by Lakshman, V.
At the last moment she turned and faced Arek’s attack. The blast engulfed her in an argent firestorm that should have turned her to ashes. Instead it wrapped around her wings, then gathered into a ball of coruscating energy between her hands. The master did not even pause but tossed the ball casually at the firstmark, who covered up again just as it detonated. The resultant blast sent Ash flying back to land in a smoking heap.
A few more shots from Brianna were casually blocked with a flick of Kisan’s wings or ricocheted off her armor in random directions. Kisan looked at Arek and sneered, “I took a lightning spear once. Taught me a lesson.” Without another word she launched herself at him.
Arek’s wings flicked out blades in deadly procession, his instincts as true as Kisan’s own given the short time he’d had his new form. However, as she’d pointed out, instinct wasn’t experience and the master had spent more time fighting in her Artymis form than Arek. Her swords spun a figure eight as she neared, deflecting his feather blades as she tucked behind her wings.
A short snap kick caught Arek’s knee, locking it back painfully. The second downward smash he avoided by rolling to his right, but that gave Kisan the advantage of freeing up her blades and wings. She stabbed downward with all her weapons in rapid succession, the razor wingtips and sword points puncturing the wood in a staccato measure, trying to literally nail him to the ground.
Arek continued to evade, his side leaving a trail of blood as he fought to get away from the jabbing death of the master’s attack.
Then Ash was there, smashing into her and driving her to a knee.
As she fell she reached over and grabbed the firstmark by the head, throwing him over her shoulder. The man landed heavily, the breath whooshing out of him. Kisan’s hammer fist caught him in the chest, then her elbow came down hard on his forehead. The firstmark lay there, stunned and semiconscious. Only his helm and armor had saved him from being killed instantly. The master rose slowly, her swords lengthening.
Arek stood facing her with his weapons drawn. They regarded one another for a moment. A steadiness, a calm sense of strength settled over him and he breathed, “Azrael is with me.”
Kisan cocked her head at that. “Piter deserved better,” she said, wiping the sweat from her brow. Then she said, “You were always a disappointment to Themun, to all of us.”
His heart skipped a beat at that, a momentary break in his composure. Her instincts were so finely tuned to any change, like an animal sensing weakness, that two kicks were launched at him before he blinked. One came at his head and the other low, towards his groin.
Arek ducked under the first and spun out of the path of the second, but he missed the spinning heel that drove into his gut, sending him sprawling backwards. He breathed out at the strike, focusing his strength, automatically using his momentum to roll to his feet. He saw her smile, as if letting him know she could play him like an instrument whenever she wanted.
Her smirk began to fill him with rage, but something strange happened. In that instant something cool and calm descended over him. It was a balm, a salve acting like psychic armor. He could feel his strength flow, pure and clean, so unlike the fear that had always been his constant companion in life. And with that a realization struck him, a moment of crystal clarity that would forever change who he fundamentally was.
The opposite of fear was not courage. Courage was acting in spite of fear. The opposite of fear was… understanding. Insight was the counter to fear.
A smile came to his lips, the only sign that a wondrous change was happening within. His knowledge of Kisan and her tactics gave him rare insight, enough to counter any fear he might feel. He’d always known her taunts were designed to play on his uncertainties. Silbane had berated him again and again to maintain control but it had always been impossible. Rational thought left him when she played her mind games.
This time however, he didn’t feel the white hot rage that would normally have consumed him. Instead, his measured composure gave him insight into Kisan, though whether this came from his master’s final advice or something within himself he couldn’t tell. He began to see things, small details he might have otherwise missed.
He noticed the sweat, which meant this wasn’t as easy as she was making it out to be. He also noticed she was talking, something she knew not to do during combat. She loved saying, ‘Kill first, you can always talk to their memory’. It was a sign of her doubt. Arek’s eyes flicked to Ash, who still wasn’t moving.
One thing was certain—insight or not, if he didn’t break her composure, she would ultimately win. She was just too precise, too experienced, and with Ash and Tej down, it meant life or death for all of them. So he selected his next words carefully.
“Those magehunters took more than your family, they broke you inside,” he said softly.
“What?” whispered Kisan, her eyes widening a little.
“Silbane believed you were better,” he continued. He shook his head sadly. “He said you feared love and now I know why.”
“Shut up,” Kisan said, her eyes fierce.
“Deep down inside you thought it was pity, and you couldn’t stand it.” Arek was watching intently, knowing he was getting through. His newfound and more precise combat sense told him Brianna was still there with Tej, and Ash was recovering. He needed to buy more time. “Silbane loved you,” he said, “and for that, he had to die.”
Kisan’s smile faltered, her eyes flicked left and right. Then with a scowl she attacked. Her strikes came in fast rapid succession, her blade work still perfect in the extreme. Yet he could see her anger show itself in the overkilling force she used.
Arek slid left as a blade passed by his neck and narrowly avoided another to his leg. He threw a wing in her face then ducked under her sweeping slice, moving in close, but held his strike. Instead he grappled, pulling her in close, and said, “You couldn’t kill his faith in you,” Arek looked her in the eyes, “so you killed him instead.”
The master didn’t say anything, instead she sent a knee crashing into his armored chest. Before he could recover, the pommel of her blade hit the side of his helm and he fell back.
Kisan now attacked with a palpable fury, her strikes coming almost faster than he could block. Then she dropped her blades, as if she wanted to beat him to death with her bare hands, her lips stretched back over a rictus-like snarl of hate.
He stopped a ridge hand, only to be hit hard with an elbow. He ducked under the next one and punched her in the midsection but it barely slowed her down. He had to get her out of this armored form, but how? Even angry the armor protected her from her own worst mistakes.
She aimed her stiffened fingers for his eyes. He’d seen those fingers go through stone. He blocked using the outside of his wrist, then came in throwing elbow after elbow in an effort to overwhelm her. He crashed three hard strikes into her crossed forearms and shoulder before she countered.
She struck using one elbow on the inside of his arm and the other crushing into his opposite thigh. He felt his arm nearly dislocate but her second strike put him down. Her knee made a short forward arc, catching him under the chin and laying him out, with stars bursting in his vision. He shook his head, tasting coppery blood, only to find her blade at his throat.
He opened both hands, looking at the master’s eyes. “Killing me won’t fix you—” he spat blood—“it won’t bring him back.”
There was silence at that as Kisan looked at him, her gaze wavering though her weapon was rock steady. “Before I end this, I absolve myself.” She paused, then admitted, “I sent Piter against you.” Her eyes darted side to side, as if she’d just heard what she said.
“Why?” Arek began to rise but then laid his head back down, her sword’s point still tickling his throat.
“I asked Silbane to push you, with my students,” she breathed, her face falling, “and now he’s dead.” Still her blade hadn’t moved.
“How does this end?” Arek asked, not knowing if she meant Piter or
Silbane in her last statement. The master seemed lost but he knew her reaction to any movement on his part would be just as lethal. She was honed to react instinctually, and now he knew that was the key.
She was quiet, then she met his eyes and said, “Piter was all I had. You can’t take him and live.”
* * * * *
Time slows…
In this moment Arek knows talk is over. He can feel her forearm tighten an eyeblink before she thrusts and does the only thing he can— he changes form, shrinking, the blade passing just over his head, sparking into the ground instead of running him through.
Kisan reacts instinctively, reading his move and changing to her unarmored form right along with him, keeping him pinned under her, neither of them dropping their blades.
Arek stabs up and Kisan stabs down, his blades piercing through her body a fraction of a heartbeat before hers, but he knows it can only be a pyrrhic victory. She’s just too good.
He feels the points enter his chest. He’s about to die but it’s the best he can do. At least his father and friends will have a chance. Would his master be proud?
Bam! Bam!
Blood blossoms from Kisan’s shoulder and stomach in a violent outburst of red. She looks down uncomprehendingly.
Bam!
A third deafening blast comes exploding out of her chest. What sounds like a small incredulous laugh escapes her lips. She falls off of Arek and collapses beside him, unmoving.
Time resumes flow…
* * * * *
Brianna stood there, her weapon drawn and pointed. She looked lost, as if she did not remember firing. Arek scrambled up, putting pressure on his side to try to control the bleeding. The blade points had entered into the muscle of his chest but stopped on his ribs. It hurt, but hadn’t pierced deep enough to puncture his lungs or heart. His side was another matter.
“Is she… is she…?” asked the dwarven healer in a daze.
“Are you okay?” he asked her, trying to give her a hand. In his normal form however, she towered over him.
“I took an oath never to harm,” Brianna murmured, “but I had to use the lethal setting.”
Arek raised an eyebrow at that, realizing until now the healer had been firing something less than lethal. An incredulous laugh escaped before he could stop it, and he shook his head in disbelief. Then he recovered and instead of chastising her said, “You did what you had to.”
She fell to her knees. “I’m think I’m going to be sick.”
Arek waited but she seemed to get a hold of herself. He thought about what Silbane would do and realized it would be to give her a task, something for her to focus on. He grabbed her hand and squeezed until she looked at him, then told her, “Check on the firstmark. He needs your attention.” Brianna slowly nodded and got up.
Then he rose and checked on Duncan and Yetteje. The man lay behind the outcropping, a feather blade through his leg. It wasn’t bleeding because Brianna had wisely chosen not to removed it. When Arek met his father’s eyes, the man sighed and said, “I’m tired of being hurt.”
Arek couldn’t help but smile at that and said, “Me too.”
He dropped down beside the unconscious princess, drinking in her beauty. She looked so peaceful, and despite her proven courage, fragile. He looked over at Brianna, who nodded in response to his concerned look and said, “She’ll be okay. Give me a moment.”
He turned to his father and inspected the torc. A brief tug told him what he already knew, that with the blackfire gone neither he nor anyone he knew in Arcadia could take it off. His father must’ve known it too, for he just shook his head and in a soft voice filled with more pain than humor said, “And I now really hate the Galadines.” He eyed his son and added, “And that’s saying a lot.” The comment elicited a soft chuckle from both as Arek collapsed next to him.
A moment later Brianna returned with the firstmark, helping him with her shoulder under his arm. Ash looked at the group, his eyes finally on Duncan, and said, “You’re still under arrest.”
Duncan rolled his eyes and said, “I was beginning to doubt your commitment to the Galadine cause.”
Brianna put Ash down, then turned her attention to Duncan’s leg. While she worked, Arek looked at them and said, “I owe you all thanks. I would’ve been killed without your help.”
The dwarven healer pointedly ignored him but Ash gave him a lopsided grin and said, “I never had a quarrel with you, and I’ll not lay the sins of your father upon your head.” Then his tone grew serious, “But I meant what I said. We’re allies for now, but Duncan needs to answer for what he did.” He nodded towards the unconscious form of the princess and said, “I’ve seen you looking at her. Imagine the torture she’s going through standing next to the man who killed her father.”
“Everyone has something to bear, don’t they, Firstmark?” queried the archmage softly from behind Arek. A hiss sounded as Brianna pulled the blade out and then bent quickly over the wound.
Arek sighed, then said to Ash, “I hear you.”
“Maybe, maybe not. I’m in charge of her safety. Don’t make me choose between you, because there no choice for me.” Ash looked at him meaningfully until he nodded, then turned his attention back to the opening leading down into Avalyon as more and more smoke billowed through. “How soon before we can get moving. From the sound of it, the Furies are almost here.”
“Furies?” Arek asked, surprised.
The firstmark nodded. “Kisan said the demon-queen used us as a distraction. Not sure if she wants anyone leaving here alive, and I don’t want to stay to find out.”
Arek pondered this, wiping his bloody mouth again and wincing. Every part of him hurt. He spat more blood, then looked at Brianna. At his unasked question she said, “He’ll be able to walk, but the torc is blocking the patch from working fully. I’ve removed the blade and sealed the wound. Luckily it seems to have gone through muscle so the bleeding should be controllable. I have a few more injuries to tend to and then we can move. Light travel—” she caught his look and sighed—“if possible.”
“Work fast,” Arek mumbled through a rapidly swelling jaw, “we don’t have a lot of time.” Then he got up, holding his side, and limped over to Kisan’s body.
Ash limped over too, looking down on her. “She was hard to like, and yet...”
Arek breathed in, then out again, feeling the steadiness of Silbane and Azrael envelop him. He could remember everything. Did all Adepts know this too? Then he looked at Ash and said, “No, Silbane loved her as much as he did me. He thought she was worth saving.” He was quiet for a moment, then added, “He thought everyone was.”
“Some people are too broken to saved,” said the firstmark softly.
Arek didn’t reply, he just thought about his master. He took another deep, cleansing breath, then turned to Brianna.
The dwarven healer nodded, “The blade is out. His hand and other wounds are tended to. I had to put him to sleep—” she corrected herself—“actually I doubt I could have stopped him from passing out, but we can go.”
“Where?” asked Ash.
Arek’s visage grew dark. “I think I want to pay my ‘mother’ a visit. See what all this was about.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but there’s nothing protecting you, is there? I mean that ‘blackfire’ you had is gone. Why wouldn’t she just kill you?”
“I’m going to get some answers,” replied Arek obdurately. Something about him must have truly changed, a steadiness in his eyes. He watched the firstmark search him for doubt, then nod as if Arek had issued a command.
His attention returned to Brianna, who had risen to come and join them. She rubbed her hands on her thighs, looking uncomfortable. Then she noticed the dark blood soaking his side and beginning to soak through at his chest and said, “Your hurt, let me see.”
She took out a salve and rubbed it into the still bleeding wounds. Then she touched her finger to the stab wound in his side and looked at the back of her hand, wher
e an image had formed.
Arek flinched, hissing through clenched teeth as Brianna probed into the wound. “You’re bleeding on the inside,” said Ash, also looking at the image.
“How would you know?” asked Arek, a little annoyed at the invasion of privacy and the fact that he couldn’t see what was displayed on Brianna’s hand.
“It’s not the first time I’ve seen a stab wound, though usually from the outside,” the firstmark commented dryly. “And blood is blood.”
“I got it, Firstmark,” Brianna reassured, focusing on the worst wound first. She played her finger around to see the injury from different directions, every move eliciting a new curse from Arek. Finally, Brianna tapped a few things on her hand, then pulled her finger away and did the same to the smaller wounds on his chest. Finally she checked his jaw and mouth, saying, “The puncture in your side is sealing. A few enchs up or down and you’d have had real trouble. The rest are less serious but will probably hurt a lot. Don’t move suddenly and you should heal fine.”
Arek took a breath, already feeling better, like a knot in his side had loosened. If an ench was anything close to a finger’s breadth, he got the feeling he’d been lucky to escape real injury. Or had he?
He turned and looked back at the body of Kisan. The master was too good to have missed. He turned it over in his eidetic mind, seeing that first strike she’d buried with perfect clarity. Had it been merely his own skill or had something like a glimmer of regret that stayed her hand?
Brianna broke his reverie by saying, “If we recover my capsule, the thing I was sleeping in, it might help.”
“How?” asked Arek, but not in a challenging way. The woman had proven herself loyal, staying when she could have left and ultimately saving Arek’s life.
“I have instruments that may help us locate a way out of Arcadia,” she replied. “I also may be able to glean more understanding of all this,” her gaze somehow taking in the world around her.