Sisters of the Storm_Triad

by Guy Estes

  "Ah, Sister dear. I'm so pleased you could come."

  Aleena was in no mood for theatrics. The innocent blood he’d spilt and his lies had washed away any love or pity she’d felt for him. Indeed, her feelings for him had gone far in the other direction. She had presented her true self to him, but he had presented a lie to her.

  That Anlon never existed, Baezha had pointed out. Therefore, neither did your relationship, and you can’t lose something you never truly had to begin with, can you?

  He continued talking.

  "Well, what do you think?" He gestured at their surroundings. "I have done well, have I not?"

  “You are,” she said with frozen contempt, “without a doubt, the most pathetic son of a bitch it has ever been my sorry pleasure to know.”

  Anlon’s smile fell as he stiffened. She huffed out a quick laugh of irony as she slowly shook her head.

  "To think I actually spared your worthless life."

  "You held me up for public humiliation and used me!"

  "I gave you a chance to learn from your mistakes, but instead of learning and growing, you’ve tormented everyone around you as you’ve tormented yourself. Now you hide in your magnificent fortress, where you can sulk and pout and do anything but face yourself!”

  "Don't lecture me, you spoiled, pampered little bitch! What could you know of my pain? How could you put a price on my suffering?"

  "Anlon, neither I nor anyone else owes you a damn thing. I gave you a second chance, and you squandered it. That fight was your idea to begin with. I never had any quarrel with you."

  "You dared to defeat me and use me and think I won’t answer that?"

  “Defeat?” Brona spoke up. “Spared your life? Anlon, what is the meaning of this?”

  “Who are you?” Aleena asked.

  “His mother.”

  “Ah, are you indeed?” Aleena said, a wicked smile lighting her face. “You mean he never told you the tale? Did you not know what your son was doing?”

  “Anlon…”

  “It was nothing,” Anlon said.

  “Nothing?” Aleena taunted. Rather than spare him, she now had an overwhelming urge to wound him as deeply as possible, and her gift immediately spotted a weakness to exploit. “Oh, come now, Anlon! You’ve worked so hard for your reputation! Don’t be bashful now!” She looked at Brona. “He never told you he had a sister Chosen? I met your son in the arena. I was forced to be a gladiator, but he volunteered. He fought and killed for public amusement, and he enjoyed it. Then we fought, and the great champion you spawned – who, by the way, had some very choice words about you – was defeated. I sliced his backside open and knocked him senseless. I should’ve killed him… but he is my brother. I had no wish to slay my brother, but I’m sorry now I didn’t. If I had, I would’ve spared many others his lunacy.”

  Brona looked at Anlon, her dour face cold and harsh. He did not look at her.

  “You were defeated?” Brona asked. “You were bested at something you are supposed to be master of? By this… this hussy?”

  “Hussy?” Aleena protested with a cocked eyebrow.

  Crushing silence smothered the place.

  “After all this time,” Brona went on, “I still cannot hold my head up high. Even after I poisoned Auron and cleared the way for you, you lacked the gumption to take what was yours. You just stood there and let Cahir take your place on the throne. Cahir was never defeated by his inferiors. Cahir would never have –“

  Anlon's golden blade swept up, and Brona's headless body fell. He snatched her head off the floor and held its face above to his.

  “Are you proud of me now!” he roared at her. “Am I not worthy of your praise! Am I not loved! Am I not a worthy son! Is your godsdamned head held up high enough now!”

  He sobbed as he threw her head to the floor. Then he turned his gaze, red and glassy from tears, onto Aleena. A blinding flash of lightening jolted the amphitheater, to be followed by a mighty peal of thunder.

  "Now, Sister,” he hissed, “I shall finally have peace. I’ve rid myself of her contempt. Now I’ll rid myself of yours.”

  Aleena sighed and shook her head. Then she drew Firethorne and slung the sheath as she started towards him.

  "Well, then I suppose that's fine with me! I tried to help you, I spared your life when you had no intention of sparing mine, and you have somehow found a way to be insulted by this. You complain about the hostile monkeys, yet instead of rising above them you’ve become their king. So, by Nevawn’s claws, if that is how you want it, so shall it be!"

  Aleena had gained the floor and was striding towards him. Lightning flashed and thunder boomed.

  "So shall it be!"

  Firethorne flashed and removed a lock of Anlon's hair as he avoided a lethal swing. Then he was forced to sidestep as the enchanted blade came down for his skull. Anlon kicked her knee, and Aleena blocked it with her sword. His leg should have been lopped off as if were nothing more than a sausage, but his enchanted armor was every bit as durable as Aleena's. His sword swept up at her face. Aleena ducked and ripped her blade up between his legs, but was stopped by the tassets skirting his hips. His boot kicked her in the face, and she fell on her back. Anlon's blade stabbed down at her, but she shoved it aside and swept his legs out from under him. They rolled to their feet at the same time.

  And so it went; attack, block and counter, all accompanied by the growing fury of the storm. Both warriors were extraordinarily gifted, and both bore arms of equal power, so neither of them could gain the upper hand. They were two siblings of the storm that spawned them trying to overcome one another. Their attacks, primarily thrusts to pierce armor or slip through its joints, penetrated each other's defenses fairly often, but the magic armor they both wore shrugged the blades off as if they were water. Both were gripping their weapons in the half sword, meaning one hand was on the grip while the other held the blade about halfway down and the weapon was used like a short spear.

  Anlon's attacks were steadily gaining in speed and ferocity, driving Aleena back. Aleena normally sidestepped an onslaught to prevent an enemy from driving her towards a trap, but such was Anlon's speed and skill that he prevented her from doing this, and all she could do was back away. The tip of his blade shoved her back as it failed to penetrate her armor, or his pommel would smash her face and stagger her. She was driven past the columns until, with one last pommel smash to her face, she felt an electric jolt as her back foot settled onto nothing, and she realized he had driven her off the edge of the tower. Anlon made one more attempt to remove her head as she fell back. Aleena blocked, and the force of his blow sent her spinning out into space. The next stop, she saw, was a wide ledge fifty feet down. As she plummeted she stared into her brother's face. She lost sight of it only when she hit the ledge and blacked out.

  Anlon watched Aleena slam onto the ledge, then he returned to his small arena and let the cheers of his fans wash over him like a cleansing bath. He walked around the arena with his arms held high, feeding off the shouted praises. He was lost in time and space, knowing only that this was his hour. The splinter had had festered in his soul these last years had finally been drawn out. He would be able to sleep at night. No longer was there anyone to challenge him. Yet even as he had that realization, Anlon felt a twinge of regret. With this obsession gone, what would he do with himself?

  The silence brought him out of his reverie. His followers had stopped cheering, and they were staring at something behind him. Dread washed through Anlon in a nauseous wave. Whatever was behind him, he instinctively knew, was a threat of far greater magnitude than any he had ever dared to contemplate. He turned around.

  She was there. Aleena stood before one of the giant braziers, the firelight glinting off the satin polish of her armor and highlighting her honeyed hair, some of the tresses stirred by the wind. A long, dark shadow loomed before her, one that was outlined in red firelight. Wicked forks of lightening danced in the crimson sky behind
her, their light slashing through the place. The great voice of thunder, like barrels rolling down stairs, shook the fortress’s stones. She was tall and capable. She was beautiful and terrifying. Firethorne was in her hand, and he could see her armored shoulders rising and falling with the steady rhythm of her breathing. Her large grey-blue eyes looked into Anlon's wide green-gold ones. He had heard it said that the eyes were the windows to the soul. If that was true, the windows he now peered through looked in on a storm made human. Anlon briefly wondered if his sister was, in fact, mortal. He had thrown her from this great height where he had defeated so many others, and yet somehow, for the second time in his life, he had failed to kill her. What was she?

  Whatever Aleena was, she was striding towards him, her sword gripped in her supremely capable hands. Then her blade was raining down upon his skull. When he parried Aleena smoothly transitioned to the half sword and smashed his face with her pommel. Pommel smash, thrust, grappling, tripping and throwing; Anlon could not strike back, for he was too busy trying to survive Aleena's assault.

  "You want a challenge, maggot?" Aleena growled through clenched teeth. Flashing lightening highlighted her enraged expression. She had his arm in a joint lock, his body bent over and his head facing the stone floor. "I'll give you a challenge! You think just because you had a few personal tragedies the world owes you something?"

  "I claim what is mine," he cried.

  "Since when is my life yours?” she raged, punctuating her question by smashing his face to the floor. He rolled aside and dodged her thrusting blade, which pierced the floor stones. He got to his feet and tried to put some distance between them as Aleena continued. “I wanted only to go my own way. After I sliced your backside open I never wanted to see you again, you miserable bitch's whelp!"

  "How can you say that? We are two of a kind."

  "Which you want to destroy! And I am nothing like you. You are nothing more than an irresponsible little bully who could not handle an erotic dream, much less the power of the Chosen! You were given a rare and wonderful gift, and this is what you’ve done with it! You presume to master the world when you cannot master yourself!"

  Aleena trapped his blade with her cross guard and slipped up close to him, until her gleaming eyes mere inches from his, and hissed, "So how could an impotent little savage like you expect to master a force like me?"

  Her bulbous pommel smashed his jaw into splinters and sent his teeth clattering away like castanets. Firethorne descended upon his left shoulder. There was a flash of blue sparks as his armor was penetrated. His pauldron and enough flesh to render the arm useless were carved off, the enchanted metal clattering against the floor and the meat landing in a shapeless pulp with a quiet smack. Anlon's brain knew what had happened, but his consciousness refused to accept it. Firethorne's tip screeched across his belly, leaving a trail of sparks and rubies as blood oozed out of the long gash. The two champions stopped, then, and watched Anlon's blood slick his armor. Gusting wind swirled through the amphitheater. Lightning flashed like Nevawn’s sword. Thunder cracked like Crewahk’s doom. Anlon could no longer deny what was so painfully obvious – his armor had been penetrated. Once again, Aleena Kurrin had drawn his blood.

  Aleena resumed her attacks. Anlon defended, but it was pure reflex action. Aleena swung with every ounce of strength and passion she possessed. Anlon blocked, and Firethorne struck his blade like lightening. There was a loud clang and a brilliant flash of light, and Firethorne continued its swing. Anlon cried out. His sword blade had been removed. Only about four inches remained. The rest had clanged onto the floor. Firethorne still danced in Aleena's grip, glittering and lethal. Yellow vapor oozed from the break in Anlon's blade, accompanied by orange sparks. He dropped the remains of his sword, backing off and looking at it as if it would jump up and bite him.

  Aleena lunged forward to thrust, Firethorne held in the half sword, her eyes locked on her target and her mind and body focused. Firethorne's tip pierced Anlon's armor in the middle of his sternum, skewering his heart and punching through the armor on his back. The force of the blow staggered him and sent him to his knees. Aleena released her sword to draw Shearbat. She let Anlon get a good eyeful of the axe's glossy black blades. Then she swung, the big blades passing through his neck as if it wasn't there. As Anlon's head tumbled from his shoulders, Aleena gave Firethorne the command to ignite.

  She cleaned Shearbat before sheathing it, and when Anlon's body was thoroughly awash in flames, she withdrew her sword and applied it fiery blade to his head. Then she turned to face the audience.

  They watched in stunned silence ever since their idol had fallen, unable to comprehend what had just happened. One of them rose and charged Aleena. Firethorne hit him in the belly and sheared him in two. She then drew Shearbat and hurled it into another one. He hadn't threatened her, but Aleena was tired of being charitable to her enemies. If they wanted a fight then, by Nevawn’s claws, they could bloody well have one.

  One of them withdrew Shearbat from his wrecked companion with the intention of using it on Aleena, but he slammed it into his own skull. In the space of a few seconds, Aleena had managed to slay three of the ten men without taking a hit herself. The remaining men thought a tactical withdrawal was in order. Aleena let them run away. She was suddenly enveloped in exhaustion. She only wanted to go home and go to sleep, but she still had to see about Baezha.

  CHAPTER 27

  Mathias labored up the stairs to the storehouse where he'd placed his lab rat. Her figure should be considerably rounded by now. He was anxious to see what her mental state was. Would she be crying hysterically and begging for release? He hoped so. Nothing gave Mathias the pleasure that dominating and crushing spirits did. His hands were trembling with anticipation as he unlatched the door. He entered and closed the door behind him, then looked at his captive. She was sprawled among several spilled foodstuffs. He could clearly see that her clothes were stretched over inflated thighs and shoulders. Her shirt failed to cover an engorged belly, and her pants were on the verge of splitting across her broad backside. Her angular face had disappeared within numerous chins. Her eyes were dull and glassy as she stared into space. Mathias was a trifle disappointed to see that she had gone catatonic.

  He shrugged. Entering her spirit would be easier now than it had been before. He projected his essence over hers, covering her swiftly, and his tentacles rapidly took root within her spirit. He hurtled past all of her thoughts, for he was familiar with them and they no longer held any interest, and headed straight for the mass of light that was her gift. His progress came to a sudden halt. What had happened? Had he become snagged on a stray thought?

  Suddenly, each of the channels his roots occupied in her spirit sprouted hundreds of black barbs that sank into him. He tugged and pulled, but he could not withdraw. Then he saw his lab rat looking at him, her appearance fully restored. She stood before him, tall and magnificent, and her eyes, like black ice, looked into him.

  "Mathias, my boy, you have made a horrible mistake," she told him. Then she gave him a wicked smile.

  * * *

  The storm had disappeared. The clear sky was seared red in the west where the sun was setting. Aleena had just reached the top of the stairs and stood at the threshold of the arena when the tower about one hundred feet off to her left blew its top. The shock wave from the explosion staggered her. Parts of the tower's crown arced out like a blooming flower of destruction, tails of fire and smoke streaming out from behind them. One fragment was flaming more brightly than the others, and it hurtled in a straight path rather than a gentle arc. It slammed into a ledge a few yards below Aleena. It was an old man in a burnt and tattered robe. Aleena looked at the tower and beheld her sister standing amongst the smoldering ruins, her arms raised above her head, her fingers spread like tree branches. A geyser of crimson energy fountained above her.

  "Mathias, you senile old fool," Baezha said with a magically amplified voice. "What sort of imbecile did you tak
e me for? You meant to torture me, but all you did was give me time to find the key that allowed me to access your power source. I now possess the tremendous stock of energy this fortress is built upon. And I am a Chosen witch."

  She paused, and Aleena saw that she was gathering power. Mathias hurled a lightning bolt at her. It struck Baezha squarely in the chest. She absorbed the power and added it to her own. Then she brought her arms down and directed the crimson energy above her at Mathias. The broad beam of energy blasted the old man, pinning him against the wall and driving a scream of agony from him. Baezha held him there for several moments before releasing him and letting him gather his wits about him. Aleena clearly saw that Baezha meant to toy with her antagonist, something that was usually considered dangerously foolish, but Baezha held every advantage. Mathias cast another lightning bolt at her. She batted it away with a blast of sparks and a contemptuous wave of her hand, as if she were idly shooing away a fly.

  "Be careful what you wish for, Mathias," Baezha said. "You wanted to know my gift, and you shall. You will have intimate knowledge of just what a Chosen witch can do."

  She moved her hands, and Aleena watched the cornice stones shift and wobble. They cracked free from their bases and hurtled at Mathias from three directions. The old man was knocked this way and that, like a ball of string in the possession of a cat.

  Mathias slowly got to his feet, the rubble of broken stones running off of him. Then, with surprising speed, he hurled a series of spells at Baezha in a rapid-fire attack of frenzied desperation. He tried to petrify her, even got as far as fossilizing her legs, but Baezha shook the spell off as she would a case of poor circulation. Bolts of energy of all colors flew at her from all directions. She was able to deflect most of them, but several got through. After a full minute of this, Mathias slumped in exhaustion. Then, once more gathering his strength, he raised his arms. An immense bird of prey made of green fire erupted above him. He brought his arms together before him and sent the fearsome thing hurtling at Baezha. She watched, her mouth agape, as the thing flew up and descended upon her, like a hawk descending upon a hare. It enveloped the entire top of the tower and exploded in a great concussion of emerald flame and smoke. Mathias grinned, and Aleena's heart lurched, both of them certain of his victory. The cloud of green smoke where Baezha had stood swirled and danced, then cleared to reveal a laughing Baezha.