A Big Shiny Blue Marble Ch. 32

She pulled back and he saw her teeth then as she opened her mouth a little and she kissed him. They had only a moment, but it was exquisite for them both, and they parted, fully clothed again to walk toward Garrend, her arm around his waist.

The figure on the log ignored Garrend's questions and demands, until he placed his hand on the top of the hood and shook a little. There was no response, but he noted that the hood was not empty. He got down on one knee and offered one last chance, demanding answers to several questions, such as just what kind of game Ksyusha was playing here, but he felt himself being ignored, so he grasped just below the hood and hauled up as he stood so that he could see her face while he threatened her with his knife against her belly.

We'd see then, he thought.

"Idiot," he heard Ksyusha's laugh from behind him, "How did you think to get home? I will not help you back."

Garrend snapped his head around and saw Ksyusha there, laughing at him. He turned back and saw Verrick's face in agony, clutching at the knife in his guts, the one that Garrend held in his hand. He remembered having the thought, but he didn't remember doing this.

He'd always hated this when it happened.

"Do not worry, little man," Ksyusha's voice rang sweetly as she held up the amulet and regarded Verrick with a grin, "I'll keep you alive. Right here. Come."

Verrick watched in horror as her fingers danced in the air between them. He felt the draw on him, and she hadn't said a word of a single incantation.

He'd needed to hit her over the head to lay her out cold so that he had the time to say the words and use the motions. Her magic were different, and she needed no words. He quailed in terror, suddenly knowing the power of the one that he'd helped to imprison for a year.

Verrick shook his head, but half of his soul left him anyway and sifted into the amulet. He drew out the knife and held it in a threatening manner to Garrend as he backed away into the darkness. He struggled against it, but his will would be leaving him soon and he knew it.

"Run if you like," Ksyusha said, "I can easily make it so that no matter where you seek to run, you run only to me. But satisfy your need to escape, Verrick. I can wait."

She smiled to Vadren, "Think of us and watch with your mind if you would learn of Nika and me," she said as she faded from sight.

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"This is one of the reasons why you should never rule anyone," Garrend heard a male voice say and when he looked, he saw a dark figure with long white hair and red eyes. "You cannot even rule yourself."

Gerrand gasped. "Drow," was all that he said.

"You wished for Xunafae's death," Vadren said quietly, "well you have caused it, though not by your hand. She perished not far from here as she tried to keep a pack of dogs from her and her child. The child lives still."

Vadren saw the look on Garrend's face and nodded, "Oh yes, there is still a rightful heir, Garrend. But three things must happen before your tribe has a ruler again. The little one must grow up, the people must want her rule, and of course," he grinned with a little shrug, "you must die."

Vadren stepped forward and regarded Garrend, "Xunafae was my friend and so was Aldred, the love you took from your sister and the father that you took from the child before she was born. It would drive me to do all sorts of things to you, Garrend, but I will do only two in my vengeance.

The last thing that I will do is to cause the same things to happen to you as happened to your sister to cause her passing, and I leave that as what is to come. The first thing that I will do is turn you over to the best one to teach you something, so that you might learn the danger which comes from the sort of wrath that a vengeful mother is capable of."

Garrend blinked as his clothing and the rest of his weapons left him. He looked at himself in amazement for a moment. There was no one there with him now but the Drow and he was fading, but Garrend's head snapped up as he heard the war cry of a voice from a fair way off who approached through the forest. It sounded a little like Xunafae to him.

"You – you said that my sister is dead," Garrend stammered, "Who is that?

Vadren's red eyes were all that could be seen of him then as they hung there in space before Garrend and nodded, "She has passed, but her rage lives on in another."

The red eyes winked out and he was all alone in the clearing, but he heard someone coming. The dialect of his tribe was not far off from the speech of the Drow, and his blood ran a little cold to hear it.

The voice in the forest was singing death songs in a clear voice as it grew slowly louder.

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Verrick took his hand away and noticed that, while it was bloody, no more blood seemed to be coming, and so he made his hopeful and incorrect assumption and began to run away into the forest. The pain was fading from him and he tried to work his best healing spells as he ran. In a moment, he saw a glare in the trees up ahead and ran in that direction to be welcomed with relief by his acolytes.

"What is this light?" he asked, "And where does it come from?"

"We know not," one of his pupils said, "They come from above and each light lasts for a time, but always there are more, one after another."

It was true, Verrick saw as another ball of the yellow fire ignited above them with a soft sound. All of them stood in the flickering light and looked around. Gradually, it became a very long lit area in the forest, about a half mile in length and no wider than perhaps a hundred feet at any point.

Above them in the sky, Nika smiled as she thought that there were enough lights now. She folded her wings a little and plummeted out of the night sky.

The largest of the men held his hand over his brow as he looked into the woods. "There is something out there, "he said, "I can hear it." He picked up a fallen branch and using what he'd learned, the end of it became a torch as he walked away from the others.

"There!" he called out, "There is a – "

And then there was silence.

They called out to him, but there was no reply; only the flame of the branch and that died with the caster. Several of his friends began to walk in the direction that he went, but Verrick told them they were fools to think of it. "Remain together," he called out to them, "Stay here."

At the other end of the group, a man looked into the shadows and blinked. "Tommy? Tommy is that you?"

Several of the others nearby looked at each other, seeing nothing. "Who's Tommy?" one said to another, and saw the shrug which was returned. When they looked back, their companion had run into the darkness and their calls brought no answer.

Within five minutes, three more men had wandered off, and Verrick bellowed that they were being tricked and to remain together near him.

That was when they heard the snarls all around them and began to run with Verrick leading them from the middle of the group and calling out repeatedly to them not to look into the forest and to stay together in a group.

When they were all out of breath, the shadows began to come for them.

One at a time, a dark blur would flash out of the darkness to grab a full-grown man and carry him off screaming into the night before any of the rest had even seen very much of it. The men huddled together and by their sounds, more and more of the snarling beasts growled at them from just beyond the edges of the light. They had no idea of the size of the pack, but it sounded like whatever these were, everyone in the neighborhood was being drawn to them for a hopeful meal.

And then there was silence.

They looked around and there was only one thing visible at all. At the far end of the line of light, one being stood alone. Verrick know who was there, and he took a step to run in the opposite direction, but all that he saw at the other end was a large dark moving mass composed of many shadows – all of them running toward them all and baying for blood.

His acolytes ran toward the individual, and Verrick saw that he had no choice.

As he began to run back in the same direction as his students, he saw Ksyusha there up ahead as she adjusted one strap which held her coat closed. As her hand came down, a dark shadow swirled around it and it took shape as her sword as she began to stride forward.

Most of the men didn't know her, and even those who did knew that their only chance lay in getting past her. Some of them bolted to run into the woods, but the sounds which rose as they approached changed their minds and they turned to run toward the shadows which approached them.

Nika flew above, headed toward the group which ran and she squinted at them a little. She wanted most of them near the frightened mage and it wasn't time yet for the ones which Ksyusha had called to her aid, these shadows which ran like dogs and howled for blood, and yet for all of that, ate nothing and took only the soul of those that they were turned loose on.

She opened her hands and a bright shower of glowing sparks fell slowly down from above the floating lights.

They looked beautiful in an eerie way until the first of them touched the ground and the explosions began. The three men farthest from the rest disappeared as they were obliterated, and the rest turned back to run toward Ksyusha.

The warlock began to run toward them all, gaining speed all the while . Each time that any pf them blinked, she was closer, moving faster and faster. Some of the acolytes turned to Verrick, waiting for the mage that they'd devoted themselves to and followed to smite this threat down, but he only stood whimpering for a moment before he drew his dagger and lowered his staff to point it toward the running warlock.

She appeared before him in the middle of them all and his blast hit her in the chest, but after the brief flash, she was still there, grinning at him. Her upswing broke the staff and tore it from his grasp at the same time. Several of the men swung at her, but their blades bit nothing and an instant later the bounding shadows overran the rest.

She held Verrick by the throat as the slaughter began all around them. The sounds were terrible, but he heard her clearly as she calmly told him that he was to travel to her tower, and she didn't care how he did it, but he was to return to her with a small specific group of her tomes intact and unharmed.

"You are listening, aren't you?" she asked through her teeth, and he nodded, trying to ignore the carnage around him. She thought of the best way to instruct him in what Azrael and Dahlgren had decided.

"As you go," she said, "you will find the tribe who now has no king and you will not harm one of them, not the smallest child among them. You task is to tell them that Garrend is dead, for he will be soon. Tell of what happened to Xunafae and tell that there is a princess still, and that they are to come to her if it is their wish for a homeland for themselves at last – wild lands are offered to the Wild Ones. If you stray too far from these tasks of mine, the same shadows which you have seen here this night will find you.

You are dead, Verrick, dead to this world, but not to me. Do as I say, and it will take some time – a few years, even. By then, you will ache for the release of peace which only I can grant you. Be a good boy, and I may grant it. Now go."

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Garrend stood in the clearing, shaking his head and wondering what was happening. One minute, he had everything in his hand and the next, he stood naked as he listened to the voice as it came to him.

As she neared the clearing, Cha'Khah threw off her cloak and dropped her daggers with it in one motion. She walked the rest of the way wearing only her boots.

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A naked Drow female strode quickly into the open space around the little fire. She was fine, he thought, and she was fit, but he didn't see all that much of a threat to him there.

Her eyes almost glowed in her fury and she said only two quiet words as she came for him.

"For Xunafae."

His dull mind barely registered what she'd said and then she was on him.

Her actions forced him to revise his appraisal in the next instant as she became more of a very fast blur to his eyes. He was an elf, but he was like tar compared to the way that she moved.

Garrend was a bully and a brawler. It was his way, and it had always worked for him, but her punches and her kicks drove him to his knees in an instant. He was astounded.

He looked up with one eye beginning to swell closed from the four strikes that she'd left there before he could blink twice and his knee felt like glowing agony from the kicks to it – one that had buckled it and the other which came on the way down.

His scalp hurt from the way that she'd held him by the hair for the instant that she drove her fist into his eye over and over so fast that it felt like one blow.

He noticed the taste of his blood in his mouth. He hadn't even seen her hit him there. He looked at her in disbelief as she stood still a little way off with the beginnings of a pleased smile on her lovely face.

"Get ... up," she said.

"Who - who are you?" Garrend asked in painful amazement as she wound her long hair up out of the way of this. She was keenly aware of what the motions did to cause her breasts to stand out to him. Her eyes told him the story from her side of it.

She couldn't have cared less what he looked at.

"Who is she?" Ksyusha whispered as she stood next to Vadren with her arm around his waist again, "I mean, I know that she is Cha'Khah, but she is like another person like this."

"My cousin and I grew up in a place where there was no justice," Vadren smiled, "She wishes to settle with Garrend for what was done – even though she barely knew the elf. She feels that she has a score to settle on the mother's behalf, and also for what was taken from the child.

She is only playing here. She has a temper and when the mood is on her ..."

"Perhaps I ought to look to my defense from her after this," the warlock said quietly as she watched, "She is so beautiful. I have never seen –"

"I have spoken to Cha'Khah," Vadren said, "She may have words for you, but she understands. You might find a friend in her; she has a large heart, easily large enough to fuel her fury at what was done to a mother and child," Vadren chuckled then and she looked up at him.

"Ksyusha, are there no looking glasses in this tower of yours? I stayed in the chair as we spoke. I had to. You do not hear me when I speak of it, but you and Nika hold your own and more. I can say it," he smirked, "I live with many beauties, so I know what I speak of."

Ksyusha's eye was caught by a slight motion in the darkness and she stared. Vadren saw it and smiled, "The one that you saw earlier? That was Arrax, and this is his mate, Shaevre. She has a part to play here, but she stands to watch Cha'Khah fight. The two are friends and both have fought as soldiers, so they admire each other's skill."

"Get up," Cha'Khah said out in the clearing, "I was last-friend to Xunafae, and I am first-friend to Mo- Wenn. There is nothing more for you to know.

Get up, slug," she grinned as she stepped closer, "I am in the mood now."

"I want your name," he grunted as he lunged for her. She wasn't there when his hands closed on air. She'd danced back and was on her way back in with bloodlust in her eyes, but she waited until his hands were on her throat, and the reaction that he saw unnerved him a little. There was no fear there in those red eyes.

Cha'Khah reached up and her hands found the backs of his upper arms and she pinched them hard. The reaction was instant as it would be in anyone, and he released her without meaning to.

She tilted her head playfully before she snorted with derision, "You want my name?"

Her first three strikes caused him to begin to double over, but before he really toppled, she had his hair again and her right fist flashed out and took two of his teeth with a spray of his blood glittering as an arc in the firelight. She finished closing his left eye with her left fist and her left back-fist behind his ear as it passed by rocked him for the dark pain that he felt all through him.

"I want your life," she hissed at him through her teeth and she drove her right fist, middle knuckle-first into his left temple. Garrend's head snapped around from the impact as he reeled. He was headed for his face-landing in the snow, but she was gone again and back directly in front of him like a swarm angry hornets.

He saw those superb breasts and thought that he might land there with his face, but she reminded him that she controlled this when she clapped her hand on his shoulder to hold him and drilled his jaw with a cruel uppercut that she helped with her legs.

His teeth slammed against each other hard enough for him to hear at least one of them crack. As the pain from it shot up to his brain through his jaw, she drove him in the stomach hard enough to almost lift him from the ground onto his toes.

She skipped back for a moment to watch him totter on the edge of his balance, waiting for just an instant. As he wavered backwards a little, she leapt into the air and her kick to his face sent him on his way.

He landed on his back with a groan and she walked to where she'd stood earlier. She examined her knuckles and healed the damage with a wave and a softly spoken phrase.

"Get ... up," she said in the same tone of voice as the last time.

Ksyusha stared, "She still has her breath. She barely pants."

Vadren nodded, "My cousin and I teach each other, so I know what I watch. She calls this riding a fight's anger. She uses it to keep the fire hot."

Garrend wheezed up at the stars as his tongue found a tooth to spit out. The whole left side of his vision was a mess of sparks and throbbing red flashes. He'd never faced anything like this one before. It came to him slowly, but it did finally get through.

No matter what he did here, he was going to lose.

"I – I yield," he gasped from the pain as he raised his head, "Please, ... I yield. I think I am blind in one eye. I cannot go on."

All that it bought him was her scorn and her curses in a language that they both understood.

"You are no Elven king," she spat in the snow in disgust, "Go on from what? You have done nothing yet. What did you think that we do here, enemy? You think that we dance here, uh?" She began to walk toward him, out of the field of his view on his damaged left side.

Her thoughts went to Sariel, the sweet young boy-demon who she loved so fiercely as her nephew and taught whenever she could. This was too rough for him to see, as young as he was, but it illustrated something that she'd always said in her lessons.

Turn anything that you can to your advantage.

If you cause damage, exploit it for all that it's worth.

Never stop.

"You do not fight like a Drow," she said, "You do not even fight like any Wild Elf that I have seen. Those ones can fight.

And you do not fight like a king. No king yields - not among all of the Elder races.

You fight like a brawling drunkard."

She came at him from behind, winding her fingers into his hair again to give him an incentive to stand.

"Get up, or I pull out your hair," she said venomously, "There is a lot, so I can pull all night if I wish, but you will stand."

She wasn't kind at all as she yanked and he began to get up.

"No one fights like the Drow," she said murderously, "No one.

You, ... you fight like a goblin," she said, "a stinking half-slug goblin." Her fist nailed his left eye again and he screamed in pain.

"You even squeal like a goblin, one of the nasty little ones who wiggle so well on my sword."