Rayse Valentino]

A hooded man entered the stone structure. The floor and walls were smooth, featureless, the whole place freshly constructed from long blocks of carefully cut rock. There was a counter at the front, and a stone stool, and another man sipped from a bottle of whiskey. There was no bartender, no other patrons, only the two men and a torch that was near the bottle. The blizzard poured in, and behind the hooded man, a stone door rose up from the ground and locked them in, and the harsh winds out.

The hooded man called out, “Malak, the boss has a job for you.” He pulled down his head covering and revealed himself to be the blond slaver who had reported to Rayse. Malak swirled the liquid inside the bottle with his hand, but didn’t turn around. He had spiky black hair that pointed left and wore a long purple tunic. On his hands were a pair of brown gloves, and one of them was glowing. Barely visible shadows crept from the glowing glove into the counter.

“About time,” he said. “And why did he send you, Paul, instead of coming himself?”

“You know he’s a busy man, Malak,” Paul replied, shaking his head. “He needs you and your sister to head on over to a nearby town.” He explained the details to Malak, who finished off his bottle and got up.

The stool moved itself out of the way, and the ground turned into a conveyer belt that brought Malak over to Paul.

“I have a theory,” he said, a mischievous grin on his face. “You failed to bring the girl, so he sent you over here, did he?”

“Y-Yes… ? I know what that troublemaker looks like.”

“I have a feeling you were sent to me for another purpose. Well, you know me. I don’t beat around the bush.” Malak shrugged and walked by Paul. With a flick of his glowing hand, the stone door came back down into the ground. “Have a nice life, Paul.”

“W, what?!” The ground rumbled beneath them and long stone slabs appeared on all four sides of Paul. “What are you doing, Malak?!”

Malak did not respond, and willed another thick stone slab to fit nicely in the gap created at the top of the makeshift prison. He walked out the bar he created and the door rose up to seal in the pleading of the messenger. The thick stone slab above Paul began to descend.

[Karuka]

A sharp gasp broke the pre-dawn silence, followed by a squawk of protest. Taodoine tumbled onto the rough bed, thrown from his comfortable roost in the small of his master’s back as she bolted up, fumbling with her new breastplate and kicking Consequence to call it to hand. A strong hand grabbed the heavy cloak slung over the foot of the bed and long legs crossed to the family.

“Everyone up, now! Grab every person y’ can, rush t’ th’ south-east side of the village.”

Sleepy serfs struggled sluggishly in the shackles of somnolence at the rapidly-spoken warning. The redhead, anxious from the vision of carnage that had wakened her from her slumber, had no patience for their delays. “NOW! Get ev’ryone an’ move!”

She ran out into the biting wind; there were houses in direct danger, elders and children in danger of being obliterated with a single cruel flick of a gauntleted hand. Booted feet raced over slick snow and her heavy cloak grabbed the wind, trying to drag her while she rushed to the humble homes due for disaster.

Sharp blue eyes peered through the near-darkness and blowing white flakes toward the north-west. She could feel them coming, a powerful pair, and she wondered if there was still enough time to ride out and meet them.

Blood on the snow. Fire and ash. Panicked screams and utter devastation. The clairvoyant shook her head hard, clearing out the vision. No; to meet them in the open was to die and sentence these townsfolk to the same. The best chance everyone had of survival was to sacrifice a few houses. The loss would still be difficult, but Salvarans were resilient and houses could be rebuilt.

An amber fist pounded on the first door, rousing the family who called it their home. She repeated her dire warning, herding the serfs to the safety of their neighbors, then moved on to the next house in the path. The whole town came to life around her, people grabbing food and their very most valuable possessions and moving away from the path of danger.

The housewife in charge of the second house gripped Karuka’s sleeve as she clutched her infant to her chest. Her face, sallow and sunken, looked up at the taller woman’s, not reassured by the hard focus in the set of her dark red brows and bright blue eyes. “How will moving help? We should have let them take her! Take her now and just return her! We owed the debt, there might still be time to-”

Karuka turned her eyes onto the woman. “Y’ go with yer family an’ hunker down, woman. If yer ay still here when they arrive, y’ will die an’ yer baby with y’. Get t’ yer sister’s or yer cousin’s or yer friend’s home. I’ll handle this.” Maybe it was the set of her jaw or the steel in her tone, but the Salvic woman ran off with her husband and older children.

With the attack impending, the veteran warrior motioned to her phoenix to take the sky while she hunkered down behind the house she’d just cleared. Though waiting in ambush rankled, it was better than consigning innocents to death. She had sworn an oath - even if only in her own heart - to protect these people. If this was the only way to see them safely through the dawn, then so be it.

[Rayse Valentino]

CRASH!

A large slab of stone lodged itself into one of the village’s houses. The sound echoed throughout the town, ricocheting off of empty buildings and eliciting startled murmurs from occupied ones. Standing in front of the house, Malak grinned viciously. Plumes of dust erupted from the wreckage. The blizzard assaulted the lightly-dressed man, but he paid it no mind.

Beside him stood a woman with arms crossed and a scowl on her face, "What did you do that for, Malak?! If she was in there, you could've killed her!" She wore a matching tunic, her long purple hair falling over her shoulders. A basket-sized gourd was strapped to her side. Unlike the man, she was shivering from head to toe.

Malak shrugged, "What are the odds, Sariss? You think I'm going to search every single one of these filthy hovels? Let's just gather them all up in one place and pick her out."

"We know where she lives, you idiot! Weren't you listening?!"

Malak turned to her, lowering his hands and shaking his head, "They knew we were coming. They're probably hiding her. We need to show that we're serious."

"We only needed to sneak in and take one of these peasants for that!" Sariss sighed and noticed nobody coming out of the house they assaulted. It was empty for some reason. "Whatever. Let's just get this over with and get out of here. We need to see if that red-haired moron is still here too." After a few seconds, Sariss grew suspicious, “Where is everyone? Are they all hiding?”

"No matter," said Malak, flicking the bangs from his eyes. "I’ll just start turning these mud huts into my new sculptures until the rats scurry out.” He lifted his hand again and shadowy tendrils grew from his fingers once more, hooking into the ground. The ground shook as if there was an earthquake, and before them a large stone slab ripped itself from the ground, floating in the air. He waved his hand and the slab obeyed and flung itself into another house, shattering windows and splintering wood.

The ice groaned and shifted beneath Malak’s feet, but that could have easily been caused by the tremors reverberating from the violence of his attacks. Walls of ice exploded upwards, surrounding him in a frigid, rigid embrace so tight it nearly crushed his ribs. He shouted in startled outrage, causing Sariss to whirl around toward him… in time to duck a razing strike from a set of eight razor-sharp knives.

The phoenix screamed in frustration, but wheeled around for his master, who stepped out from behind the second wrecked house. Booted feet crunched through hard, wet snow, a heavy cloak flew from her shoulders as she sacrificed comfort for mobility, and a thick red braid whipped in the wind like a furious serpent. Her breastplate glinted in the dim pre-dawn light, and a stony expression settled on her face. Even the clouds of steam that streamed from her mouth rippled around her like dragon’s breath.

These weren’t ordinary slavers destroying the town; whoever was in charge of the operation had thought enough of her attack on the half-dozen to send in a pair of strong, blood-thirsty killers. But he hadn’t come himself, as she had requested. So she would have to send these two back to him, damaged beyond useful recovery, to ensure he got her message.

Malak struggled in the block of ice, but without the use of his hands, he was unable to get free. “What the shit is this?!”

Sariss moved backwards, a hand on the gourd’s stopper. A scowl crossed her face, and her eyes darted back and forth between Malak and the red-haired woman.

“Damn it Malak!” She yelled. “You let your guard down!”

“Shut up and get me out of here!”

Sariss quickly pulled something out of her pocket and tossed it at the block of ice, embedding what looked like a dark-colored glass shard into it.

When nothing happened, she cursed, “Goddess-damn it! It’s creation magic!” The shard was a piece of magicide, known for its power to absorb magic. Karuka’s magic created tangible objects that existed without magic.

The target the assassins had been sent to kill merely walked past the man; trapped, he was no threat to her. “I’ll ay deal with y’ in yer turn.” A golden hand twirled a red and blue spear as the redheaded warrior approached the purple-haired psychopath. “If y’d come t’ talk, we might’ve talked. But since y’ came t’ d’stroy, y’ will be d’stroyed.”

Sariss glared at Karuka through the snow that still fell in thick waves. “Fine then, I’ll just take you out first!”

She pulled the cork out of the gourd, and a stream of marble-shaped bubbles poured into the air. Directing the flow of air around them with her hand, she made a sharp motion towards Karuka and sent a group of bubbles towards her.

Visions of carnage flashed before Karuka’s eyes, and she crouched down, planting Consequence into the ground and bracing her hands behind it. “RUN!” She shouted to the few lingering villagers. Eohl rippled into existence in front of her just in time to take the impact of a dozen little spheres. The bubbles collided with the shield and exploded, creating a torrent of wind and a symphony of light and heat that blew in every direction but Karuka’s. The air rippled in front of her, the shield sustaining most of the damage, but the force of the explosions still driving the redhead back and deeper into the snow. Clouds of snow and fragments of shattered wood and stone flew wildly in the violent cacophony. As soon as the last bubble exploded, Karuka let the shield dissipate and charged at Sariss, who was carefully directing bubbles around Malak’s icy prison.

A golden hand slashed a hard S into the air while light feet raced easily over slushy snow. Consequence leveled at its target, and the heavy sky rumbled angrily in the dim light.

Sariss, with only moments to react before the sky spat lightning down on her, detonated the bubbles, giving Malak little warning to close his eyes and brace himself. She was far enough away to not get obliterated, but the force lifted her off the ground and flung her into a deep snow drift nearly six body lengths away.

[Karuka]

Malak opened his eyes, feeling something crack around his body. The bubbles were mostly placed near the base of his tomb, and they weakened it enough that he could force his way out. He managed to get his gloved hand out, and the shadowy tendrils emerged again and dug themselves into the ground. Stone slabs erupted from the ground and broke the rest of the ice, and he jumped into the air, landing on one of them, his hand held out before him, the shadows controlling the stone in mid-air. “Play time’s over!” He sneered. The ground rumbled below and stone slabs burst from the ground around Karuka on all sides, trying to make her the prisoner this time.

Unfortunately for him, his opponent was fast, agile, and moved like she’d been expecting his attack. Both of her feet found the rising edge of the slab behind her, letting her rise up and free of the would-be crypt. Strong legs propelled the lean figure into a neat, arcing backflip that took her to the safety of stable ground.

Sariss rose from the white mound in the distance, anger burning hot enough to numb her to the cold and skin stinging from a legion of scrapes and burns. With the target they’d been sent to kill dancing to her brother’s whims, it would be little trouble for him to guide her into a kill box for the lavender-haired woman to explode into meat paste.

The golden face snapped up, and pomegranate lips pulled back in a roar that the howling winds carried away. A stone slab snapped up between Karuka and Sariss, forcing the redhead to abandon whatever magic she was trying to cast, and the frozen psychopath stood in waist deep snow, spinning a trio of spheres above her hand. One would be enough to take care of that pest. The other two were just to be spiteful.

A hot gust of air that reeked of rotting meat stirred behind her, enveloping her in a stinking cloud. A deep growl shook Sariss through to her bones, and she whirled around to find herself facing a pair of giant yellow eyes. She felt her heart stop at the hunger and focus of the gigantic, streamlined blue body, and in desperate reflex, she threw her bubbles at the cat and started running.

The Liviol Sanctum’s giant cat closed his eyes and hunkered his head down while a trio of explosions rocked the earth and air around his head, but he was built to withstand much harder blows than that and popped up to pursue his prey, cutting her off with easy bounds and disorienting her with half-hearted swipes that missed her tiny frame by a matter of inches. She wasn’t much more than a mouthful, this little mouse in front of him, so he was toying with her.

Meanwhile, Malak manipulated the shadows, sending one-ton blocks of shining limestone dancing around his quarry in a deadly ballet. His toys spun and pirouetted, forcing her to dance and dart between and away from them with no recourse and no chance to cast another spell or launch another attack. The ground thundered when he sent one toppling over to squash her, and though she evaded, there was always another block ready to corner and chase her. The woman with the Orcish name couldn’t run forever.

“MALAK!” His sister’s voice drew him momentarily away from the joy of tormenting some hapless victim, and he swore brusquely. A motion with his glove sent one of the slabs flying away from his dance and toward the cat chasing his sister. It impacted with the satisfying whump of stone on meat, sending the beast skidding to the ground with an agonized yowl. Unfortunately for the siblings, the attack made the giant cat misjudge his swipe. His paw, easily as broad as Sariss’s torso was long, hit her solidly, sending her through the window of the nearest house.

Karuka used the lapse in Malak’s focus to escape his maze and close the distance between them, leaping onto the floating stone he controlled the battlefield from and launching a blistering and brutal attack of stabs, swipes, and strikes. Caught by surprise, her opponent could only duck, weave, dodge and block, more focused on not getting caught by the weapon’s prevalida head than not taking hits. He allowed nearly every blow with the blunt end hit him; though the blows stung, she wasn’t strong enough to cause serious injury to his well-muscled frame.

After nearly a minute of enduring the woman’s rapid assault, the burly ruffian got lucky, sliding past a particularly vicious swipe and putting a fist into her ribcage, throwing her off his dias and into the snow, where she was at his mercy once again. A scream from on high made him look up, but he didn’t have time to dodge like Sariss had. Eight razor-sharp talons sunk into the man’s formidable bicep as easily as human hands ripped into fresh bread. The bird didn’t even give his prey time to cry out, lighting himself into an inferno and ripping into Malak’s face with his powerful beak.

Both the redhead he was supposed to kill and the teenager he was supposed to reclaim forgotten, the spiky-headed man shot a large chunk of stone at the phoenix, forcing it to disengage. Shaking blood out of his eyes, he lost his focus, causing the slab he was on to tilt backwards and knock him off. He fell to the ground, his back hitting the ice below. He desperately looked around for the woman again. Had she fled, pushed by the combined might of him and his sibling to the limits of her strength?

She had not. In fact, she was running straight at him. He tried to throw up a defensive rock wall, but Karuka slipped Consequence around and into his injured bicep. The weapon’s tip only barely met flesh, but the true attack was the surge of electricity that rushed through his body, which made him convulse uncontrollably and tore a scream from his throat.

Sariss roused herself from the remains of the table she had crashed through, a fog of dust around her and wind from the blizzard pouring into the house. Blood dripped out of her mouth, and bruises formed around her shoulders. A dull ringing echoed in her ears, drowning out all other sounds. She got up, stepping on glass shards and bits of wood, pressing a palm against her head in pain.

“I can’t believe,” she coughed. “That bitch!” She heard Malak scream and ran up to the window, putting a hand on her gourd and letting a stream of bubbles fly towards her brother.

The electric shock threatened to blow up Malak’s heart, but the bubbles came between the two and burst, sending Malak flying into the house with Sariss. Karuka crouched down and Taodoine wrapped himself around her, but it wasn’t enough, and they were sent hurtling towards the ground as well. When the winds subsided, she got up, bruised and bleeding, winded and dripping with sweat that was already freezing to her skin. Her right hand reflexively collected Consequence, and she walked through the hole the two mercenaries created. There were bloodstains and broken furniture, but the slavers were gone.

Karuka growled, and Taodoine chirped weakly, drawing her attention to him. The phoenix was charred and though he managed to perch on her shoulder, his right wing hung uselessly at his side. “If they ever show back up again, we’ll get ‘em. Fer now, let’s get y’ somewhere warm and dry.”

She helped the phoenix from her shoulder and into her arms, cradling his injured body close to her own. His warmth cut the bitter bite of the wind and snow, but that wasn’t what she was worried about. Her familiar would heal on his own after a day or two, but he would be out of any further fights until then… and the day was only just getting started. “Y’ did wonderfully, wee bit.” She traced a stylized B on the top of his head, starting to limp with him toward the nearest occupied home. The runic spell would help her poor bird heal more quickly and comfortably, but he would need at least a day or two. “But a harder fight is comin’, an’ I’ve lost my best man.”