A Reunion Amidst the Mire (closed to Karuka)

(Following the “Might of Moxie”; Closed to Karuka/Taische)

The jungle had not been kind to him, but then Dhethain in general was unpleasant. He had spent too much time already here in the Fiorair rainforest, and had plenty of days walk left to the city of Talmhaidh.

Storm was making slow pace through the forests, and as the trees grew, it became more and more difficult to navigate. It is certainly hard to follow the track of the sun in the land of constant shade, although tiny fragments of light spilled through the tree cover enough to give him a basic understanding of north. The swamp had to be close. Three long days walk with only a cask of mead, and a few dead snakes to eat felt like a month.

Why couldn’t the gods just gift me with f*cking flight? Hell of a lot of good the bolts do me down here.

His stomach screamed at him, but at least he had managed to seal the wound. Tobias Stalt had tried to help him, but was too small to carry the tall magician to safety. It was still an act of kindness, if an ineffective one. There weren’t many in all the six lands that Storm owed favors to, so adding one more would be an easy enough task. That is, should he ever escape this godforsaken isle.

Ahead of him, he saw a break in the tree line. A mucky oasis, the jungle was yielding to the swamp lands in a small clearing, a perverse coastline of tall grasses and cattails springing from water that was very likely beast-ridden.

As good a place to hunt, eat, and sleep as any.

With a smile, he dipped his hand in the edge of the water, expecting an exploratory bite. When nothing came, it was a mix of relief and fear, since his stomach yearned for both medical care and food. No matter; a deep breath and Storm clenched his fist, sending a large pulse of electric energy through the water. Two small hideous brown fish and one fat frog floated belly-up to the surface.

Gonna have to cook the shit out of these ugly bastards to keep away a case of the trots.

Within a few minutes he had a small fire going and three carcasses turning on a spit a few inches above. Dinner was served.

The wind had been blowing from the north for several days, pressing encouragingly at the backs of a tall, slender woman and her child.

When Karuka's feet stepped into the rich swamps of Fiorair for the first time in nearly a decade, an old scar on her belly tingled and a wave of warmth flooded into her body. Though she'd wandered far around the wide world of Althanas, this... this was home. She was bound to it, part of it, and it embraced her like a sister. The little waif beside her had paused too, eyes widening with wonder. Though this was the first time in her little life to meet the jungles, they were her home, too, and she could hear them singing.

Taische looked up at the phoenix on her mother's shoulder. "Do you feel it too, Ta?" The bird couldn't speak to her, but he kakked at her happily.

"Taodoine wasn't more'n a few weeks old th' last time I was here, wee bit. An' you weren't so much as a glimmer in my eye. It's wonderful though, isn't it?"

The little girl nodded, taking a few more steps into the jungle, followed closely by her mother. Just because it was home didn't mean it was safe, after all. "It's about time t' look fer a place t' settle in fer th' night. Gettin' late, an' Tao and I still need t' hunt. Where d' y' think we should go, wee bit?"

The little girl frowned, digging her toes into the loam and feeling with all her might. When she felt like she had a spot, she grinned up at her mother, shoving her thick black hair out of her face. "Over there!" She pointed and started to sprint, bounding through the thick ferns and leaf litter like there was nothing in her path.

And so it was that a small brown child crashed through into a strange man's camp, where she stopped short, utterly surprised.

Her mother stepped through a moment later, the same tall, golden-skinned redhead she'd been in Fallien several years earlier... just more mature. Her eyes widened, first in recognition, then in concern.

"Storm. What happened t' you?!"

It was easy to understand why frogs’ legs are considered a delicacy. Lean, sinewy, and just the right amount chewiness; they carried a light, pleasant flavor. Better still, when cooked the skin developed a crispy texture that made them absolutely perfect.

The rest of the frog, on the other hand, was an abortion of food. Storm forced down the rest of the terrible frog, along with the two salty fish which were slimy, grisly, and authentically horrific.

Tastes like I want my stomach to just leap through the wound. Absolutely –brutal-. Maybe that big, stony asshole should have just finished me off…

The sun was starting to fade out as he propped his back against the tree, hoping to nap or sleep or rest as long as his body would allow. His ass was wet in the swampy mud, and his core screamed at him, but fatigue was overwhelming. He began to nod, his stomach burning from the inside and skin slowly healing on the outside. Just before the early evening took him, an unmistakable voice rang through the humid air.

"Storm. What happened t' you?!"

He lurched forward hard enough to hurt his stomach. Had he poisoned himself? Was he hallucinating?

What… in… the… actual… f*ck?

His head craned to the side, rolling curiously to understand what lies his ears and eyes had to be telling him. A bemused smile crawled across his face as he considered the beautiful redhead alongside an adorable little girl. She looked like his old love Karuka; perhaps the only woman on Althanas he’d hope to avoid in this state. The only woman whom he would actually feel a sense of embarrassment before.

…Impossible.

“You… What did you say? Stay back, ladies, if you want to stay whole.”

A sneer; he managed to stand and snapped open his right hand, bursting to light with electric energy.

“It’s a vile witch to play a trick on a man out here. You could have taken me in my sleep, but that ship has sailed. Move on, sweetie… Let’s not make today your last.”

Taische looked up at her mother, eyes wide and uncertain. Her hands came up warily, but she didn't know what she was supposed to do here. Taodoine crouched on his master's shoulder, talons digging into the vlince of her shirt, wings stretched a little and ready to launch. He let out a warning hiss.

"Taodoine, éasca." The bird grumbled, but flapped to the nearest branch to be a mere observer. Karuka nudged her daughter behind her, and though both of their feet were bare and covered with muck, neither seemed to have trouble navigating the swamp. The redhead leveled her spear just a little bit, in case she couldn't talk some reason into Storm. The electricity within it snapped in response to the lightning in Storm's hand, crackling up and down the prevalida point. If he decided to let his attack fly with all his power, she'd still feel it, but not the whole brunt.

"Taische, má ionsaithe sé, cnag air amach," she instructed. "Má." If he attacks, knock him out. If.

The child nodded, never taking her eyes from the thin man's hand. "Beidh mé, máthair."

Instructions given and acknowledged, Karuka turned her words back to her old lover. "I thought y' were ay sorry t' have zapped me th' last time, Storm. Now, yer not in any sort of state t' be jumpin' up an' threatenin' t' kill an old friend. Fer one thing, y've prob'ly got enough of a fever t' not have any idea where yer aimin'. Fer another, if y' try, I'll come on over there an' make y' sit still, b'fore yer body decides it's just had enough o' yer nonsense an' takes y' down on its own."

Her free hand moved slowly to her neck, grasping a jade charm and pulling the necklace that it hung on off. A flick of her wrist sent it flying through the muggy air to him. Though it had been a very long time since he'd given it to her, she was sure he'd recognize it. "I'm real enough. D'y' not remember?" Did he not remember, her voice seemed to ask, the long, hot camel ride to Irrakam, did he not remember running through the cold desert night after a young redhead with more temper than sense? Did he not remember the night in his room, after he'd found her again?

"Breathe, Storm. I can help y'."

If it was a witch that approached, alongside the small girl and the large orange bird, the witch had done her homework. The beauty and the grace could be duplicated easily enough, he surmised, but the second language was altogether different.

That crazy jibber-jabber language… so far from common tongue… it HAS to be her. How?

Storm slowly allowed the energy to fade from his fingertips, reapplying a small buzz to his still-healing wound. This was it; he’d have to lay faith to the fates. If this couple of strangers were aggressive, they’d picked the perfect time to attack.

His eyes studied the duo as he remained speechless, soaking in the words of the elegant Karuka, alongside a small, delicate girl that joined her. The girl appeared young, and healthy; the type of simple-skinny that seems impossible as we age. Her hair was also black with a few red highlights – the black of which caught his attention immediately.

…uh oh.

No, one impossibility at a time. He couldn’t overreact just yet, drawing conclusions was dangerous. First things first; he lifted his arms to welcome an embrace.

“Karuka… is that… could that… Holy shit, tell me it’s really you!?”

Skepticism still lingered in him, as she looked up and (hopefully) considered meeting his embrace. Was it possible that here, at the edge of humanity, he had found one of the few friends he could trust? Before she could move towards him, Storm nearly bit through his lower lip, hiding the pain she could obviously sense.

“Tell me…” he began, speaking deliberately. “It’s been YEARS. Did you ever get to Alerar, like you mentioned? Did you ever sell off that ice orb we found?”

It was a simple, straightforward test. He had to be sure. This wasn’t the same weak rookie he had traveled with so long ago, but he was nearly convinced it could be no one else.

Karuka raised an eyebrow, eyes narrowing a little so she could scrutinize Storm. It was definitely him; his aura shone brighter in her True Sight than any ghost or illusion could, and no shapeshifter could duplicate the unique way he crackled. He also had a nasty black gash across his stomach. Well, that would be the death of him if it wasn’t treated properly very soon. If he was doing badly enough, that could explain why he had the details of how they met wrong.

Or he was testing her. The redhead had no illusions as to the intelligence of the people she met compared to her – most of them were far smarter. Many of them were far cannier. Few of them could call upon their environments to do her harm, fewer had more command over it than she did, and fewer still could successfully get the drop on her.

“I don’t r’member tellin’ you anything about Alerar. It’s a mis’rable land an’ I don’t intend t’ go back if ever I can help it. An’ we didn’t find any such orb. It was a wee fire egg, an’ that’s where I got him.” She nodded to the phoenix who still crouched above their heads, watching closely. “An’ no, b’fore y’ ask, she’s not yours. Would that she were, but she’s not.”

She closed the distance between them, moving through the throngs of swarming insects to meet his arms…gently. “C’mon, y’ great, silly man. Let’s getcha t’ someplace higher up an’ take a proper look at that.” Her right hand gripped his wrist and her left arm slid around his waist; he wasn’t being allowed to argue. “Taische, go on ahead a few yards. I’ve got t’ help yer Uncle Storm so he doesn’t kill ‘imself tryin’ t’ move.”

At her mother’s words, the child bounded from her semi-concealed position in the foliage. She took a moment to kick out Storm’s fire and take her mother’s spear, then scrambled up a small, muddy ledge to get to a more sheltered space between the broad roots of some ancient trees. The phoenix chattered, then flew after the child. Karuka could take care of herself, but that wasn’t always the case with her daughter.

The woman maneuvered Storm delicately through the muck, pausing once to pull a little bit of lichen from one of the trees. “Chew this. It tastes awful, but it’ll help t’ numb th’ pain. Y’ look like hell. What happened?”

A warm light sputtered into being ahead of them, sending a sweet fragrance wafting on the slow breeze – the little girl was wasting no time setting up camp and dealing with the overwhelming numbers of insects that Fiorair had to offer.

A crazed, manic smile came across him when she rightly corrected him. Only Karuka would know that they had never adventured in Alerar, and that it was a fire orb that they had secured. It wasn’t valuable enough to be famous, but too useful to be forgotten. The young girl hopped off and about to stomp out his fire; it seemed like the wrong move but he was in no position to argue.

Aside from them, the big red bird swooped smoothly to another branch on a tree just a few feet from them. Its feathers seemed to flicker as it soared; Storm considered that he might have already died and was enjoying some ethereal hallucination.

As the redheaded vixen extended her hand to help him, Storm considered that there would be far worse ends; particularly poor deaths which he deserved. He happily took her hand as she led him to the shelf of slightly drier earth.

“Karuka, my girl, you are a sight for sore eyes.” He was guided, soothed, like a boy; never more helpless outside of a fight. It had been years, and yet his edge faded from him like a blade left out in the rain. Her charm was as lethal as her magic.

Of course, her painkiller still tastes like a sautéed skunk’s asshole.

He grimaced and swallowed, craving the swamp frog remnants that he found so terrible minutes ago. Here, now, chewing the fungal formula provided, that cooked croaker was ambrosia.

Get over it.

Storm pulled at his shirt-tail out as he sat down, lifting his blood-stained dress shirt and displaying his fetid wound. As he saw it, he felt the pain blossom wildly and his concentration waver. He hadn’t forced himself to look hard at his splayed belly, and things were coming along worse than he expected. The wound, nearly a foot long traveling from right ribcage to left oblique, was seared black from his electric flame cauterization. Peeking out from either side, running the length of the tear was a deep red mark. It was the clear cause of his favor.

“Shit… infected. Looks bad. Tried to seal the sonofabitch up right away; must have been too late. I was down in the tomb, looking for an easy score and strolled right into a trap. Big rock bastard popped up… nothing nice. It’s gone, now… and all I got was this stupid blood-stained shirt.”

He laughed at himself, bemused by the reference Karuka would never understand. His left hand also instinctively felt through his left hip pocket for the ring he had found, tracing over the small hard bulge to ensure the ring was still safe.

“Do you have any medicine? I don’t know what works for shit down here. I could reopen it and burn it over again, but would probably pass out long before I can seal the whole thing. If I make a fresh fire, can you cauterize me after I go down?”

Flipping out one of his prized daggers, Storm held it in front of his face as he immediately electric-burned the blade again. It would have to be sterilized before he dared to slash away at the scabbed-over wound. This was going to be very ugly work. He was glad the girl was out of sight; this wouldn’t be work for the faint of heart.

Karuka was already taking things out of her bag as he spoke - a jar of some blue stuff, a mostly-full canteen that sloshed invitingly, a needle and thread, a knife, some clean rags. She poked at the wound, unapologetic at his pained grunt.

"Stop th' dramatics with th' 'fresh fire' an' 'reopenin' th' wound.' Fer one thing, Taische's got th' fire handled. Fer another, yer not reopenin' this. Lucky fer you, I have a healing spell, I have liviol balm, an' I trained t' be my clan's cunnin' woman from th' time I was younger than my daughter is now until just about a year b'fore we first met. I know 'what works fer shit' out here. I'm going t' open this a wee bit t' drain the infection, it's going t' hurt a lot, but I'll heal y' up an' you'll be right as rain in th' mornin'. Put yer dagger away."

He blinked, but obeyed. This was a side of Karuka he hadn't seen before. They hadn't needed him to see it before.

While he was musing, she'd already opened the flask and started soaking the needle and thread in a bitter liquid that was obviously alcohol, then poured liberal amounts on the lowest section of his wound, her hands and her knife. "Just so y' know, cauterizin' wounds can also lead t' infection, if y' don't take care of th' burn right. It's damn hard t' take care of a burn out here where it's humid. Come t' think of it, how long since yer boots were off? Gotta air out yer feet if y' don't want 'em t' rot. Lean back a little, Storm, so yer restin' against that tree, there, an' spit out th' moss. Taische!"

The little girl popped up from the brush, cradling an armful of firewood. She quickly set it down and went over to her mother, who held up her hands. "If y' please, wee bit."

Tiny, dark brown hands slid beneath larger, golden brown hands. Flame flashed, burning up the alcohol on Karuka's hands. The elder's lips tightened at the brief, tingling burn, but it was the best way to keep infection out of the wound. Even if she was healing it right up, there was absolutely no call to make a sloppy job of it. "Good lass. Give yer uncle a good swig of what's in th' canteen - don't smell it! Y' won't be gettin' any of that fer nigh a decade, now."

The scotch hit Storm's tongue, then his throat, bitter, burning, beautiful. The child was more generous with it than any barkeep would have been, and the the first good drink he'd had in days did more to revitalize him than a dozen frog's legs would have.

"Light, please, Taische."

The girl knelt on the other side of the pale, skinny man from her mother, trying to keep out of the way. Her tiny fists clenched just inches from his belly and a bright, barely-warm flame roared to life on her hands. Karuka hadn't been kidding about her daughter having the fire taken care of. She also wasn't even trying to hide the surgery from her. The newly-sterile knife slid into the swollen red and yellow wound, opening a cut barely an inch long and less than a quarter inch deep. Green ooze, rank with the scents of long-dead fish and rotting meat, immediately started flowing from the incision.

"Gyah!" Taische pulled back, face wrinkling. That was gross.

"Hold yer bile, wee bit. I need th' light. Y'll see worse'n this b'fore y' hit yer teenage years, I'd lay good odds." The redhead was using one rag to catch the pus, and another to push it from the top of the wound out to the bottom. It would be slow going; the wound was large and had been festering for days. There was nothing soft about Karuka at that moment. Her daughter's disgust, her old lover's pain, she couldn't afford mercy for either of them. There was a life at stake, after all. The moment would pass; death was permanent.

Several minutes passed, the child struggling not to breathe and the man struggling not to scream, but at last the infection was out to Karuka's satisfaction. She wiped her hands clean and tossed the rags aside to burn, then washed them with alcohol again and reached for her needle and thread. She made a few small, neat stitches, then covered the entire black burn with a tingling blue balm. Finally, she touched the middle of the scar with a gentle fingertip. Her blue eyes glowed gold, and slowly she etched a shape onto the still-tender flesh. A stylized B, a pair of interlocking wedges.

Immediately, some of the pain dissipated, and Karuka kissed his cheek and Taische's head. "There y' go. See if y' even feel it in th' mornin'. Good job, wee bit. Take care of th' fire an' water, keep an eye on him, here. Taodoine an' I'll be back soon with some food."

She grabbed a falconer's gauntlet from her pack, snatched her spear up from where her daughter had rested it, called her bird, and vanished into the forest like a faerie out of myth.

Taische pouted, striking at the pustulent rags with a burst of flame then pulling an empty clay jug over, starting to congeal water from the incredibly humid air. "I never get to go on the hunt."

There were two very different varieties of magic Storm had encountered in his travels. There were unique abilities – like his electrical proficiencies, or Karuka’s eclectic mixes and ability to heal. There were also natural magics: music, sex, drugs and alcohol all came to mind. Very few were unfamiliar to the injured mage, and his experience would tell them they came in the wrong order tonight.

Karuka’s scotch had that oaken fire to it that he had missed while traveling out here on his own. His throat squeezed it down despite the natural inclination to retch. It was smooth as whiskeys went, but still hadn’t quite taken root when the knife slid into his tender, squalid sore.

Relax. Sit still. It gets worse.

The pain was excruciating, but it was also expected and welcome. The poisoned pus oozed out in a satisfying flow; thick and olive and brutal.

“Hoo…. Shit… there it is.”

The magic was sealed with an expert hand, and he felt a wave of relief set over him. His flop-sweat, which he had thought was simple humidity, immediately began to abate. Indeed, distilleries had nothing on Karuka. After all, there was magic… and there was MAGIC.

As Karuka trotted off, leaving him with the young girl, Storm realized how real the trust she had in him must be. Even injured, people in Talmaidh would isolate Veritas as a monster based on his reputation. To see that she lay at his feet this innocent babe several years since they last met was staggering. People made fine livings by making a point of not trusting Storm Veritas.

…you have no idea what type of danger some would say you’re in, do you? Most little girls lose their shit at ghost stories of men like me. Here, face to face with the “boogeyman” and you’re just upset you can’t help fetch dinner!?

“It’s alright, honey. Based on the fire-bird that your mom just walked off with, I’d have to guess that the hunt won’t be much more than fish in a barrel, anyway.”

He smiled, catching eyes with the lovely young girl. She had shown grit, and courage, and competence. She had elements of Karuka’s beauty, with some other man’s features peppered in. It was an unexpected, bizarre tug that Storm felt looking at the girl, a paternal longing he’d never experienced. She wasn’t his; so why did he suddenly feel regret that she wasn’t?

“Besides, I can pop up a few more fish with little more than a dunked hand in the drink over there. I guess, in fairness… it’s not great eating.”

She didn’t respond, but kept laboring at the camp setup work that was decidedly a feminine instinct. She was clearing brush, moving water from the floor, and preparing water with her condensing jar. It was an attention to detail he couldn’t be bothered with. It was a campsite more quickly becoming pristine than he could have imagined.

It is f*cking awesome.

“So… “ he began, hoping to get a word from the shy cinder ella. “What brings you two out here? I can’t imagine that the Crown sent out a rescue party for me, but don’t think I’ve warranted a bounty of late, either.”

He took another pull from the abandoned scotch as he looked curiously at her. Karuka, as he remembered, wouldn’t need much drink to get the job done. This mouthful was much smoother, and danced on his tongue before settling quietly in his stomach.

By then, Taische had a second fire built. Some feet away from the first, it was bigger, hotter, less smoky, and set up with sticks for cooking meat. “That’s for medicine, not for drinking,” she scolded, sitting down and starting to peel some of the reeds from Storm’s original campsite. “Though you did eat the nasty mudfish and left the reed roots. You might be sicker than my máthair’s medicine can help.”

The child’s expert hands wrapped the roots in their leaves and stuck them under the cooking coals. Then she took one of the bare shoots to Storm, trying to trade it for the canteen, which Storm was utterly unwilling to relinquish. “These are crunchy and a little sour. They aren’t really ready yet, but I like them.”

She sat beside the lightning mage, munching on one of the other shoots. She wasn’t concerned about him being a threat if her mother wasn’t. Besides, child’s logic told her, she could take care of herself just fine. “I got into a fight in the big pyramid in Radasanth,” she explained, starting to answer his question. “I kind of won and I kind of lost. Before that, Uncle Mal’s friends thought he’d want to see me, so they took me to Salvar without asking my máthair first. He didn’t want to see me, and my máthair didn’t want me with him. I think they aren’t friends anymore.”

Little bare heels scraped at the moss, wiping some of the day’s mud away. “She thought it was time to go somewhere less crazy. She was always talking about how she’s part of Dheathain, so we came here. We’re actually going to an old castle a few days…uh…that way.” Taische pointed south-west. “But we have a compass that lets my máthair know if she has a friend near, and it found one, so we came to see who. You got lucky. You could have died.”

Taodoine flapped into the clearing at that moment, bearing a bundle of meat in each talon. Taische bounced up to grab the larger bundle and start putting the slices over the fire. Judging by the haunch in Taodoine’s other talon, it was some sort of huge, fat lizard that was endemic to the jungles. “Máthair’s getting the rest of the meat and looking around, Ta?” The bird fluffed and shook, which the girl seemed to take as an affirmation.

When the meat was on to cook and the phoenix was happily tucked into his raw share, Taische turned back to Storm. She hadn’t forgotten something he’d said. “Why would you have a bounty, Uncle Storm? Are you a bad man?” The questions rolled off the little girl’s tongue with innocence and without fear. “Are you bad like Uncle Seth, or are you bad like Uncle Mal? Uncle Seth uses bad magic and makes bad decisions, and Uncle Mal is an empty man who has fire magic and boring stuff and doesn’t like anyone. What kind of bad are you?”

It might well call into question some of Karuka's life choices if one of her friends revealed he was a criminal and her child was so casual about him just being another one. Of course... with such a notable villain as Storm gentle as a housecat with her, Karuka wasn't exactly an average woman.

The confidence of the child was quite amusing, but he’d humor her regardless. She was sweet, kind, and had that same natural caring instinct that he saw in her mother. Taische was bold, “commanding” to get Storm to ease off the scotch as a medicine rather than a healing component. Instinctively he glared at the adorable girl, but knew there would be no conflict here. She meant well enough.

“This is medicinal, don’t worry sweetheart…” he smiled and let the scotch slide down smoothly. By his third drink it was wonderful stuff, and allowed him to smoothly enjoy a very mild buzz for the first time in as long as he could remember.

Taische continued to mix about the food, cooking the little bundles delivered from the beautiful fire bird. She then asked him quite the question.

“Magic isn’t good or bad, honey. Magic is simply magic; it’s the user that makes it work for good or not. As for what flavor of bad I am…”

Shit, sweetie, that’s deeper than you think. Just because you barbeque a good field mouse doesn’t make you my head doctor. Damn…

“There are a few things that get people known as ‘bad’. Sometimes it’s disagreeing with what most folks think. Other times its just wanting more for yourself. Then there are the people with wires crossed. People that just want to see bad things happen.”

Her eyes grew a bit wider, inquisitive and a little nervous at the implications of that third variety of evil. He had met plenty that lusted for blood, and did more than lightly cross the line into areas where good people dare not venture. The fire’s light kissed his face red, and he wondered how monstrous he must look. A grin would break the tension.

“As for me, sugar… well I guess I’m a little of the first two sorts of bad. I don’t always follow every rule too closely…” …a preposterous understatement, he considered.

“…And I do what I have to do to survive and live well, and take care of the people important to me.”

It wasn’t technically false, he rationalized. Storm wasn’t a pure source of evil, although there were plenty of widows and broken families that may disagree. Still, a bit of navel gazing was something he avoided like the plague; introspection opened questions which he wasn’t very comfortable answering.

What type of man would he have been, had he been accountable to others? If there was a little one that relied on him? If there was a single woman like Karuka, one worthy of his time, might he have become a better man?

…and if the queen had balls, she’d be king.

He thought plenty but said little. They didn’t have enough scotch for a conversation, and the aged wizard knew he’d get (unfairly) annoyed by the perspective of a child.

Storm’s eyes gazed off into the mire, hoping for Karuka’s shapely silhouette to reappear. He had traveled long today, and was feeling much better. If he could rest, he’d be on top of his game with the rising sun.

“Where’s your ma, kiddo? I want to crash here but owe it to her to stay up. She’s strong now, but there’s nothing pleasant out there at this hour. With a good night’s sleep I’ll be strong again. I need to hit Talmaidh, and hope we can get there within a few days.”

We.

Oh shut the f*ck up.

Taische squared her shoulders, drawing her body up proudly. “She doesn’t need you to stay up for her safety. She’s the strongest in the world. Whatever dangerous things walk the night are scared of her, not the other way around.”

“But y’ll sleep better if y’ have somethin’ real t’ eat, instead of a few mouthfuls of frog an’ fish.” Rather than coming from the edge of camp, Karuka’s voice came from above, where she perched on a thick branch about twenty feet up. A decently sized package wrapped in leaves and a variety of fruits filled her arms. “An’ there’s more than plenty t’ see us through t’morrow.”

She dropped lightly, landing in the center of their little makeshift camp and handing off some of her things to Taische. “Was he too much trouble?”

The child thought about it. “More than Tenoch, but not as much as Yaotl,” she reported, listing off two of her Karuka’s former soldiers. She tugged on her mother’s sleeve, drawing her down. “I think he thinks he’s scary,” she whispered.

Karuka laughed, ruffling her daughter’s thick hair. “He’ll find yer my daughter soon enough. We don’t scare even when we prob’ly should. How’s dinner comin’ on?”

“It’s almost ready. A few more minutes.”

“Right. Put this under th’ coals so it’ll cook an’ stay good fer t’morrow.” The child hurried to tuck the bundle beneath the flames and get the roots out to cool.

Child occupied, Karuka went back to Storm so she could finish putting away everything she’d pulled out to patch him up. “Feelin’ any better, there?”

Although she looked nearly identical to her previous self (as he felt he’d aged twenty years in just over five), it was clear Karuka had really grown. It was one thing for the little cherub to think her mom was the walking Creator; but the way she moved was something altogether different. While she was always elegant and lithe, there was a power beneath her grace that simply wasn’t there before. Storm bit his tongue, not wanting to fan the flames of what was likely a pretty healthy ego.

“Much, better, thanks. First aid’s never been a strength of mine, as I’m sure you’ll remember. You know by now that most of us old pricks can dish it out, but not take it so well…”

His teasing smile was stifled as he realized he had sworn in front of the kid. His eyes widened in a knowing apology; he hoped Taische hadn’t heard it but knew children that age never missed a beat. Karuka’s stern eyes softened as well, as she remembered the savage her wounded friend had once been. He was trying, at least.

He could stand, if at first a bit slowly, being gentle with his tender stomach. Surprisingly, he didn’t feel tautness at the seam of his wound, nor was there heat flowing from his abdomen.

Bless this beautiful broad, I just hope she doesn’t realize how gifted she really is.

They sat around the coals and spread their food; for a campsite dinner it was a cornucopia. The fruits were absurdly good; sweet and juicy with a refreshing tart aftertaste. The condensed water was a bit scarce, but clean and pure. The meats, a series of small bites proffered by big bird, were lean, flavorful, and tender. Even the roots, which Veritas would have normally considered only as something to tie together leaf-hammocks, added a rich, healthy taste that would cleanse the palate between bites.

The three ate as they spoke, a chance encounter not squandered. The simplicity of the conversation was easy and smooth; Storm caught Karuka up upon his travels, and lent more detail to his recent run-in at the pyramid with the massive rock monster “Moxie”. Karuka shared a bit of the femme-fatales’ collective journey. There was no more depth, no stress, and no concept of time.

With a full belly, a light buzz, and a happy smile, it was very late before Storm allowed himself to drift to sleep. He was still a bit too tender to try anything forward with Karuka (who, at the flip of a coin, may embrace him or strangle him for such thoughts), but felt strangely happy with a rare, innocent encounter.

And tomorrow, you wake and go in the other direction. To Talmaidh, away from whatever godforsaken Castle they are talking about. No more friends, just a trip to pay off a death-debt to the man that sent you down to that tomb. Shit.

The trouble with a good thing is that once we are aware we are experiencing it, we spend our time dreading the end of it. As his eyelids slid together, his teeth clenched at the departing pleasantries. The next day could never match the present one.

Taische had crashed shortly after eating, curled up against a tree root, arms around her soft doll and little body covered by a gentle wing. It let the adults talk a little more freely. Karuka had assured Storm that there was really nothing he could say that would phase Taische. For most of her daughter's life, Karuka had been in command of an entire castle full of guards in times of peace, or a few contingents in times of war. She'd grown up around soldiers; she'd heard it all. She also shared the reason they were going to the castle: her daughter's manifestation of clairvoyance was different than her own, and there might be some long forgotten teachings at the old castle that could help. She also vaguely mentioned that there might be treasure, if plunderers hadn't found it all over the centuries.

Eventually Storm drifted off as well, exhausted from his long walk and battle with his injury. The redhead was surprised he'd lasted as long as he had, really. But it had been a very long time, and the more sleep they got, the less of this brief moment would be granted them to spend together. Long ago, they'd gone their separate ways; the path he'd needed to walk was far different from hers. But that hadn't diminished any affection between them.

The last up, as usual, she cleaned up camp a bit, getting ready for the morning's departure and throwing a little more wood on the smoky fire. And the morning... well. He had his path to walk. And she had hers. That slightly bitter truth in mind, she let herself get to sleep as well.

~*~*~

Dawn saw the child up, and while she let the adults sleep for a few more minutes while she grilled some of the fruits left over from the night before, that didn't last long. Of course it couldn't.

While they were eating, Taische tapped the man on the arm. "Hey Uncle Storm, can I see your lightning?"

Storm looked at Karuka, who shrugged as if to say 'what harm could it do?' As if she didn't remember. Even so, the mage obliged, holding out a crackling ball of electrical energy. Mindful of what, exactly, he was dealing with (specifically, Karuka's child), he made sure to keep the charge low. Sure enough, two seconds of extremely focused stare, then...

"B'ooof! Oooh." Taische slid back, hair standing nearly on end. The taste of copper covered her tongue, and she rubbed her mouth, trying to clear it. "Bleh."

Less than merciful, her mother erupted into giggles. "Ar ndóigh, y'd stick yer hand in it. My daughter t' th' end of y'." She laughed more at the glare her daughter gave her, opening her arms to embrace her child. "Yer all right. She'll be tryin' t' figure that out now," she explained to Storm. "Maybe she'll even get it." Family legend did say there was thunder in their blood.

Breakfast finished all too soon, and Karuka looked up at her old friend. "On yer way t' Talmhaidh, then?"

He nodded, mouth twisting grimly. "Unfortunately."

She looked at the dying embers a little sadly, then handed him some food. "Y' have long legs an' no child with y', so I don't think it'll take y' two days. There're roots ev'rywhere in th' swamp, jus' look fer th' tall shoots. This'll keep y' that long." She leaned up a little, pressing her lips to his in a gentle kiss. "Safe travels, till next we meet."

Taische, hair flattened down by some vigorous finger-brushing, hugged around his waist. "Bye, Uncle Storm." With that, she took her mother's hand and they headed off, phoenix flying above them.

As they split paths, Storm kept his composure, trying to be thankful for the moment and not selfishly miss the two ladies that marched south towards the castle. He was comfortable knowing Karuka had moved on and become a fierce warrior. The little one was crafty enough to survive, which brought a smile to his face.

Move on. It was lucky, and great, but you still have a goal.

In truth, his stomach felt perfectly fine after treatment from the two skilled healers. He still couldn’t forget that he was sent to the pyramid under false pretenses in the first place. That fat bastard port-trader certainly sent him off as fodder; who had conscripted his services was the more important answer he sought.

Storm walked well, light on his feet, snacking occasionally on some of the plum-sized oranges that beautiful little girl had warmed. He moved smoothly, skipping from patch to patch. The swamp land had enough trails to afford him dry traffic north of his feet. It was almost too easy.

The sun was just about overhead when a soft, distant sploshing sound hummed from behind him.

”Fiff-tih-fiff!!! Fiff-tih-fiff!!! Fiff-tih-fiff!!! Fiff-tih-fiff!!!”

The hell!?

A blue-flagbearer rode in his direction from the south, charging ahead on his mount. The “horse”, for lack of a better term, was some sort of large insect thing, but appeared disciplined as it strode on large feet across the watery surface. The flagbearer wore light iron armor which was matted with mud; his face flushed with red. He trumpeted weakly with lungs that could barely blow. He had been riding hard.

“Hail, traveler! Halt in the King’s name!” The bugrider was awfully formal, given the circumstances.

“Where’s the fire?! Lord, you’re in a hell of a hurry. Relax; I don’t think your boss is looking anymore.”

“Water…” the soldier begged, looking at Storm with eyes that sang of genuine fear. He had a look of death in yellow-filled eyes.

There it is. I wonder if this sorry shit thinks he’s going to TAKE my water!?

“Look down, jackass…” Storm began snidely, motioning to the swampland beneath their feet. “Now try again. Where’s the fire?” In spite of himself, Storm produced a small flask of water, which the bugrider plowed through.

“The castle… it’s under attack. It will fall today. I need to reach Talmaidh, to plead for reinforcements. Thank you, traveler; for your troubles…”

The bugrider swallowed hard and flipped a small satchel of coins to Storm. It was a bundle of between five and ten coins, and caught him by surprise. To see the flagbear charge forward with such fervor was disheartening; it was very clear that his desperation was authentic.

I suppose the port man can wait. How far did Karuka say she was from that castle?

Storm Veritas was a very fast man at full bore, but he had too far to cover at top speed. Turning his attention south, he began with a steady jog, which he felt he could keep up for a few hours, given his amount of water and fruit.

Karuka… Taische… walking into the crossfire… and you’re jogging?!

F*ck it.

His jog graduated to a hard run, and his feet pulled him hard through the marsh. He skipped quickly across the water; striding in spots through deep mud. His lungs burned, the humidity filled them with no relief. His heart beat hard as though his chest would burst. His feet and legs screamed back at each root and pit that he caught off square.

He would accept these petty injuries. He had seen war before, and knew better than to hope for a small girl to stay out of trouble.

Karuka's morning started off quietly. Taodoine always needed some sun before he was fully awake, so he weaved in and out of the canopy. Taische spent most of her time staring at her fingers, willing them to spark. She thought she'd felt how her uncle had done it, but the first hour brought no progress.

"Were you and Uncle Storm lovers when you were young?" Karuka had had three lovers over the course of Taische's life, only two of whom the little girl could remember. Her mother had always been honest about who the men were and why they were over, because she didn't see the point in hiding the world from a child who lived in it.

"Aye, we were, when I was younger. See in fifteen years if thirty is old."

"Why didn't he come with us?" A spark, static and gone. The child's face brightened in elation, fell in disappointment, then set in determination. She was on the right track!

"Wee bit, there's a thing my father called 'dharma' an' my mother called 'wyrd.' It means that ev'ryone has a path in life t' walk. Sometimes two people's paths join. I've never seen it, but sometimes they intertwine ferever. Mos' often though, they're only t'gether a short while. Then they split. That's what happened with me an' Storm. It's what happened with me an' yer father. It'll prob'ly happen with you an' whatever lovers y' eventually choose t' take. It's not bad, it just is. An' then y' can be glad t' see 'em when yer paths cross again an' sad t' see 'em go."

"Would you be happy to see my father again?"

Karuka's mouth set. "If he were still th' man I knew an' loved. But time... time changes people, Taische. Sometimes they choose t' become better people. Sometimes they choose t' become worse."

The child mulled that over in her mind for a little bit. "Dharma needs to make up its mind." Questions answered, she went back to working on her static.

~*~*~

She was getting it too, as the morning wore into afternoon. "Don't shock yer mother" and "don't shock Taodoine" each left Karuka's lips more than once. Then, jealous that his playmate wasn't paying any attention to him, the phoenix poked his head into the little girl's satchel and stole her doll, fluttering and hopping around just out of reach.

"Ta! Give her baaaaaaack!"

Karuka didn't pay much mind to the game between her daughter and her pet, even if Taische was an unwilling participant. Something was nagging at her; the scar that bound her to Fiorair itched fiercely, and the future tingled at the edge of her perception. When she reached to look at it, it vanished like fog in her grasp. Someone was spending a lot of energy ahead to keep prying eyes away, and she couldn't concentrate over:

"Taodoine! Bring her down! She'll get stung!" The shrill, hysterical whine could drive anyone mad. Equally infuriating was the phoenix, who was perched ten feet up and gloating over his prize. He seemed oblivious to the buzzing nest full of Taische's newest phobia: wasps.

"Taodoine." Both bird and child snapped their attention to the redhead. That was The Voice. "Thabhairt. Anois."

He meekly flapped down, offering the doll to Taische, who snatched it. "He-!"

"Hush! Th' both of y'! Anáil na beatha, five minutes' peace!"

"Bu-!" an icy glare killed the words in Taische's throat, and she held the doll close. She looked down at Taodoine, who had landed on the ground beside her. "You got us in trouble!" she whispered. He cheebled disagreeably in response.

Karuka stood for a minute, rubbing the bridge of her nose and trying to regain her patience. What was trying to hide from her? Time was not going to give her a good minute to look, however, as something came crashing toward them through the dense brush.

Running is a strange occurrence for those that don’t do it with regularity. There is a scare that your lungs and heart will simply burst within the first three minutes, a brutal adjustment for even the most finely tuned athlete. Fortunately, for the fit it gets better. When the lungs adjust to a new breathing schedule, and the heartbeat regulates to feed the muscles with sufficient blood, one feels a sense of invincibility.

Such was the feeling for Storm, bursting through the thick slop like he was born for it. His enjoyment was eliminated as he scoured for some sign of his distressed companions, keeping his ears tuned in for a call, a shriek, a cry. He zipped through completely ignoring the pain in his stomach, which had abated but was most certainly not absent. The swamp yielded to forest, putting him well south of where they had parted ways within an hour of his dash.

C’mon, Karu… Where the f*ck are you!? You’re at the castle already… I’m too late…

Dark thoughts. He continued forward, but it wasn’t more than a few minutes before the first monstrous caw.

“CrrrrraaaAWWWWW!!!!!!!!!”

He didn’t know what the sound was, and certainly wasn’t looking forward to finding out. His blades found their way into his palms as the thin chorus of clanging swords drew him closer to what must be the action. They were distant, but unmistakable, mixed with the braying of animals and gurgled calls of local warriors fighting and dying.

Looks like we found the party… Where the hell are you ladies!?

The dismal imaginations didn’t escape him as he closed in towards the castle. Storm had never been, but the place was easy to find. The smoke covered the forest floor in increasingly thick blanket, at first rising in a fine mist and later creating a true fog. More obvious, perhaps, was the birth of sound, stemming from thin pings and dull groans into crashes, wails and destruction. The smell of fire lingered in the air, with trees soon yielding to a thick, stone wall which was under 100 feet from him before he saw it.

Instinctively, he stayed behind the tree line, coming to a halt as he heard his breath and heart rate thumping and huffing in spite of him. He’d like to be silent, but total silence was betrayed by his fatigue. He was still keen, smooth, and stealthy, darting from tree to tree as he moved about the perimeter of the large stone wall. At some point, there would be a gate, or a hole.

…and inside, a woman and her daughter, who walked themselves into a war. Am I too late already?

The clang and clamor of battle raging inside, of mighty beasts and men screaming, celebrating, and dying alike would hide his noise. He would be undetected, he presumed. Unfortunately, the heavy smoke and chorus of warsong also hid the battle that had spilled out beyond the castle gates.

By the time he located the battle, it was clear that he had wandered into the thick of it. He began to move forward through the crowds, steering as clear from combat as he could to avoid declaring an allegiance that would identify him as an enemy.

Naturally, such a strategy was doomed to fail.

A dire boar crashed through the thick brush, snorting out breath that reeked of rotting corpses. It was made of bristles, covered in iron, and bore on its back an athletic, bald human whose face was covered by a large black dragon claw tattoo. He leered at the woman and girl, yellowed eyes and yellow teeth flashing malevolently. He leveled a huge crossbow at the redhead, ignoring the growl of her pet bird.

"Karuka ar Faylinn. Your presence is requested by Warlord Banagher dar Gavan. He's most displeased that you're late."

Karuka's hand clenched on her spear, but the man waved his weapon, warning her against it. Rustles from the brush surrounding the women threatened ominously, sending Taische scurrying to her mom's side.

"Wouldn't do that, m'lady. See, Warlord Banagher said we was to bring you in alive. However... he didn't say any such thing about the girl."

Red lips pulled back from white teeth. "Th' first one of y' t' touch th' child dies in agony."

"But can you kill all of us before she dies? Or would you rather come along peaceable, and both of you be honored guests at Castle Murchadha?"

Humidity dripped from slick leaves. Insects hummed and buzzed oppressively. The swine glared with beady eyes, and the pig he rode snored in and snorted out labored breaths. Karuka looked around, considering her options. Yes, on her own, a dozen trained soldiers and a dire boar would be an inconvenience. With no way to get her daughter safely out of the line of fire, though...

Well done, dar Gavan, convincin' my bog t' hide from me yer presence, yer army, an' th' welcoming envoy y' sent. Are y' playin' th' same game as yer father, or d'y' just want vengeance fer his death?

"Very well. We'll go t' speak wi' yer master. Any who touches th' girl gets a knife t' th' throat."

A grimy arm motioned magnanimously to the back of the boar, and Karuka helped Taische up before mounting. Consequence hummed in her hand, eager for blood, but now was not the time. Taodoine, rather than ride on his master's shoulder, exploded into the air, out of reach of the soldiers.

"If that thing's signalling someone, he's only leading them to death," came a stern warning.

"I've faced many who have thought they were sure death. D' y' see any of them?"

~*~*~

Deep into the afternoon, the boar trotted out of the forest and into a war zone. The air choked with smoke, swords and shields clanged in the fever and pitch, and the screams of injured and dying men cut through the haze. The scents of soot and sulphur competed with the clog of blood and bile. These were scenes familiar to Karuka; war had long been a fact of life on the island nation of Jalaan. They were not familiar to Taische, whose little hands and face pressed so hard into her mother's back that they threatened to burrow in.

Ice blue trickled into Karuka's irises, granting her a vision of the souls on the field, instead of all the smoke. Some laid on the ground, dim and darkening. Some raged in combat. Far away, one seemed to crackle, but surely that was impossible.

Storm has t' be halfway t' Talmhaidh by now.

Finally, something big lurked in the middle of the ruined keep. If nothing else made Karuka nervous, that did.

As they cleared the walls, Karu nudged Taische, pointing with her eyes to a small water intake tunnel. The grate was broken, so it offered a way for the small child to get in and out, but protection from the larger combattants. If only she could get there when given an opportunity.

In the middle of the courtyard, a large Drakari male stood, waiting. Combat gave him a wide berth, and his armor gleamed in the oppressive Dheath sun. The boar rider bowed to him deferentially. "We brought them, Warlord."

Karuka dropped from the back of the great pig and pulled her daughter off behind her. Her face set hard as she stared down the son of an old enemy. "Banagher dar Gavan dar Eamon."

"Karuka ar Faylinn ar Brigid. I have long awaited the day you answer for what you did to my father and sister. Where's your pet ghoul?"

"I put him in th' ground where he b'longed. An' I've never killed a man what wasn't tryin' t' kill me. If y'd asked th' swamp, it would've told y' why it wanted him dead."

"LIAR!" The Drakari stomped forward. "You stopped him on his quest to rid our lands of these human interlopers! Those who take, burn, destroy, and leave a land empty and barren!"

Ah. I've been gone too long. That's how he convinced th' swamp.

"Who's doin' that t'day, Banagher? Who's r'sponsible fer th' massive waste of life?"

"Ultimately, Tenalach? You." He drew a pair of huge swords, challenging Karuka to combat.

"Taische. Now. TAO!"

A fireball came screaming out of the sky, hovering over the child who broke from her mother's side. Taische bolted for the water pipe as quickly as she could, bare feet slapping hot cobblestone and splashing in sticky liquid that she could only pray wasn't blood. The first man who tried to cross the girl's path went down beneath the raptor's flaming talons. The second, who intercepted them just a few feet from the wall, grabbed the phoenix and brutally snapped its neck.

Taische shrieked, horrified at the pile of ash that had been her pet, and reflexively shoved a fire blast into the man's face, blinding and burning him long enough that she could squeeze into the pipe. Her assailant's agonized, enraged scream reached its peak and stopped, silenced by a steel knife that blossomed from his throat.

Banagher looked impassively at the redhead as she straightened from her throw. "Just as messy as your pet."

"He taught me. With that out of th' way... I accept yer challenge." Consequence twirled in Karuka's hands, its prevalida tip sparking in anticipation. Battle was joined.

Moving quickly in a low crouch, Storm could feel the muscles in his long, bulging quadriceps scream at him. From a sprint and pushing through the marsh, to hopping felled trees and charging ahead, he could feel his body worn and weary. His shirt clung tight to his chest as his body was slicked with a sheer layer of sweat, and his hair matted close against his head in thick sprays. He was tired, but wildly alive with excitement in the moment.

As he continued to scramble around the perimeter for the gate, he was surprised at how easy he was able to move. Warriors of all sorts were confused by him, but seemed to preoccupied to engage. He looked like neither friend nor foe, and by refusing to make strides directly at any singular group, he didn’t present a threat. His eyes scanned the battlefield for errant arrows first, staying well clear of engaged soldiers or mounts. He scoured for Karuka, Taische, or the gate. Despite a failure in finding his recent traveling companions, it was only a few minutes before he came upon the large, arched structure which opened and spilled into the courtyard behind the walls.

Finally. Now where the hell are you, ladies?!

Unfortunately, this opportunity also forced him to commit to moving forward, marching on the gate and appearing the role of assailant. Three large soldiers happened to be moving out through the gate, some thirty feet from the orifice when they set eyed on the thin, lone mage.

Shit. Gonna have to get my hands dirty.

There were no words; the group of three raced towards Storm in unison as he was the next logical target. Militia, they wore heavy leathers about their bodies and each swung a single longsword opposed a standard buckler. Unfortunately, they also donned a triumvirate of heavy, iron helmets.

Sorry boys. At least it will be quick.

He raised his hands, pointing daggers towards them as they charged. The leftmost and center soldier were his focus. The men were sprinting with fire in their eyes, an unbridled confidence which underscored their failure to understand the situation. He inhaled deeply, soaking in one full, wet breath of the smoky air before all hell broke loose.

“Ssssaaaaaaaa!!!!!”

He leapt, firing massive arcs of blue-white energy from the tips of his daggers forward. A tiny thunderclap smashed through the air as he ushered in the furious assault. Each beam fired with brilliant, horrible precision, striking the two respective skullcaps with a sizzle-snap. The bodies immediately went limp, but the momentum carried the completely unresponsive carcasses hurtling forward some six or eight feet. The mighty Veritas landed slightly behind the bodies, viewing as the burning hair and fast-blackening flesh became a crumbled black tar-ash within their tiny metal tombs.

Turning his attention to the third defender of the realm, Storm peered his now white-hot eyes directly at the back of a terrified boy-soldier, who decided not to wait around to check on his nearly headless brothers-at-arms. He glowered; the wild wizard had no sympathy for total cowardice.

Let it go; you KNOW she has to be inside. She –has- to be.

Action around him had screeched to a halt; Storm had made quite a scene. Fortunately, it appeared he had interrupted a lopsided duel; from 50 yards away he could see her unmistakable crimson hair, and that she was lined up against someone enormous and angry looking. They both had turned their heads quickly to the sound of the thunder, but it was a half dozen or so confused soldiers that looked to their general.

“Go!” the massive general snarled, disgusted by their collective cowardice. “Lose the helmets, and take him out!”

It was incredible. He had found her, hopefully found them, After everything that the group had been through, they were reunited at the core of this seemingly senseless battle. However they had been roped in, he would get them out.

And with that, the terrified young fighters began to drop their helmets as the exhausted Storm Veritas charged forward once more.

What in Great Hel’s name is he doin’ here?!

Either Storm had gotten severely lost on the way to Talmhaidh, or he’d somehow received word of the violence unfolding at the castle and decided that they needed protection. It was actually a little sweet; men like Storm charged into danger for so very few. But he was already exhausted and facing fresh troops; Karuka wasn’t sure he’d be able to fight for very long.

He’s ay gonna need some help.

No sooner had Banagher ordered his troops forward than he lunged for his nemesis, forcing her back with his superior bulk. His two gigantic falchions ripped gouges into the stone where Karuka had just stood. Chips flew, grazing his blackish green scales and bouncing off Karuka’s vlince shirt. He growled, pulling himself up, but that gave his foe time to make a gesture. A wave of water rushed through the air, crashing into some of his forces and leaving them sopping. But they kept forward at their Warlord’s command, splashing through the puddles toward the lightning mage.

Karuka darted away from a second attack, now forced to give full attention to the seven foot mass of muscle that wanted her dead. She’d done all she could for Storm.

“Stop running, weasel.”

“Keep up, turtle.” Dar Gavan attacked again, sending a powerful pair of eviscerating swipes at Karuka’s midsection. Instead of dodging, the redhead stepped forward, sliding neatly under the huge swords to deliver a shocking stab to a well-armored shoulder. The hulking Drakari stumbled back, fangs bared in fury.

“Don’t think, girl, that your twig will bring me down.”

“Gavan dar Eamon, your father, named this spear on th' day he died. He called it ‘a weapon of great consequence.’” Smooth red wood spun like a leaf in calloused hands, dirty feet slid over cracked cobblestones, sharp eyes watched for an opening or an attack. “B’tween yer uncle’s an’ yer father’s actions, yer family lost a lot of honor. But nothin’ y’ do here t’day will help restore that. Killin’ me changes nothin’. If y’ call a stop now, no one else has t’ die.”

Banagher growled deep in his throat, hocking a noxious ball of slime at Karuka’s feet. His falchions gleamed murder. “Foolish, weak human. There will be no surrender, no parlay, no peace! Your bloodline will pay for its crimes against mine. I will tear you open and devour your beating heart! Then I will hunt down your spawn, rip open her tender fl-”

A feral roar ripped from Karuka’s throat. In less than the blink of an eye, she was on him, unleashing a blistering barrage of brutal blows on the Warlord’s hands, feet, and forearms. She seemed to move at the speed of thought; wherever he swiped or stabbed, he was meeting empty air or an expert block.

Meanwhile, the number of blows she was landing were adding up. His limbs burned like they’d been stung by a thousand hornets. Occasionally a strike from the lightning-forged tip exploded an injury into agony. Banagher howled in fury, slashing harder and faster at the crimson blur that was on him. If he could land even one blow, the fight would be over. No frail human frame could survive his raw power. But not only was the little mammal quick, she seemed to anticipate his every move. Even before he’d fully committed to one swing, she was out of range of the next, hailing down blows wherever she could reach.

As his strength flagged, his guard faltered. Rapid blue blows flew at dar Gavan’s face and core, each touch of the crackling prevalida point sent electric stings skittering over his scales. When he managed to block the frontal attacks, she whipped the spear around and turned them into hard hits on his legs or flank.

Shame and rage roiled in the Warlord’s gut. He’d been driven to the defensive by a creature whose teeth and claws barely functioned. Had his father and sister felt the same? He drove her back with a brutal dual slash, trying to force enough space to go back on the offensive. He opened his mouth to roar a challenge to her, only to find himself flying backward, feeling like his skull had exploded. His eyes met the sky, and he couldn’t seem to grasp his weapons or find his feet.

Breath coming hard and fast, Karuka slowed down when she knocked Banagher to the ground. Rules of the duel prohibited any magic not inherent to the weapons, so she’d taken him down with sheer speed and skill. Normally that would be the end of it; the loser would yield to the victor and each would go their separate ways. But if she let the Warlord live, he’d corrupt the bog like his father had. He would threaten her and Taische as long as he lived. She couldn’t allow it.

Her spear whirled above her head and she stepped forward, an emblem of finality…

“STOP! One more step and the child dies.”

Karuka’s blood turned to ice in her veins. Held in the pig-rider’s arms with a machete to her throat was her terrified daughter.

Taische had huddled close to the grate, trying to ignore the cold, slimy water she crouched in and pretend that those were definitely cute little fish nibbling on her toes. Her breath came in sharp gasps and hot tears streamed down her face. There were people dying, Tao was dead, and the bad guys wanted to kill everyone else for no reason.

Part of her wanted to hide in the farthest back corner, where it was safe. The larger part was morbidly curious. She’d never seen battle up close before, other than her admittedly foolhardy venture into the Citadel. She’d only ever seen her mom use staves in training, and had never watched her attack uninhibited. She danced around the big dumb lizard man like she was a bird and he was a snail. The primal fury was hypnotizing, and the lightning that arced across the battlefield left gruesome paths through men and smoke alike.

She was so busy watching the fight that she failed to notice the figure approaching. A rough hand lunged into her hiding place, grabbing hold of her and hauling her out. She shrieked, kicking reflexively, but only found herself restrained with something sharp to her neck.

When the dirty man yelled, everything stopped, and Taische saw an expression on her mother’s face she’d never expected: helpless horror. There was nothing Karuka could do that would be quick enough to take out the pig man without also hurting or killing her child.

Taische’s fingers dug into the grimy arm around her neck. He was going to chop her head off, everything would go fuzzy black, but she wouldn’t wake up like she had last time. Her eyes squeezed shut, trying and failing to keep back terrified tears. Could she do anything?

If she tried to suffocate him, he’d have lots of time to kill her. Same if she tried to punch him with some water. If she burned him, he’d curl in. That left one thing, but she hadn’t had more than a little bit of a spark all day.

If yer gonna die on th’ field, fight wi’ yer last breath.

Her mother had said that to her soldiers before they went out to war. This was her last breath.

So she breathed, filling her lungs with air that reeked of blood and ozone. She dug deep, finding the spark and the pathways. She felt where her fingers met skin. And she let loose.

The man screamed, more startled than hurt, but his grip loosened enough that Taische could shove herself free. He swung at her as she scrambled away, opening a nasty gash on the back of her leg, but she was already bolting for her mother.

The lizard man was starting to rise between them, and Karuka’s fear turned to rage. Consequence plunged down into the scaly head, leaving a twitching corpse.

The loud greeting Storm had offered the group reared itself as a moment of silence and opportunity. Karuka had seized the moment perfectly, teeing up the oncoming enemies with a splash of water that left them incredibly vulnerable. Moving forward quickly and decisively, Storm suddenly planted both heels in the ground. Quickly sheathing his daggers, the mighty wizard called upon the remainder of his magical essence. His body shook as he fired a mighty blast; white-hot electric light spreading from his outstretched arms in few tendrils that hit the group as one.

Come for THOSE ladies? Friends of MINE!? Burn, you sorry sons of bitches. BURN!!

The water did most of the work for him; white light and current hopped back and forth across the spray of water in a tangled, buzzing web across the six men. The lightning was magnified by his fury and the conductive medium, allowing him to fell the group. The two central men felt the foremost brunt, dying instantly. Lowering his hands, Veritas witnessed the other four fall in heaps of either shock or seizure. Live or die, they were incapacitated, which gave him all the window he would need.

One more charge. For Karuka, for Taische.

Storm soldiered forward, and watched as Karuka killed the lizard man, and Taische sparked her way out of the giant man-boar-pig’s grasp. She was a fast learner, and he gleamed with pride. Moving into a slow jog, his legs ached and begged for mercy; the hop in his step was completely gone.

“Fat boy!! Over here!”

The large pig creature turned to the mage, rearing a massive machete as our thin anti-hero approached. With a quiet, certain confidence, Storm continued to move forward.

That blade is too big, too clumsy. It’s already over, fat-ass. You f*cked with the wrong bull today.

The machete came down in a fast but predictable path. The machete was precise enough, but also a quick dodge as Veritas hopped off his right foot to the left. Fatigued, the Pig-Man couldn’t pull back in time for Storm to close in off his right shoulder. In a flash, the wiry mage hopped up, the gleaming titanium blade again at the ready. It cut quickly, cleanly, and deep; the blade cleaved a smooth path through thick and gristly flesh and what would be the carotid artery and jugular vein on a human. A hot knife through butter, and he was done.

Storm leapt backwards off the chest of the heaping pig, somersaulting gracefully back over himself and landing in a tidy crouch. The dagger dripped a thick puddle of oily black-red blood upon the cobblestones beneath him, as secondary evidence his strike had been true.

The huge porcine soldier reflexively grabbed at his throat, as if the rapid slash was somehow reversible. He pressed hard, his eyes wide with a wild rage and confused anger as blood spurted wildly through desperate fingers. Sad, helpless, fearful… they were all the marks of a doomed man. The mighty pig had been reduced to a child state; ignorant to his own previous sins as he tried to plead a final request for mercy.

The group stood and watched as the leader of the militia forces fell, his body looking skyward as his skin grew pale and a pool of blood emptied from his deep neck wound. In the end, the monstrous creature was no more dangerous than a baby lamb, and likely signaled the end of this pointless battle.

Any lingering combatants recoiled under the glares of the redheaded warrior and the black-clad lightning mage. Any capable of standing prudently turned and fled; with both the Warlord and his Lieutenant slain, there was no more order amongst the attackers. Distant, dim sounds of fighting still reached their ears, but for the moment they were safe.

Karuka crouched to tend to Taische's wound, and the little girl pressed her face into her mother's shoulder, trying to banish the sights of blood and death and the scents of burned flesh and entrails from her mind. Her body shook from the close call. Karuka leaned back, not granting her the comfort, but keeping a hand on her arm to give her support.

"This is what combat looks like, Taische. This is its cost. Don't turn from it. Some of these men had families, jus' as I have you. They'll never see 'em again. Some that live'll be crippled fer life. None who walk away will be th' same. It might be yer firs' battlefield, wee bit, but it won't be yer last, an' I'm ay sorry fer that. But y' need t' be able t' look at it, accept it, an' learn that life goes on."

"I want it to be the last one. I don't like this." The little girl flinched as her mother finished tying off the bandage and cast the spell that would mend it over the next few hours, instead of the next several weeks.

"I know." Karu rubbed her daughter's shoulder, looking over at her old friend.

Taische wandered over to Storm, carefully picking her way over the least bloody patches and favoring her injured leg. When she reached the tall man, she tugged on his sleeve, drawing him down to be more on her level. When he knelt, she threw her arms around his shoulders, ignoring that he reeked of sweat and blood. "Maybe you're a bad man, Uncle Storm, but you can be the hero sometimes, too."

Karuka put a hand on her daughter's head. "I'm glad y' came, Storm."

The quiet lasted only a moment, then a dark growl and some deep cracking sounded from the crumbled center of the keep.

"Taische, go wake up Taodoine."

The little face turned upward, confused. "But Ta-"

"He didn't die so badly that he shouldn't be fine right now. Get 'im up, Taische." Karuka's eyes focused squarely on the ruined keep, ignoring her daughter's perplexed expression. "An' then get t' th' safest place y' can find."

Obediently, the child limped off for the pile of ash that had been Taodoine, and Karuka held out her hand to help her weary friend to his feet. "This isn't over yet. Worse is comin'."

She glanced at the sky; in a contrast to the clear morning, it was overcast. It was enough. "Tell me... d' y' believe that turnabout is fair play, Storm?" She raised her left hand to the sky, which rumbled in response. He'd shocked her to death once in the Citadel. It hadn't really been his fault, and she'd never held him accountable.

This wasn't nearly the same, either. Lightning was his domain, and what she was about to unleash on him would help instead of harm. She was really just warning him to brace himself. Her hand cut the air in a brutal, jagged slash. The sky spat its fury, launching a white strike at its target.

Weary from battle, relieved at the safety of the entire group, Storm found himself completely bewildered by Karuka. He had hurt her in the Citadel, but it was lifetimes ago. Water under the bridge, time heals all wounds, a stitch in time…

No, seriously what the fu..

”BOOOOM!!!!

A thundercrack screamed with raw power as Karuka summoned a bolt from the skies. Small, yet mighty, the staggered stepping lightning seemed to follow her command, traveling from the heavens above directly into the wizard. The sheer power of the thing knocked him awry, disorienting him. His entire body felt like a bruise against the blood-stained cobblestones, spraying wildly across the ground like discarded trash.

Holy shit… who taught her that!?

Standing, Veritas felt a bit overwhelmed. If Karuka, once a delicate lady he had protected, could also summon lightning, it rendered him somewhat useless. He was nothing more than overlap, a walking redundancy. Was there still a place for him here?

No sooner did he begin to soak in the sulking morass of self-pity than he realized the hair on his arms was standing on end. His fingertips buzzed, eyesight sharpened, and heart pumped with a steady, strong thump. The lactic acid which had accumulated in his legs even receded, leaving him fresh (if very sore) as he stood. The feeling was unmistakable.

The feeling was POWER.

“Hell of a trick, honey, not sure where the hell you picked that one up.” He looked at her with a bizarre mix of emotions. He felt some elements of pride, self-confidence, and fear as he looked at what a mighty warrior she had become. She looked the same, but O’Sheean had grown in ability and power like a flower sprouting from spring earth.

He reached upwards, stretching and indulging himself in the surge of power that pulsed through his veins. He felt supercharged, (if that was even a thing); with hands over his daggers he could feel his belt sagging, his newfound ferocity repelling the metal with a touch of terrifying autonomy.

“Next time, feel free to give me that goddamned turbo-shot before a fight… I feel like I could take down an elephant right now!”

He smiled as he stepped to make contact with her; a first direct signal of affection since hell had broken loose. No sooner had he stepped forward than the skies were shattered with a second deafening roar.

“CrrrrrrAAAWWW”

There was only one creature upon all of Althanas that could make such a thunderous roar. Despite his resurgent power, Storm wished against his own better judgment that the unmistakable shriek came from something other than a dragon.

A giant black claw grasped the ivy-covered wall at the other end of the courtyard. The thick green tapestry shriveled at its touch, and Karuka, hand raised to cast another spell, went pale. Here at the crux of Fiorair and Luthmor, her strongest magic was that which weaponized the plants themselves. But with them rotting away on contact with the dragon, that was less than useless.

"Right...so... y' take an elephant sized chunk of 'im, an' I'll get th' rest, then?" Karu's mind raced. Without a raging thunderstorm, her own lightning wasn't nearly as powerful or versatile as Storm's. Her fire was weak in the oppressive Dheath humidity. Water? Perhaps, but dragons were hard to drown and even mixing in all the power her specialist friend could muster, it wasn't likely to do very much. Wind?

Wind, maybe. Rad and Jara were a combination that made a mess of everything in the spell's path, but it could be notoriously hard to control. If her damned phoenix would just rise...

CRACK!

"Malchadan!"

The wall collapsed with a mighty push from the massive beast, sending waves of dust and rubble billowing out into the courtyard. Its rough scales devoured all light that touched it, and it regarded the open courtyard with disdainful intelligence, with avarice and hunger. It was a predator, and they were barely worthy to be its prey.

"He," Karuka mentally corrected herself. The bony protrusions on the beast's face marked him as a male, and his size marked him as a young adult. His kind were sacred to the native Dheath races, and if she didn't miss her guess, he'd come of age, gathered followers, and tried to grab himself a territory. That he'd snagged the son of Gavan dar Eamon let him warp the Drakari's mind into getting him a lair, likely by promising sweet revenge. His presence had also been what had shielded Banagher from her Sight; dragons and their machinations were nigh-exempt from the gazes of mortal diviners.

The brute opened his maw, unleashing a grating, rumbling roar that shook Karuka's organs and bones. She clenched her teeth to stop them from rattling in her skull. Under foot and all around, the stones started shifting as solid earth turned to sludge beneath them.

When the dragon's roar died down, Karuka roared back. It was as much reflex as plan; every instinct told her that when faced with a predator, she had to stand her ground and challenge back. It was a larger sound than her body should have been able to contain. It was absolutely feral, an animal sound, not a human cry.

Dust and smoke swirled and curled around and above her, and within a minute, a giant cat took form. His fur was pale blue, his rosettes were almost purple, and he smelled of the sweet, cool rain from the sea off Scara Brae. He stood taller than three men. His fangs could have passed cleanly through a deer. His roar joined the human's beneath him, challenging the dragon. He looked down at her, yellow eyes looking for instruction. At a tilt of her head, he pounced, meeting draconic snap with a vicious swipe of his claws.

"Taische!" Her voice cut through the clash of monstrous beasts to the pile of ash and soot her daughter was still prodding at. "Fháil amach as na ballaÃ*!" If the beast got a chance to change much more of the earth beneath the foundations, the walls would come down. She needed her daughter away from them, preferably well out of the keep. "Storm, we've only got th' cat a short while. Get t' where y' need t' be t' get this thing down."

The dragon was smaller than Moxxilus had been, but probably even more dangerous. He probably stood a “mere” twenty feet tall, but had wings that would block the sun, and had deceptively long limbs flexed beneath him, and a tail that could offer a devastating whip-like effect. A dragon has no clear weakness, they are just huge, daunting piles of strengths.

The cat which emerged opposed him was nearly as tall and plenty ferocious, despite wielding the appearance of a monstrously overgrown spotted housecat.

Perfect. We’re taking on a dragon with a f*cking glorified kitten.

He was being unfair, of course; the cat was ferocious and howled a deep roar which would be blood-curdling if not for its absurdly imposing opponent. The two big beasts snapped at each other; it was a fine distraction.

Storm scanned the behemoth rapidly, looking for something… anything he could use to incapacitate the thing. This was no short order.

Back covered in scales. Head covered with… teeth. Tail… no. Belly is soft, but too low to the ground. How do we get this big bastard on his back?

His teeth clenched… a second or two burned away as an eternity. His eyes spotted a small hope; a few thick tendons which tethered the wing, hidden silently about the massive slate scales that comprised the shoulder.

He sprinted about the right side of the dragon, jumping wildly in the air as he assaulted the flank. As a reflex, the dragon turned a moment, lifting a wing in hopes of flipping the warrior away like the bothersome fly he was. Still riding the sail of his lightning charge, Storm sailed cleanly over the tip of the wing, his feet nearly six feet from the ground. The wing still batted him, but with his momentum it just served to bounce him toward the thing’s sweeping back.

With no time to waste, Storm planted both feet upon the lower spine and leapt once more. Both of his daggers were at the ready, and he slashed with all his might in a hard scissoring action at the tendon holding the gigantic lizard’s left wing.

Yessssss…..

The blades sawed through sinew with a clean dueling cleave, spreading with it a bundle of tendrils, and a pulsing fountain of thick, black blood and viscera. Storm could only relish this satisfying cut for a fleeting moment, as the mighty brown beast reared with the force of one hundred horses. His floor now vertical, Veritas scrambled with his blades to stab the great dragon in the back, desperate to create a new handhold. When his daggers found no purchase, Storm slid, banged, twisted and fell to the ground beneath the goliath.

What he saw generated more wild action, but not without his intelligent articulation of the situation.

“Ow, f*ck! Shit! Oh, no, shit, no!”

Another thunderous roar, but the wing was horribly damaged, and swung limp behind the great dragon, rendering him hopelessly off balance. Discombobulated, down fell the great beast, in an awkward, ungainly tumble atop the fast-rolling body of Storm Veritas.

The titanic monster was belly up and vulnerable, if only for a few moments. Beneath him, somewhere, Storm Veritas was completely obscured from sight.

The ground shook at the dragon's roar, sending once-stable stones sinking into muck. Portions of wall that had stood for almost a thousand years cracked and crumbled, lacking the support they'd had for centuries. Ancient dust billowed into the air around the dragon and its carnage, joining the smoke and ash of battle.

The great cat, guardian of the Liviol Sanctum and Karuka's old friend, wasted no time in taking advantage of its gigantic foe's vulnerability. It pounced, fangs grasping the thick neck to cut off circulation and sharp rear claws tearing into the soft belly. Rivers of black blood rushed from new wounds, but no viscerae spilled; the creature's abdominal muscles were too thick and strong.

Karuka's breath stilled in her lungs while her eyes probed the broken ground around the titans. Storm had hit the ground alive and conscious; she'd heard him swearing. But had he been out of the way when the dragon fell? She could see the ancient pulse of the cat and the churn of the dragon, but she couldn't see Storm's crackle. What had he been thinking?!

And what was Taische thinking, still at Taodoine's ashes?

The wall beside the child cracked and started to crumble, but before the redheaded warrior could run to pull her child to safety, a blazing bird erupted from the ground in front of her, grabbing each arm in a mighty talon and exploding skyward. The cloud of dust barely brushed his tailfeathers, and he set his little featherless sister down beside her mother, gleaming with pride.

"Th' hell took y' so long?!"

Taodoine hissed. He'd come back from death just in time to rescue Taische, and that was the greeting he got?

Karuka pointed toward the battle, where the dragon had forced the cat off its belly and was gouging at his eyes, while the gigantic feline bit down on the reptile's throat for dear life. The magic that had brought him was fading; soon he would be gone.

Taodoine took Karuka's meaning, launching from Taische's shoulders and lighting himself ablaze, sweeping a swirling path for the downed dragon. Karuka's hands made a pair of swift symbols - a stylized R and a pair of interlocking wedges. Then she spun Consequence in front of her, faster and faster. Screaming winds spun out from the spear, catching the phoenix's fire and slamming into the bloody belly as a fiery horizontal tornado.

The cat vanished.

The dragon screamed and writhed, lifted up and launched backward a few yards by the fury of the combined assault.

When the spell had run its course, Karuka planted the butt of her spear in the ground. The beast, still alive, looked around. Its mortal servants and worshippers were scattered to the winds. Its intended lair was in ruins. It was badly injured.

But the fight was nearly over.

Slowly, it rolled back to its feet, snapping at the flaming gnat that attacked its eyes. Its head lowered. Its mouth opened. And it gathered up for a final, devastating roar.

Usually, a long and violent fall such as followed closely by silence. Dust clears, and then Storm would typically push himself up, dust himself off, and slowly, painfully, drag himself away. There would be the formality of assessing injuries, being ridiculed for clumsiness or heralded for heroics, and then there would be a deep, welcome breath.

Today there was no such luxury available for the veteran. The big beast’s contortion brought it right back upon Storm. For all of its size, it was a mercifully rolling fall, it’s body weight being spread upon the floor in a thunderous crash. Cobblestones and earth moved below and around him, offering plenty of incremental pain. The body itself still felt like a swift-moving steamroller bearing down on him, however had it fallen in a flat heap, the story of Storm Veritas would certainly have ended here.

“Grrnn… mmmheerrr…”

The attempt to speak failed with thanks to Storm’s broken ribs and partially collapsed lung. He couldn’t identify which ribs had broken under the pressure of the great scaled beast; it certainly felt as though it must be all of them. Above him, a flurry of activity forced his attention.

Feel the pain later. Save your own ass NOW.

There was a booming sound, and a shrieking, all the while dark above Storm whom was shielded by the enormous size of the dragon. Another shriek, and the great lizard turned, rolling off him and pressing away. The pain was incredible, white-hot and his first move was to spit out a full mouthful of bright red blood. He turned, but just to press his hand to the ground forced a wild scream of pain. Any upper body movement was fiery pain. Previously unregistered pain checked in from his right leg.

Storm did what he could, which was to push his body forward hard off his left leg. He pressed his foot to find a stone, and toed it wildly as he kicked hard. He managed to propel himself a foot, perhaps two. Another kick and slide, another foot. He was frantic, like a dying cat limping meekly off a horse-track. He kicked furiously, pulling himself away in spite of a blanket of agony that wrapped herself tight.

Ahead of him, he eyed Karuka and the girl; they appeared none the worse for wear. Aside him, two more tremendous booms resounded as the dragon brought its great front feet down again. The lightning mage rolled to his back, again kicking mostly with his strong leg. Although heavily wounded, he still felt a power from his hands, and he began to charge for a return blast.

"Storm!"

Surprise, disbelief, triumph, joy and concern all crowded for space in a single, grateful syllable. How he'd survived the fall and the crush was beyond Karuka, but it was a miracle she would gladly accept. However badly injured he was, if he was alive, she could fight to keep him that way.

Her attention snapped back to the dragon, whose labored inhale preceded another roar. If she let it go off, it would be devastating. Her hand raised to cast a spell, but before she could unleash it, a bolt of white, burning fury flew from Storm's hands. It bounced between the beast's stalactite-like teeth, then shot up into its skull, turning its brain into a useless collection of goo.

It reared up again, body thrashing uncontrollably in its sudden, seizing death. Then it fell, collapsing one of the last walls. Its gigantic tail spasmed, on a collision course for its killer, going too fast for his devastated body to dodge it.

He flinched, eyes closing involuntarily, but the final blow never landed. When he looked, Karuka was standing over him, spear held in front of her like a ward and a shining dome of force blocking the dragon's last attempt at vengeance. She must have moved like lightning herself, to have covered the distance in such a short blink.

After a few seconds of the redhead straining to keep her barrier up, the body settled, the great tail slid harmlessly to the ground, and deafening silence descended on the ruins.

Karuka breathed out a deep sigh. Her own muscles burned with weariness and her heart thundered in her chest, but she wasn't nearly done yet. There was a life she couldn't let go.

"Taische!" That was the only thing said to her daughter, because the girl hurried over to grab her mother's bag and everything she'd need out of it.

She knelt in the muddy rubble by Storm, scribing the healing rune onto his white and purple forehead with her thumb while cradling his face between her hands. She needed to keep him stable so she could actually treat his injuries; this wasn't some simple gash. "Y' beautiful idiot. I thought we'd lost you."

She smiled, relieved and worried, and gently opened his shirt so she could inspect the damage. The lung would need the most of her magic. The leg was dislocated and broken; she could handle that. The ribs could wait a minute. She wasted no time in offering him the shaft of her spear to bite down on and getting to work.

"This'll hurt like nothin' else, Storm. But don't y' dare die on me now."

His blast had found a home within the awful thing’s mouth, and the direct nature of the strike was both pure and horrendous. Dragons were unquestionably magnificent beasts; for all of their illogical hatred of any perceived intruders, the death of one would always make Althanas a less magnificent place.

Karuka had saved him, as there was no doubt that his life had laid in her hands. Had the tail fallen clearly, he had absolutely no energy left for dodging the massive sledgehammer of scale and meat. She whispered a sweet and peaceful warning that went unheeded; the ringing in his ears reduced her words to a hum beneath the buzz.

“It’s okay, babe. Do your worst. After all that bullshit, I think I’ll be able to survive.”

His words were full of the typical blend of braggadocio and ignorance that she knew him for, but the look on her face gave him the real warning. What this would do was going to Hurt. He bit the wooden spear she offered; it didn’t have much give for him.

Oh shit. At least this one won’t kill me. His optimism was remarkable.

Her mouth seemed to mouth the word BORK, which didn’t make much more sense to him later when she would explain it as Beork. Her accent was always cute, but this treatment was a long walk from adorable. Her hands lay on his chest and glowed pink, a heat like fire passed through his chest.

Reflexively, Storm’s back arched and teeth dug deeper into the shaft of the spear. Perhaps one day Karuka would find some charm in the teeth marks left permanently embedded in the handle area; right now there was nothing about the process that was in any way appealing, endearing, or likable.

“Grrnnnggh! HGHHGHGHHH!!”

His words were less than tremendously effective as he plead for mercy through the heft of the stave. A sweat broke on his forehead, his heart rate elevating quickly as he writhed in agony. The BORK as it were felt like a pulsing stream of hot acid passing through his chest, flexing the broken bones and straining the injured lung. It was a sustained hell.

At first, he presumed his heart was failing. Fortunately, it was the body’s natural reaction to shock and stress. The body relaxed, he breathed deeply through his nose, and his heart rate fell again like a stone. His skin quickly grew cold and clammy, sweat on his brow now feeling like rain on a summer day.

Next, the ever-heroic Storm Veritas passed out upon the cobblestones, unable to cope with the pain.

Karuka cringed at Storm's screams, each one cutting through her like a knife. If it were within her power to alleviate his pain, she would have, even if it meant taking it for herself. But though he cried for mercy, she didn't stop the magic. She couldn't. If the magic stopped - at least for the first two applications - he would die.

It was as much a relief to her as to him when he went unconscious.

She cast the spell five times, as powerfully as she could manage. Each time, energy flowed out from her core, down her arms, and into his chest. It radiated out, flooding damaged tissues and bringing them back together so that they would heal better, stronger, healthier. The treatment from the night before had been a favor for an old lover, almost selfish in the doing. He was one of a few people she'd traverse the globe for, if they needed. His was one of the few voices she'd charge into Hel behind. His was a heart she wanted to keep beating.

This time he'd appeared from nowhere and nearly died for her safety and that of her daughter. He'd been an idiot, charging up a dragon like that, but a magnificent idiot. This time... this time, she owed him this much. Because as transigent as his love was, it was steadfast where it was real. And her affections, though brief by their nature, were not fickle.

She stopped pumping magic into him when she was all but drained. Sweat soaked her hair and dripped off her nose, and not just from Dheathain's sweltering environment. Her vision swam a little, and despite sitting with her hands planted in front of her, her body felt like it was tilting oddly to the right. But she wasn't done yet.

Already vultures swarmed the scene of battle, converging on the feast of corpses. They wouldn't hesitate to add the unconscious mage to their feast if they had a chance, and she didn't want Taische to linger longer than necessary on the field of the dead. She needed Taische to be able to accept the inevitability of death, but she didn't want her to be traumatized by it.

Carefully, the redhead pushed herself to her feet, taking a deep breath to help her head stop swimming. It was a breath she regretted; between fire, lightning, old gases getting pushed up from the softened ground, and bloody corpses, the air was noxious.

Where's th' boar?

~*~*~

Less than an hour later, Taische helped her exhausted mother move Storm into the sheltered thicket where they'd be spending the night. Her camp duties were simply fire and water that night, since her uncle wasn't awake and her mother was too tired to be hungry. She wasn't hungry, either. That was death, up close and brutal. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. She didn't like it.

Inside the quick shelter, Karuka wiped Storm's face with a clean cloth. He was already looking better, though he'd still need a day or two to recover. He was cold to the touch, but after that much trauma she wasn't surprised. She'd stay with him and keep him warm.

She ran a gentle hand through the unconscious man's hair, noting the silver that had started to streak through it and the lines that had started to appear on the sharp-featured face. A bit of a smile touched her lips, and she settled in to rest. "D' you have any idea just how much I love you?"

He woke in a cold sweat, a slow, uncomfortable emergence in the thicket-camp beneath his former love.

Former? You f*cked this one up pretty good. Based on Taische, I’d say she’s moved on well.

The putrid stench in the air didn’t hit him hard; he was too focused on the pleasant visual stimulus before him. He glanced about; carrion birds were picking at the massive dragon that would feed them for weeks. Rodents of various sizes had also begun to lay claim to various felled soldiers and beasts. Only the scavengers never lose wars.

For all the ugly about him, there was a deep, natural beauty he could never deny that held him in the reeds, her very being generating a sense of protection and warmth. Her presence also bought him a few moments of pleasant reprieve before the pain grabbed at him again. Surprisingly, it was different now, entirely different. Where he was once broken in half with a dense series of sharp pains, his entire torso felt a sort of taut heat. He strained to breathe, as if Karuka’s embrace was constricting his lungs. There was also a numbness, which he didn’t know if he should attribute to shock, some level of paralysis, or something worse.

Fortunately for the confused wizard, he could move with some slow contortions. His stomach muscles strained as he pulled up a few inches, and he was confused by the lack of pain that should be flooding from his lungs and ribs.

“Sweetheart, I don’t know if you went and killed me or not, but if this is Valhalla, Elysium, or wherever, it’s an awfully strange place.”

She smiled back at him, a tired relief in her eyes. Had he been out for minutes? Hours? Days? He’d hoped that he’d not held her and Taische back for too long. Their paths had to split, as miserable as the thought was.

He thought of the traitor of a trader at the dock, the man that had sent him to Moxxilus in the first place still had to be dealt with. It would be unpleasant business, and he didn’t want the sweet little warrior to witness it.

She can’t come, and you can’t wait. How long has it been now since that sonofabitch sent you down here? Two weeks? A month? You’ve got a few days walk back north in front of you; for all you know he could be half-way to Alerar by now.

“How long have I held you ladies back? I don’t know what you did, but I feel a lot better…

“You know, for as many times as you’ve saved my sorry ass, I really won’t need a babysitter anymore. Get that little girl to safety.”

There was no response, and he wasn’t surprised. His comment was genuine, but stupid. Taische was many things, but vulnerable didn’t make the cut on that list.

He sat up just an inch or two more. There was concern in O’Sheean’s face, knowing full well that Veritas should not be moving much. It was an easy tell to read. His left hand still reached up to cup her tiny jaw with calloused fingertips, feeling a tingle at the deliberate contact. His eyes held hers, a deep and knowing gaze the two warriors understood too well. She had saved him many times, in many ways, and he felt a childish blend of giddy adoration and admiration for her.

“You make a goddamned fool of me, you know that?”

She smiled again, this time her soft lips spreading to reveal beautiful pearl-white teeth. Her eyes softened a moment, perhaps sensing the stupid thing he was about to do.

Screw it. You know she won’t kill you.

He sat up a few more inches to kiss her, and felt a magnificent, star-spinning buzz as their lips met in what he hoped wouldn’t be his last kiss.

It was like returning to an old favorite place and finding that every last drop of magic remained.

His taste on her lips, heady with the barest hint of bitterness. His scent in her nose, the smell of earth just before a heavy rain overlaid with exertion and agony. The feel of him under her hands, firm muscle, more sinewy than bulky, and a strong heart that still beat, despite all his injuries from the day before. The hand that cradled her head, twining into her thick red curls and locking her into the kiss. The shivers that followed his fingers up her side. The weight that guided her slowly, gently down into the soft ferns they'd slept on.

She bit his lower lip gently, slowly dragging her teeth over it, grinning at his sharp intake of breath. He turned her head when she released him, more passionate than gentle, attacking her neck with his lips. Everything faded for the reunited lovers, lost in long-missed touch, savoring the sleepy dawn.

They hadn't yet managed to remove any clothes when...

Cz~z~zjap!

"Awck!"

"Taische! Cad a rinne mé insint duit inné?! Don't shock Taodoine!"

A grumble answered her, and she put a hand on Storm's cheek, letting out a frustrated sigh. The child was awake, their opportunity was gone. He sat up slowly and a frown crossed Karuka's face. "Storm, our business isn't ay so urgent it can't wait another day. An' yers..." still prone, she ran a hand up his side. "Y' can spend three days hobblin' through th' marsh, healin' slower an' only feelin' better on the fourth day, when y' finally reach Talmhaidh... Or y' can spend a day here, with us, an' walk well fer three days. Maybe a little less."

The redhead sat up, and their eyes turned from the dark thicket to the bright clearing at the sound of a giggle, where a phoenix was teasing a little girl with some kindling. "I met her father in Fallien," she volunteered, answering thoughts he hadn't voiced. "Things happened along th' way. We parted on good terms, he an' I. I thought he'd take what he'd gained an' go on t' be a great man, but when I found him again after gettin' back from Kebiras..."

Karuka sighed, pulling a twig from her hair. "He'd become a monster. He neither has nor desires a place in her life, an' if I'd had my way, he'd not know of her at all. There's not anyone else. Not now, at any rate." Karuka made her lovers no promises when they parted ways, and asked none in return. People of destiny had roads to walk, roads that insisted on taking and tangling lives, then pulling them apart again.

She leaned in to kiss him again, gently but longingly. When it broke, she reached for her water skin, which she offered the dehydrated Veritas. "Stay, Storm," she murmured, tracing gently along his hairline. "It'll cost y' no time, an' th' child sleeps soundly at night. Just a day."

It had been a long time since Storm had felt the genuine, primal, reckless fire lit within him. As soon as he felt her impossibly tender lips press against his, her fingertips tracing the skin of his back beneath his shirt, it was over for him. Karuka had awakened something primal in him, almost predatory, and having brushed so closely with death, the feather-soft skin wrapped perfectly about her athletic frame was simply too much for him to bear. He had been with a few since his last encounter with Karuka, but brothel wenches and over-served tavern travelers were but appetizers for him now.

Naturally, the interruption should have been expected, but still triggered an ire that he had not remembered.

Taische, screw! You’re a wonderful young girl, but interrupt us like that again and I can’t promise I won’t skin you alive…

He laughed under his breath in spite of himself. Curiosity was perfectly normal and healthy for the young girl, regardless of his almost manic desire to stifle it. His mind was now single-tracked; the trader who had sent Storm on a fool’s errand was an ephemeral memory, lost in the twisted trail of time now. His focus, his obsession was on Karuka now. Touching her, kissing her, taking her.

Karuka’s words would only a day ago have kept him rapt; the details of her previous relationship held information that was very valuable to him. At this point, he struggled to pick up anything but basic details, instead measuring her in his mind with a keen eye, studying her every inch. It was amazing how quickly she moved on from their embrace; he reasoned perhaps the fundamental difference between men and women was the female’s ability to quickly segregate themselves from such a state.

Couldn’t imagine flipping the switch like she does.

Her words were carefully chosen, alluding to the way the little girl slept. It was an obvious tip that only further heightened his frenzied interests. A grin spread devilishly across his face as she mentioned it. His day would be spent as a carrion bird, waiting for the day’s life to drain from the sweet girl so he could feast on the delightful meal that had completely stolen his focus.

“It’s a good idea.” he began, making careful contortions to avoid standing and displaying his excitement at the prospect. “A day’s worth of healing, and I’ll be move with better speed; it may even save me time in the grand scheme.” He twisted his body as he sat up further still to drink the alarmingly clean, cool water. He was relaxed now, free to move without fear of alarming the girl. He kissed Karuka once more on the lips, his hand tracing down her spine and quickly over the curve of her ass. It was a measured, darting move, fully intentional and keenly out of sight from the little girl.

He pivoted quickly, another fiendish smile as he noted her eyes wider than before. He would be relieved to know he wasn’t the only one who had to “suffer” a tease through the course of the day. Finishing his turn, he addressed the early-rising little lady.

“Taische! What’s for breakfast?! Can’t disturb an old man like that without waking up the belly! Do you have any of those green-orange fruits that ‘Tad-Oo-Eeen’ brought us the other night? I’m cooking; let me teach you savages a thing or two.”

In moments, breakfast was cooking, a bubbling pot steam-cooking suspended fruits and vegetables. The three sat in stark, horrid contrast to the war-ravaged battlefield still within eyesight, but their minds were in very different places.

Storm Veritas began what he would later consider the longest, slowest, best day of his life.

"Savages, Veritas?" Karuka murmured into his ear before he left the thicket. "I'll ay show y' savage." She could only grin at the reproachful glare he shot her. Lust still burned hot within him, and adding tease to temptation was a particular brand of cruel. And she wasn't anywhere near done.

Instead of the sturdy vlince shirt she wore while traveling, she changed into a thinner, lighter silk top. The vibrant turquoise only covered her chest, revealing a toned core, a glint of silver in her navel, and a network of scars she hadn't yet earned the last time Storm had seen her body. As far as Taische was concerned, it was cooler in the stifling Dheath heat. As far as the dark-haired man was concerned... well.

Naturally red lips frowned at the sight of the battlefield; it had been her intention to move them past that. With her own exhaustion dragging at her the night before, she simply hadn't managed. A sharp gesture with her left hand, the spell Thorn, called a wall of brambles to erupt between their camp and the grisly sight. It was something.

After breakfast, Taische led the way to a broad, shallow stream she'd found the night before, largely oblivious to the subtle flirtations of the adults behind her. Once there, Karuka encouraged her daughter to practice what magic she knew. If she couldn't exhaust Taische with the day's long walk, she had to find another way to wear her out. The sooner, deeper, and harder the child slept, the sooner the two lovers could finish what they'd started.

She wasn't sure the shirt wasn't working as much against her as it was for her. He had safe, easy access to her skin, and the tingle beneath his hands when he touched her could have as easily come from the depths of her own anticipation or from him running just the slightest bit of charge through his fingers to tease her. Turnabout was fair play, after all.

Morning passed, turning to afternoon. Taische's energy peaked during the heat of day, which meant Karuka had to prioritize caring for her daughter over tormenting her lover. She set up a target and worked to teach Taische how to throw knives, since it gave her valuable skills, let her move and run, and gave Storm a chance to finish recuperating.

By evening, the lingering healing magics had worked their way through the lightning mage, leaving him hale and refreshed, free of the pains of the morning. Dinner was light; vegetables Taische had found nearby and some sort of meat that Taodine had caught and brought back on his own. After they'd eaten, the bird and the girl spent some time playing one of those silly games that come intuitively to children and pets. It felt like an eternity to the impatiently waiting adults before the child finally, finally went to sleep.

Every flirtatious touch, every teasing glance, every promising tone, every moment of burning desire was brought to fulfillment amidst the soft ferns. Storm, naturally, hadn't lost a step, and Karuka, more experienced than she'd been at eighteen, had much more to offer him than she had in Irrakam. When their embrace finally broke - this time from exhaustion and satisfaction instead of interruption - she laid in his arms, breathing him in along with the clean night air and gently trailing her fingers over the scar on his belly.

They'd have to move soon, maybe have a quick wash in the cold stream. They'd definitely have to put on some clothes; Taische would wake well before they were ready. But soon wasn't now, and she wasn't yet ready to relinquish this dizzy, breathless, beautiful moment.

The refractory period is very likely a man’s moment of ultimate clarity, the only waking moments during a man’s adult life where the desire for sex is completely washed away. Here in the grass, protected only by a flimsy bramble magically generated thorns, Storm smiled and gazed with love at his beautiful conquest. Karuka made him a –different- kind of happy, something more whole and fulfilled than other women. She was strong and brutal, but soft and feminine. A true peer, in a world where he found so few.

But now’s not the time for happy endings, and you know it. There is work to be done back at Talmaidh, and it’s not work fit for little girls like Taische. You’ve already overstayed your welcome.

His finger continued to trace lazy circles around her shoulder, a warm glow still shared between the two, whom had both worked up a light sweat in the humid Dheath air. They held their embrace a daringly long time, knowing the girl could wake and walk in at any time. Eventually, they quit while ahead to swim in the dark water. Karuka had to convince Storm of its safety, and did so through an example-leading dip.

It wasn’t long before they were joined by the prodigy, who rose from a deep sleep with an incredibly placid demeanor, which was offset by hysterically wild hair.

“Well, good MORNING, sunshine! Looks like someone had a good night’s sleep! I thought we’d have to put a mirror beneath your nose to check for life!”

And I absolutely f*cking guarantee you that you had the worst night of the three of us.

He shot a glance to Karuka, who seemed to understand the joke well with a knowing smile. They were nude in the water, save a few scarce undergarments, and Storm didn’t think of the massive scar across his stomach. They were collectively comfortable together, happy for the familiarity and company. The inevitable parting hung over Storm as a thick grey cloud.

Karuka spoke to Taische in that local dialect, inviting the girl to join in the water. The language was some bizarre, twanging compilation of yips and clicks that he couldn’t begin to understand, but the underlying themes were simple enough. Karuka was clear with her direction and discipline, whereas Taische was bright, athletic, and predictably mischievous. More clear was the obvious love between the two; an unspoken bond which rang through the air as clear as day. That they adored each other gave Storm some relief, as he certainly wasn’t abandoning incapable people or leaving them helpless in the marsh.

They played without care, Storm launching the girl in the air to come crashing down with a mighty splash again and again. The three laughed wildly at the exchange a few more fleeting moments of simply joy.

It’s time. It’s passed time, and you know it. It’s time.

The nagging itch in his brain was right, of course, and it pained him to bring it up as they dried off. For their wild, incredible adventure, it was clearly time to part ways. As he stood at the shore, allowing the water to drip-dry from his newly-chilled flesh, he squatted to open his arms to the little one.

“Time for you’re ‘uncle’ to pack up shop, kiddo. Git’ here and give the old man a hug, will ya?”

His face was smiling, and despite the bittersweet nature of the parting, he was relieved to feel some semblance of love returned from the sweet child as well. Their connection was simple enough, but not so deep as to make the split genuinely painful.

Splitting paths from Karuka, however, was much more difficult.

Taische zapped her uncle when he let go of the hug, showing off just how much she'd learned in a short two days. Her mother started to correct her, but Storm just laughed and ruffled her hair, reassured once again that she'd be just fine.

Karuka kissed him when he stood, holding it just a few moments longer than a simple peck due a friend. When it broke, she slipped something around his neck - a softly glowing orange feather affixed to a piece of string. Her fingers smoothed it gently over his chest, drawing out the last few seconds they had together.

"Safe travels, until next we meet." She already knew he wouldn't have them. She knew that the road she would travel with her young daughter wouldn't be free of its trials, either. People of destiny attracted trouble like an open bowl of beer attracted slugs. Storm would probably find himself in trouble again less than a day after reaching Talmhaidh. She wished him safety, all the same.

"An' next time y' see a dragon, try not t' teach it how t' roll over while yer standin' on its back." A wry, rueful grin, a last, quick kiss, a torturously hard step, and then he was just a black silhouette against the varied greenery of the jungle. A few moments later, and he was gone, leaving a woman and her daughter to clean up camp.

"Let's get started, wee bit. We've burned a lot of daylight already, and we've a long way yet t' go." Karuka bent to pick up her bag, shooing Taodoine when he tried to reclaim her shoulder. "You have been too big fer that fer some time now. I'll not have y' diggin' int' my neck while tryin' t' ride my shoulder. Yer a big boy now; it's time y' made yer own way."

The phoenix grumbled, but took a perch, waiting to see which direction his women would go.

"Does he know?" Taische piped up as she finished putting out the fire and cleaning up the site. "That we'll be going back on the same boat?"

Karuka smiled warmly, putting an arm around her daughter's shoulders, turning them in the opposite direction of the city-bound Veritas. "Not right now. Th' future's not a gift fer ev'ryone t' see, an' it doesn't always unfold th' way we'd expect. I imagine he'll find out when we tell 'im."

Two pairs of bare brown feet made their way for old ruins in Luthmor, leaving a tiny clearing on the edge of Fiorair devoid of life larger than a shrew. Birds sang, shouting their dominance and virility. Grasses grew, straightening up from being lain upon. And a wind blew from the east, stirring leaves, reeds, and a few ashes from a lonely fire.

Story – (19/30) Overall the story is fairly simple, though you do include some more complex elements than one would expect. This does not, however, leave the overall arc convoluted in any way, and in fact enhances the reader’s appreciation of the overall story. The twists were there, the background was there, and there were some touches upon the site’s canon. The setting... could have used a little work, honestly, and was probably the weakest area you guys had. It wasn’t bad, just somewhere in the middle.

The pacing was good, right up until the duel. That particular conflict seemed a little rushed, but it didn’t hurt your score particularly badly, especially considering that this thread seemed to be more driven by the characters than it was by this particular conflict.

Overall, a good effort, and I enjoyed it immensely.

Character – (23/30) This was by far the strongest area for both of you as authors. You show us, through action, word, and thought, just what kind of people that Storm, Taische, and Karuka are. You show the reader specifically what they are about, what they believe, and most importantly, who they are almost flawlessly. The only real advice I can give to either of you is to keep working on making these characters as three dimensional as possible. Like any character, they seem to have further to go before they fully mature as people (an activity which literally takes a person their entire lifetime, so no point docking there). All in all, bravo!

Prose (19/30) There were some typos and a couple of mechanical mistakes on the mechanics side. It was, however, always perfectly clear what was going on, and the techniques used, the foreshadowing of something larger being behind the Draconian, the beautiful illustrations of simile and metaphor... All of these came together wonderfully in terms of making the actual writing shine. Storm, after your first few posts, which were obviously (coming from someone who’s been there, and recently) you knocking off the rust, you began to shine as the writer I remember from back in the day.

Wildcard – (6/10) I greatly enjoyed this thread, and it was an honor to read something written by two of our most skilled veterans. I look forward to continuing to read your works, and to working with each of you in turn more often in the future, if time and interests allow.

Total Score: (67/100)


Storm Veritas receives 3,337 EXP and 242 GP
Karuka receives 3,190 EXP and 228 GP
Taische receives 251 XP and 27 GP

All EXP and GP have been added.