Aaaand here's the second and final chapter of my story, Bloodlust!
This chapter features a lot of specialized Star Wars knowledge, so if y'all have any questions feel free to either ask about things in the comments or look them up at Wookiepedia.
~~~~~~~~
He soon passed the last of the hallways and stone protuberances, reaching a straight stretch of smooth hallway that seemed to stretch into infinity. The Sith Lord continued down it, the crude glowpanels on the walls illuminating the cruel smirk that stretched across his face as he neared his goal. He curled his right hand into a fist, flexing his injured arm as he walked on for what seemed like hours.
Finally, he reached a huge room. He could barely see the walls to either side of him, because of the poor lighting in the chamber, but he could tell that the path he was on continued down to a huge wall. To either side of him, the floor sloped downward into an inky darkness he couldn’t penetrate. The wall, however, was his goal, so he approached it, finally coming to a halt thirty feet in front of it and the two Jedi poring over the wall’s archaic markings, lit by a series of lights above the wall.
As he did so, he saw that one was obviously older, a stocky Twi’lek and Jedi Master, to judge by his robes. The other one, a light blue Nautolan, couldn’t have been more than seventeen years old, likely a Jedi Apprentice. The Sith Lord stood away from the wall, his clothing and the darkness around him cloaking him in shadow.
The Apprentice was visibly agitated, and he broke the tense silence with a sigh of frustration. “Master Komar, I told you, I sensed something! It feels important; at least let me travel back to the entrance to see what’s going on!”
This was obviously not the first time the Apprentice had said something similar, because the Master’s reply was delivered with an overly dramatic sigh. “Very well, Tal. I suppose if we must deal with this, then we must.”
With an eager grin, the Nautolan stepped forward, only to be restrained by his Master’s hand on his shoulder. “There is no need for that, my Apprentice. Our disturbance has had the good manners to bring himself to us.”
Figuring that the game was up, and always one for a dramatic entrance, the Sith Inquisitor stepped from the shadows, his sulphuric yellow eyes boring a hole through the pair as he slowly stretched and clenched his hands.
The Apprentice gasped and dropped into a combat stance, his single-bladed amber lightsaber snapping into full length. He dropped into a crouch, and then, ignoring his Master’s cry of warning, sprang towards the Sith, clearing the distance between them rapidly. The Inquisitor dodged two of Tal’s quick but unskilled attacks easily before contemptuously blasting the Nautolan backwards with the Force.
The Apprentice landed ignominiously at the feet of his Master, who sighed to himself before giving Tal a hand up. “You’re a fool, boy. That’s a Sith Lord, you can tell by the eyes. An Inquisitor too, by the look of his robes. It’ll take the both of us…” and with that, he ignited his own azure blade with a hiss, “…to take him down. This is what you’ve been training for, Tal.”
The Inquisitor watched, grinning, as the Nautolan regained his feet once more. The Sith Lord picked up Tal’s lightsaber from where it had clattered to the ground at his feet, and strode towards the two Jedi, who watched him warily as he paused before them with fifteen feet still left between them. He bowed deeply to them before throwing the Apprentice’s lightsaber back to him.
He caught it with a confused expression, and asked before he could stop himself, “Who are you?”
Komar nodded, repeating the question silently, and adding, “And why have you come?”
“I am the Sith Inquisitor Charden Kolas. And I have come,” he raised his left hand and curled it into a fist, leaving only his index finger pointing at the Jedi Master, “for your lightsaber.”
Tal gasped again, but Komar only nodded resignedly. “It’s the crystal you’re after, then. And should I assume you slaughtered every trooper and smuggler up there to get at me for it?”
Charden nodded on both accounts, his grin widening. “Almost. I’ll go back for the others on my way back up. I need that crystal, I’m afraid. You can give it to me peacefully, but to be completely honest, I’d rather take it from your corpse.” That said, he drew his lightsaber from his belt and ignited it, sweeping it in an elaborate salute towards the two Jedi.
Tal ignited his as well, and both he and Komar swept theirs in a similar one, before leaping towards Charden in the same instant.
And the battle was joined.
The Inquisitor caught both blades on his with a single block and drove both of his attackers a step back with a flurry of acrobatic Ataru slices and twists. His form was unaffected by his blaster injury; he had long ago learned to ignore pain completely. His opponents began heading to either side of him in an attempt to flank him, and he waited for their strike with patience.
However, that was something that the Apprentice carried in short supply, and he came in low at Charden, putting all of his strength into a tight Soresu slice ill-suited for lightsaber duels. The Sith Lord blocked it and almost took Tal’s head off with a Djem So counter-slice, but missed as he was forced to duck a wide Juyo swing from Komar that would’ve decapitated him in turn. He dropped back onto one hand to dodge a second swing and then shoved himself forward, kicking the Apprentice in the chest with both feet and knocking him backwards as he did so. The Jedi Master came at him with wide, ferocious movements typical of the aggressive style he had chosen to use thus far in the battle, and he spun to block, barely catching the first one in time. He realized as he did that there was no way to last against this Jedi Master, this Guardian, in close combat, at least not with the Apprentice to watch as well. Which gave him an idea…
He leapt back and spun in a 360 degree kick, knocking Tal over and leaping over him just as he had been regaining his feet. As soon as he landed facing the two Jedi, he stretched a hand out and loosed a blaze of Lightning at the Nautolan, which raced towards him as he was regaining his feet again. Komar was forced to use his blade to block Charden’s attack, and the Sith knew that that would be his weakness. As the Lightning crackled and merged into nothingness on the Twi’lek Master’s blade, the Inquisitor let out a throaty chuckle, crooking the index finger of his left hand in a mocking gesture.
The Apprentice finally regained his feet, and his fury with being knocked over so easily was written across his face, making him all the more likely to make more mistakes. He dashed forward, again ahead of his master, and Charden took the opening presented by Tal’s wide swings: he dashed the Nautolan’s blade to the side and smashed him in the face with his fist – it wasn’t elegant, but it would suffice. The Apprentice fell to his knees in pain, and the Sith Lord danced away as Tal’s Master came at him again.
This time, having learned the error of their ways, the pair of Jedi came at him together, their practiced movements evident of long years of cooperation, although Tal’s were sloppy with anger. Charden could tell that Komar was worried about his Apprentice, but that he didn’t have the time to do anything, which was exactly as the Sith Lord wanted it.
Still, he was hard pressed to defend himself as the two came at him in unison. Tal’s defensive Soresu style, normally a terrible choice for lightsaber duels, was an extraordinary counterpoint to Komar’s aggressive Juyo strikes, and Charden was being forced to give ground rapidly before the onslaught. He had to even the odds now, or his chance would be gone.
He dropped into a crouch, deactivating his lightsaber to confuse his opponents as he slammed both his hands into the Twi’lek Master’s stomach with the power of the Force behind his strike. The old Jedi flew backwards with a cry as Tal loosed a downwards chop, victorious now that the Sith’s weapon was deactivated.
Until the Sith caught his wrist, halting his blade in the air. With a sickening grin, Charden loosed a torrent of Force Lightning directly into the Apprentice’s body, illuminating his skeleton and torching his body from the inside out.
His laughter merged with Komar’s wail of dismay as the Nautolan Apprentice’s body fell to the ground, blackened and smoking. Charden bent over and retrieved Tal’s amber lightsaber, which he ignited reverse-grip in his left hand. He turned to face the Twi’lek and reignited his own in a normal grip, grinning insanely.
Master Komar came at him with a roar of rage, his mask of calm shattered by the brutal death of his Apprentice. Charden blocked his attacks easily now; since the Twi’lek’s Juyo style required explosive emotion on the inside, but calm on the outside, the eruption of his impassioned rage served only to hurt him. Indeed, his swings were wider and more erratic than they had been before. That, coupled with the face that the Sith Inquisitor’s quick Ataru forms were augmented by his use of dual-blade Jar’Kai techniques, gave the Inquisitor a serious advantage, which he wasted no time in pressing.
He drove the Master back against the wall and caught the Twi’lek’s blade between both of his, bringing his face up to Komar’s. “You had him learn a restrained, defensive form as a counter for your form, and for his own anger! You should have taught him your style. He could have used his anger, his rage, for victory!”
Komar shoved with all of his might against the Inquisitor, knocking him back a step, and then advanced with a complicated series of Shiak thrusts that drove Charden far back. Grinning at the Jedi, the Sith, continued backwards, slowly, deactivating both sabers as he stepped into the darkness outside the ring of light.
“Anger was not the answer!” yelled the Twi’lek, maintaining his position by the wall with a defensive stance. “With time, he would have set it aside, taken the higher path!”
From the shadows, the Inquisitor’s voice rang, his gravelly tone striking the Jedi as harshly as any weapon. “You failed him. You crippled him. You let him die.” A stream of Force Lightning arced out from the darkness, briefly illuminating the Sith Lord. Komar blocked it, blasting a ball of the Force towards where he had seen Charden. But the Sith Lord wasn’t there. “Your higher path is a lie, Jedi.” This time his voice came from the left, and Komar sent a wave of the Force in that direction, again to no avail.
Then the Twi’lek’s instincts flared as he heard Charden’s lightsaber ignite, and he looked up just as the Inquisitor came swooping down, his blood-red blade held in front of him like an executioner’s axe as he split the Twi’lek in half with a vertical Sai tok slice. As the two halves of the late Jedi Master fell to the ground, blood oozed from the half-cauterized pieces of his body.
Charden reached down and picked up the master’s lightsaber, grinning ferociously before slipping it into his belt with the Nautolan’s. His own he clipped to a hook on his belt before turning and walking back the way he had come, his mind heady with the rush of victory and the death of his enemies. Smugglers, troopers, civilians, they were nothing. But to kill a Jedi… that was a glorious rush.
His mind turned to the room full of sleeping people that had likely awoken, found the bodies, and then discovered that they were sealed inside the tomb; Force Lightning crackled across his fingertips with anticipation. As he headed along the long path back to the main chamber, he supposed that people like that had their place in the universe… as victims.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Bloodlust, Ch. 1
I know I said I'd only post once a week, but I just now finished this story and I can't wait to post it! :D Here it is, Bloodlust! Set in the time of the Old Republic (approx. 3700 years before the Star Wars movies), when Jedi and Sith were much more common...
Bloodlust, Ch. 1
The torched corpse crumpled to the dusty floor, merely a remnant of what it had once been. Small electrical charges slid across the body, reaching almost affectionately towards the dark-robed man that strode past. Republic, the Sith Lord sneered to himself as he padded down the corridor silently. Idiots, weaklings, and fools all. They were using this tomb merely as a base of operations, completely ignorant of the priceless treasure they had with them.
He continued down the hallway, hardly even pausing as he dispatched two more smugglers, stopping their hearts with a twin burst of Dark Side energy. With nary a glance at their bodies, he continued on, soon arriving at the entrance to the main chamber. He reached out with the Force, locating the life-forms inside. Their positions marked in his mind, he ran into the chamber.
A blast of Force Lightning killed the two furthest from him, before they even knew of his existence. He exulted in the moment of their death, and their charred, blackened bodies falling to the floor served only to cause his sick bloodlust to grow. A half-step and a hand gesture, and a third smuggler went flying backwards into the unforgiving stone wall, his bones cracking in several places as he shrieked in pain. The fourth and fifth smugglers, the ones closest to him, fell with a single sweep of the crimson lightsaber that had suddenly appeared in his hand. Another smuggler died with an agonized scream as the Inquisitor tore his body apart with the Force, laughing maniacally as blood sprayed across his face. He released his grip on the Dark Side, and the pieces of the scum’s body thudded to the ground.
Only ten seconds had passed since he had stepped into the chamber, but those ten seconds had ignited a passion, a thirst inside him. His walk was different than it had been before; more determined, straighter. He walked with a purpose, striding quickly to the ancient computer that squatted along the far wall of the chamber. To either side of the computer there was a large doorway, and both were wide open.
With a quick perusal of the security cameras, the Inquisitor saw that while the path to the left lead down a long corridor, the path to the right lead to a large sleeping chamber, currently occupied by several people. With a grim smile, he pulled out a slicer kit and sealed the main chamber’s door to the surface before turning towards the left path and stalking down it.
As he stepped past the doorway, he hesitated, readying himself. The corridor was much darker than the chamber, and the architectural protrusions and statues along the walls obscured his vision even more. He could sense something ahead, and he had a sneaking suspicion that he would soon find the rest of the group of Republic scum that had come with the smugglers. He continued forward again, eager.
The Sith Lord proceeded straight ahead, ignoring passages leading to the left and right as he stepped over and around large chunks of ancient rubble and debris. His haste was enough that he almost didn’t sense the danger in time.
He leapt high into the air, spinning and drawing his lightsaber at the same time. He blocked the trio of blaster bolts easily and landed, his blade in a purely defensive position as he took stock of the situation. A squad of ten Republic Troopers had emerged from two of the tunnels he had passed, and had taken up firing positions behind some of the statues and rubble on the floor.
That noted, he sprang to the side as a barrage of blaster bolts and one heavy round blasted their way through the space he had until recently been occupying. He lifted a piece of rubble with the Force and threw it at the Troopers, smirking with satisfaction as he heard a scream from one of them. Nine left. He sprang out from behind the pillar, covering the distance to the troopers quickly. He cut down two with a ferocious slash-backhand combo, and the sound of Force Lightning filled the air as he roasted another inside of his armor. Six more. He slapped more blaster bolts away with his lightsaber and dove over the incoming heavy round, rolling as he landed. He came up into a slice that parted the Heavy Trooper from groin to shoulder. Five. With a grunt, he extended his left arm quickly, using the Force to impale a Trooper upon the sword held by one of the statues. Four sets of blaster bolts shot towards him, and he blocked all but one, howling in fury as the bolt burned its way through the light armor on his right arm. Ignoring the pain, he leapt forward again, slashing left and right and felling two more of the Troopers. Two. He buried his blade in the chest of another, and released it, turning towards the Trooper’s officer with his bare hands. One. The Inquisitor blasted the gun out of the officer’s hands with the Force and began draining the life from him, slowly. The Trooper’s eyes jutted from their sockets as he groaned in terror.
He picked up his lightsaber as the last Trooper fell to the ground with a thud, and continued on down the corridor.
Bloodlust, Ch. 1
The torched corpse crumpled to the dusty floor, merely a remnant of what it had once been. Small electrical charges slid across the body, reaching almost affectionately towards the dark-robed man that strode past. Republic, the Sith Lord sneered to himself as he padded down the corridor silently. Idiots, weaklings, and fools all. They were using this tomb merely as a base of operations, completely ignorant of the priceless treasure they had with them.
He continued down the hallway, hardly even pausing as he dispatched two more smugglers, stopping their hearts with a twin burst of Dark Side energy. With nary a glance at their bodies, he continued on, soon arriving at the entrance to the main chamber. He reached out with the Force, locating the life-forms inside. Their positions marked in his mind, he ran into the chamber.
A blast of Force Lightning killed the two furthest from him, before they even knew of his existence. He exulted in the moment of their death, and their charred, blackened bodies falling to the floor served only to cause his sick bloodlust to grow. A half-step and a hand gesture, and a third smuggler went flying backwards into the unforgiving stone wall, his bones cracking in several places as he shrieked in pain. The fourth and fifth smugglers, the ones closest to him, fell with a single sweep of the crimson lightsaber that had suddenly appeared in his hand. Another smuggler died with an agonized scream as the Inquisitor tore his body apart with the Force, laughing maniacally as blood sprayed across his face. He released his grip on the Dark Side, and the pieces of the scum’s body thudded to the ground.
Only ten seconds had passed since he had stepped into the chamber, but those ten seconds had ignited a passion, a thirst inside him. His walk was different than it had been before; more determined, straighter. He walked with a purpose, striding quickly to the ancient computer that squatted along the far wall of the chamber. To either side of the computer there was a large doorway, and both were wide open.
With a quick perusal of the security cameras, the Inquisitor saw that while the path to the left lead down a long corridor, the path to the right lead to a large sleeping chamber, currently occupied by several people. With a grim smile, he pulled out a slicer kit and sealed the main chamber’s door to the surface before turning towards the left path and stalking down it.
As he stepped past the doorway, he hesitated, readying himself. The corridor was much darker than the chamber, and the architectural protrusions and statues along the walls obscured his vision even more. He could sense something ahead, and he had a sneaking suspicion that he would soon find the rest of the group of Republic scum that had come with the smugglers. He continued forward again, eager.
The Sith Lord proceeded straight ahead, ignoring passages leading to the left and right as he stepped over and around large chunks of ancient rubble and debris. His haste was enough that he almost didn’t sense the danger in time.
He leapt high into the air, spinning and drawing his lightsaber at the same time. He blocked the trio of blaster bolts easily and landed, his blade in a purely defensive position as he took stock of the situation. A squad of ten Republic Troopers had emerged from two of the tunnels he had passed, and had taken up firing positions behind some of the statues and rubble on the floor.
That noted, he sprang to the side as a barrage of blaster bolts and one heavy round blasted their way through the space he had until recently been occupying. He lifted a piece of rubble with the Force and threw it at the Troopers, smirking with satisfaction as he heard a scream from one of them. Nine left. He sprang out from behind the pillar, covering the distance to the troopers quickly. He cut down two with a ferocious slash-backhand combo, and the sound of Force Lightning filled the air as he roasted another inside of his armor. Six more. He slapped more blaster bolts away with his lightsaber and dove over the incoming heavy round, rolling as he landed. He came up into a slice that parted the Heavy Trooper from groin to shoulder. Five. With a grunt, he extended his left arm quickly, using the Force to impale a Trooper upon the sword held by one of the statues. Four sets of blaster bolts shot towards him, and he blocked all but one, howling in fury as the bolt burned its way through the light armor on his right arm. Ignoring the pain, he leapt forward again, slashing left and right and felling two more of the Troopers. Two. He buried his blade in the chest of another, and released it, turning towards the Trooper’s officer with his bare hands. One. The Inquisitor blasted the gun out of the officer’s hands with the Force and began draining the life from him, slowly. The Trooper’s eyes jutted from their sockets as he groaned in terror.
He picked up his lightsaber as the last Trooper fell to the ground with a thud, and continued on down the corridor.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Kuma
This is the first story I really ever sat down and wrote. Just as a note, it's done partly in flashbacks, so don't let that confuse you.
Kuma
She ran through the low branches and bushes, terror lending wings to her feet as she smashed a path through the woods. A half-blind toddler could have followed her trail, but she didn’t have the presence of mind to care, much less go back and forge a new, less obvious one.
She knew there would be pursuit, though. How could she think otherwise, after what she had done? The blood dripping from her claws was like a metronome to her sharpened senses, much better than that of most girls her age. Better than most humans, and even some animals, actually.
The repetitive splat, splat of the drops lulled her mind, though her feet few no less swiftly. Her thoughts began to slide towards recollection as she continued to lope through the flora.
***
She was down at the river when she saw the smoke, but for a moment she’d thought nothing of it, fires being common in these chilly mountains. Nobody wanted to be any colder than they had to be. But as she bent down to pick up her bucket, something clicked. This plume of smoke was thicker than any other she’d ever seen, even when her father had burned a useless pile of trash and loam. It was looming above the village like an evil omen, but its source was from somewhere a mile or so away.
She pondered over what it could be for only a moment before the half-filled bucket dropped to the ground from her limp fingers, splashing water over her shoes and dress. She didn’t notice though, as she broke into an awkward run, kicking off her shoes to move more quickly.
***
Her slightly pointed ears pricked forward at the sounds of man and metal somewhere in front of her and to the right. She barked a curse that, had her father heard it, would’ve given him cause to backhand her to the floor.
She ran, now looking for somewhere to hide in the thick brush and roots that littered the ground. Her pursuers had the advantages of horses, as well as the ability to use the roads, both of which they had used to their fullest.
She continued to run, noting that the noises made by her pursuers had moved directly in front of her, at the precise point of the road she was heading for. The smell of the horses grew especially strong, and she let out a low growl as she realized that she couldn’t reach any part of the road where the men wouldn’t be able to see her without wasting valuable time.
She increased her speed, terror replacing itself with anger as she made ready her jump. Her grey-green eyes made out a brightly-colored plume waving along the road in front of her, and she corrected her course for it with a feral grin. She reached the road and leapt, time seeming to slow as she flew forward.
She saw the look of shock in the eyes of group of soldiers as she catapulted forward into their commander’s stallion, flipping it into a spin with the force of her weight. It whinnied loudly as it rolled onto its back, and the commander’s scream was cut off by the sickening crack of bones as his body was crushed by the huge animal. Acting completely on animal instinct, her arm shot down, and the warhorse gave a gurgling shriek as she tore its throat out with her hand. An instant later, her head whipped around at the sound of a twang and her shriek picked up where the horse’s had left off as the arrow, shot by one of the quicker soldiers, exploded through her right shoulder in a spray of blood. She fell to the ground from the force of the attack and leapt quickly back to her feet, springing back into the woods with a snarl as she continued on her previous path.
As she loped on, doing her best to ignore the pain emanating from the ragged hole in her chest, the sound of the horse’s scream echoed through her mind. She had killed it quickly, and she didn’t much regret the death of a mere pack animal, not anymore… but the horse’s scream reminded her of another scream, one that she’d heard… before.
***
She stood there dully, not responding to the awkward touches and condolences of the townspeople as they tried to comfort her. She ignored almost everything they said as she stared with glazed-over eyes at the burned-out shell of her house, smoke still rising lazily above it as the men of the town worked to put out the last few fires.
Bandits, she had heard, whispered between the women around her when they though she wasn’t listening. All the signs were there, they’d said, from the stolen valuables, to the fire-gutted house, to – and this was where they’d lowered their voices – what had happened to her mother and older sister. She hadn’t seen any sign of that, though. The townspeople arrived as she knelt over the body of her father, slain by a sword cut that had laid open his stomach. He’d died trying to defend his loved ones, wielding nothing more than the old chipped sword from when he was a soldier, so long ago. Bandits, she’d heard again, muttered to a late-arriving couple. She clenched her fists at that. The townspeople were all blind fools. None of them had seen the dagger that had been lying on the ground next to father – the dagger bearing the crest of those few men good enough to guard his Grace, the Count-Duke of Port Crayne.
When she’d heard the townspeople finally arriving, she’d had the presence of mind to push the dagger into the mud. They didn’t need to know about it. Besides, they probably wouldn’t even know what the crest meant. Their fathers hadn’t been soldiers.
She slipped away when the commotion died down, although her absence would undoubtedly raise another uproar. It didn’t matter much to her, though. She had only one thing on her mind, and even in her unbalanced mental state, she knew she probably wouldn’t survive it. So she stole back into her destroyed house, grabbed some provisions from the cellar, which had pretty much survived the fire, and headed for the mountain pass that was the only way out of the valley that her village was nestled in.
She’d trekked down the dirt road towards the pass for hours, ducking into the bushes at times when she thought there might be someone coming down the path. The entire way, dark thoughts ran through her head as she thought of the men responsible for her loss. Eventually, though, darkness fell upon the valley, and she found herself yawning without meaning to. She took a quick glance around and, deciding that she’d gone far enough for one day, began looking for a good place to bed down for the night. She spotted a deer path meandering off the road and into the brush, and followed it, knowing that it was likely she’d find a nice little clearing to bed down in.
When she got there, she realized that the term ‘nice little clearing’ was overly optimistic, but the weight of the dagger in her traveling pack reminded her she wasn’t taking a journey for the comfort of it. She scraped together some moss to use as a pillow and covered herself with her traveling cloak, sure that she would never get to sleep after what had happened.
However, her fatigue won through, and she drifted off within minutes.
She awoke in the middle of the night and blinked slowly, confused as to why she wasn’t asleep when it was still so dark out. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the half-moon and began to focus, she made out two little bead eyes across the clearing. Her breath caught, and she closed her eyes shut tight, willing herself not to make any sudden movements. She let out a long, slow breath, and as she did so, she opened her eyes slowly, trying to make out the size of the creature in the dim light. As she did so, she paused, confused, as she realized that the creature had no edge. In fact, it looked like a mere pair of eyes, floating there in the darkness.
And then it moved, and she gasped, a sob in her breath. As the eyes moved, so too did her entire field of vision, and she realized that the creature she was looking at was taking up the entire end of the clearing. She’d never heard of any animal this big; even when her father had taken her out of the valley and into the city, the ‘elephants’ that the traders had described had been maybe half the size of this behemoth. It shifted again, moving slowly towards her, and she closed her eyes shut tight, tears leaking out of them as she fought to keep herself from running. She knew that animals that would leave you alone normally would chase you if you ran, just because you ran. So she stayed motionless, until the she could feel the hot, fetid breath of the creature mere feet from her nose. She forced herself to open her eyes again, to stare death in the face, like her father had, and found herself confronted with two beautiful grey orbs, the creature’s soulful eyes. She found herself entranced by those eyes, and stared at them until they looked to be taking up her entire field of vision.
At that moment, when the eyes were the only thing she could see, a voice seemed to ring through her ears. A part of her realized that she hadn’t really heard the voice, instead, it seemed to flow straight into her brain. But that part was silenced as she listened to the words the creature spoke.
“Thou art not afraid of us, child…. Why is this?” The voice, which seemed to be coming from the beast, reminded her of fresh, thick bread, warm summer nights, cold streams, and her father. This creature had the same warmness tempered by firmness that used to be in his voice, whenever he talked to her, and she couldn’t help but be entranced by it. The creature snorted then, and she realized it had asked a question. She stuttered for a moment, trying desperately to remember what it had said, until the beast snorted again, and touched its cold, wet nose to her forehead, its breath filling her nostrils.
She gasped then, as images began to flash through her mind. Memories, almost, because she remembered herself as a twenty-foot-tall bear, standing on her hind legs in broad daylight, towering over the litter of cubs rolling around between her feet. She remembered herself as a huge, grey, gaunt wolf, going hungry in lean times that her brood may eat well. Memories of herself as a lioness protecting her cubs, and as a white-and-black-striped tiger hunting to feed them, all flashed through her mind, until, with yet another snort, the bear pulled away, leaving her dazed and breathless as her mind readjusted to her present, instead of the creature’s primal past.
The beast continued to stare at her, still as a stone, and it occurred to her that if she’d been given some of its memories, it had probably been given some of hers. She looked away tearfully, waiting for a wrathful condemnation or a contemptuous order to go home, accompanied by harsh words about how she had no chance, and that she belonged at her new home. But those words never came. After the silence had dragged on for awhile, she chanced looking back up into the creature’s eyes, and she saw only sympathy there. Sensing it was the right thing to do, she lifted her hand slowly and placed it on the beast’s thick fur, clenching it between her fingers. She knew that even being near such an immense creature was risky, so, she figured another risk couldn’t hurt anything, and besides, it hadn’t made any move to hurt her. In fact, she hadn’t felt this comforted since she saw the plume of smoke, less than a day ago.
The creature shifted a little when she touched it, but remained basically motionless. Its voice filled her head again, this time tinged with anger. “We have had many a brood, many a pack, many a herd taken from us in our times. Thy pain is ours, many times over. And we understand well the concept of revenge. But thy body be too frail for what thy heart desires. We can change this, if thee like. What say thee?”
She took barely a second to consider the creature’s proposition before giving an imperceptible nod. The beast cocked its head to the side, still looking at her, and she nodded her head again, jerkily this time. Her eyes widened as the beast’s huge paw lifted from the ground and moved towards her, a single ebony claw stretching towards her face. In a mind-voice that was both feral and noble, the creature intoned, “From nothing thou art, to nothing, thee shall return.” He paused the claw for just a moment, and looked into her eyes again. She nodded once more, fiercely this time, and with a grunt, he jammed the claw into her heart.
Her scream pierced the night air, causing every bird within a mile to take flight.
***
She ran on. She’d left the troops behind miles ago, and even with the trail she was leaving, they wouldn’t be able to go nearly as fast as she was. She was nearing her destination; she could sense it, and as the castle she was heading towards finally loomed into sight, she stopped dead, settling into a crouch. She waited for a moment, sniffing the air before she padded forward silently. She dropped to all fours and began to lope across the empty ground between the forest’s edge and the castle, and she picked up her pace as she neared the ring of torch-light around a small entrance gate. There was only a single guard there, and even if he had been the pick of the crop, there was nothing he could have done to stop her from springing out of the darkness. She leapt, grabbing his face with her hand as she did so, and shot her arm out, using the combined force to crush his skull against the castle wall. He slid to the floor without a sound, leaving a trail of blood down the wall. She pulled the key-ring from his belt, and unlocked the door, dropping the ring behind her as she entered quietly. She pulled a scrap of cloth from her clothing and sniffed it, letting the strong smell fill her nostrils. She stuffed the cloth back where it came from, and padded down the hall in a feral crouch, following the scent trail.
She came to a fork, and, making a quick decision, followed the left split. But the trail soon died out, and, muttering a curse, she doubled back, this time taking the right fork. She ascended several flights of stairs, emerging into a corridor with the blood of two more guards dripping from her hands. She continued down the corridor, which sharply turned to the right. But new scents had been added to the trail, and she dropped to the floor, cautiously peeking around the corner. Her caution was rewarded as she saw three of his Grace’s guards standing there, a good deal more alert than the sentry at the gate had been. They were wary tonight, since word had probably reached them by now of the foe they faced. But she knew that it wouldn’t matter. She had something to do here this night, and they wouldn’t stop her.
She flew around the corner, snarling loudly as she went. Two of the men cursed and tried to draw their broadswords, but their length made that a relatively long process when the time they had was counted in milliseconds. She pounced, swinging her right arm around in a roundhouse arc, holding her hand in a spearing motion, claws pointed forwards. Her hand exploded through the neck of the first man, covering the other two guards in blood, and continued, spearing the tip of her hand into the neck of the second man. The third drew his dirk instead, a quicker decision, and slashed forward at her, slicing her left arm open to the bone, and she snarled again, bringing that arm up quickly and slicing open his neck. The guards taken care of, she moved to the door, and slammed it open with a roar.
There stood the man who had been the cause of all this. He stood there, clad in nothing more than a night-robe and a breastplate, heavy rapier held firmly in his hand. He smirked at her, and she pounced at him with a shriek.
***
She stood over the last surviving guardsman and surveyed the barracks, the animal in her smirking at the blood-splattered walls. She was angered that they’d managed to get off a messenger-hawk before she could stop them, but it changed little of her plan. She turned back to the man huddled before her, and snarled. He was proving useless; she’d made the mistake of singling out one of the most novice guards. She looked around quickly again, and grinned. When the Count-Duke traveled he liked the idea of roughing it with his men, apparently, because the shirt that was peeking from a trunk at the end of one of the beds was a shade of purple that could belong to none other than royalty. She padded over to it, and yanked the trunk open, letting out a harsh laugh as she saw the veritable fortune of rich clothing. She snatched the purple shirt and inhaled. Now the trail was clear.
She took care of the last man, and left. Her journey was almost ended.
***
He slashed his rapier forward, almost impossibly fast, and cut her from navel to shoulder. She snarled at him, but the snarl was weak. She’d lost a lot of blood that night, and that cut had all but drained her. In her current state, she’d be hard-pressed to defeat a man with movements as rapid as this one, but she had no choice but to try. She saw his body flex, and she quickly rolled to the left as his rapier slashed a line down the spot she had been occupying. She rose to all fours, and sprang at him, ducking under the backhanded sword slash to land at his feet. She grabbed this calf and squeezed, exulting at the sound of cracking bones as he fell to his knees with a cry. He smashed the curved handguard of his sword into her face twice, in rapid succession, and she fell backwards with a yelp. Now both at the same height, they stared each other down, her back against the wall, and then moved towards each other at the same time. She growled triumphantly at the feel of her hand wrapped around his beating heart, and she squeezed, snarling, before pulling her hand out of the gaping hole in his broken chest. She went to rise, and found she couldn’t. Confused, she looked down, and gave a sardonic chuckle as she saw the sword blade sticking out of her chest pinning her to the wall. She wrapped her hands slowly around the blade, and closed her eyes.
Somewhere, a bear howled.
Kuma
She ran through the low branches and bushes, terror lending wings to her feet as she smashed a path through the woods. A half-blind toddler could have followed her trail, but she didn’t have the presence of mind to care, much less go back and forge a new, less obvious one.
She knew there would be pursuit, though. How could she think otherwise, after what she had done? The blood dripping from her claws was like a metronome to her sharpened senses, much better than that of most girls her age. Better than most humans, and even some animals, actually.
The repetitive splat, splat of the drops lulled her mind, though her feet few no less swiftly. Her thoughts began to slide towards recollection as she continued to lope through the flora.
***
She was down at the river when she saw the smoke, but for a moment she’d thought nothing of it, fires being common in these chilly mountains. Nobody wanted to be any colder than they had to be. But as she bent down to pick up her bucket, something clicked. This plume of smoke was thicker than any other she’d ever seen, even when her father had burned a useless pile of trash and loam. It was looming above the village like an evil omen, but its source was from somewhere a mile or so away.
She pondered over what it could be for only a moment before the half-filled bucket dropped to the ground from her limp fingers, splashing water over her shoes and dress. She didn’t notice though, as she broke into an awkward run, kicking off her shoes to move more quickly.
***
Her slightly pointed ears pricked forward at the sounds of man and metal somewhere in front of her and to the right. She barked a curse that, had her father heard it, would’ve given him cause to backhand her to the floor.
She ran, now looking for somewhere to hide in the thick brush and roots that littered the ground. Her pursuers had the advantages of horses, as well as the ability to use the roads, both of which they had used to their fullest.
She continued to run, noting that the noises made by her pursuers had moved directly in front of her, at the precise point of the road she was heading for. The smell of the horses grew especially strong, and she let out a low growl as she realized that she couldn’t reach any part of the road where the men wouldn’t be able to see her without wasting valuable time.
She increased her speed, terror replacing itself with anger as she made ready her jump. Her grey-green eyes made out a brightly-colored plume waving along the road in front of her, and she corrected her course for it with a feral grin. She reached the road and leapt, time seeming to slow as she flew forward.
She saw the look of shock in the eyes of group of soldiers as she catapulted forward into their commander’s stallion, flipping it into a spin with the force of her weight. It whinnied loudly as it rolled onto its back, and the commander’s scream was cut off by the sickening crack of bones as his body was crushed by the huge animal. Acting completely on animal instinct, her arm shot down, and the warhorse gave a gurgling shriek as she tore its throat out with her hand. An instant later, her head whipped around at the sound of a twang and her shriek picked up where the horse’s had left off as the arrow, shot by one of the quicker soldiers, exploded through her right shoulder in a spray of blood. She fell to the ground from the force of the attack and leapt quickly back to her feet, springing back into the woods with a snarl as she continued on her previous path.
As she loped on, doing her best to ignore the pain emanating from the ragged hole in her chest, the sound of the horse’s scream echoed through her mind. She had killed it quickly, and she didn’t much regret the death of a mere pack animal, not anymore… but the horse’s scream reminded her of another scream, one that she’d heard… before.
***
She stood there dully, not responding to the awkward touches and condolences of the townspeople as they tried to comfort her. She ignored almost everything they said as she stared with glazed-over eyes at the burned-out shell of her house, smoke still rising lazily above it as the men of the town worked to put out the last few fires.
Bandits, she had heard, whispered between the women around her when they though she wasn’t listening. All the signs were there, they’d said, from the stolen valuables, to the fire-gutted house, to – and this was where they’d lowered their voices – what had happened to her mother and older sister. She hadn’t seen any sign of that, though. The townspeople arrived as she knelt over the body of her father, slain by a sword cut that had laid open his stomach. He’d died trying to defend his loved ones, wielding nothing more than the old chipped sword from when he was a soldier, so long ago. Bandits, she’d heard again, muttered to a late-arriving couple. She clenched her fists at that. The townspeople were all blind fools. None of them had seen the dagger that had been lying on the ground next to father – the dagger bearing the crest of those few men good enough to guard his Grace, the Count-Duke of Port Crayne.
When she’d heard the townspeople finally arriving, she’d had the presence of mind to push the dagger into the mud. They didn’t need to know about it. Besides, they probably wouldn’t even know what the crest meant. Their fathers hadn’t been soldiers.
She slipped away when the commotion died down, although her absence would undoubtedly raise another uproar. It didn’t matter much to her, though. She had only one thing on her mind, and even in her unbalanced mental state, she knew she probably wouldn’t survive it. So she stole back into her destroyed house, grabbed some provisions from the cellar, which had pretty much survived the fire, and headed for the mountain pass that was the only way out of the valley that her village was nestled in.
She’d trekked down the dirt road towards the pass for hours, ducking into the bushes at times when she thought there might be someone coming down the path. The entire way, dark thoughts ran through her head as she thought of the men responsible for her loss. Eventually, though, darkness fell upon the valley, and she found herself yawning without meaning to. She took a quick glance around and, deciding that she’d gone far enough for one day, began looking for a good place to bed down for the night. She spotted a deer path meandering off the road and into the brush, and followed it, knowing that it was likely she’d find a nice little clearing to bed down in.
When she got there, she realized that the term ‘nice little clearing’ was overly optimistic, but the weight of the dagger in her traveling pack reminded her she wasn’t taking a journey for the comfort of it. She scraped together some moss to use as a pillow and covered herself with her traveling cloak, sure that she would never get to sleep after what had happened.
However, her fatigue won through, and she drifted off within minutes.
She awoke in the middle of the night and blinked slowly, confused as to why she wasn’t asleep when it was still so dark out. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the half-moon and began to focus, she made out two little bead eyes across the clearing. Her breath caught, and she closed her eyes shut tight, willing herself not to make any sudden movements. She let out a long, slow breath, and as she did so, she opened her eyes slowly, trying to make out the size of the creature in the dim light. As she did so, she paused, confused, as she realized that the creature had no edge. In fact, it looked like a mere pair of eyes, floating there in the darkness.
And then it moved, and she gasped, a sob in her breath. As the eyes moved, so too did her entire field of vision, and she realized that the creature she was looking at was taking up the entire end of the clearing. She’d never heard of any animal this big; even when her father had taken her out of the valley and into the city, the ‘elephants’ that the traders had described had been maybe half the size of this behemoth. It shifted again, moving slowly towards her, and she closed her eyes shut tight, tears leaking out of them as she fought to keep herself from running. She knew that animals that would leave you alone normally would chase you if you ran, just because you ran. So she stayed motionless, until the she could feel the hot, fetid breath of the creature mere feet from her nose. She forced herself to open her eyes again, to stare death in the face, like her father had, and found herself confronted with two beautiful grey orbs, the creature’s soulful eyes. She found herself entranced by those eyes, and stared at them until they looked to be taking up her entire field of vision.
At that moment, when the eyes were the only thing she could see, a voice seemed to ring through her ears. A part of her realized that she hadn’t really heard the voice, instead, it seemed to flow straight into her brain. But that part was silenced as she listened to the words the creature spoke.
“Thou art not afraid of us, child…. Why is this?” The voice, which seemed to be coming from the beast, reminded her of fresh, thick bread, warm summer nights, cold streams, and her father. This creature had the same warmness tempered by firmness that used to be in his voice, whenever he talked to her, and she couldn’t help but be entranced by it. The creature snorted then, and she realized it had asked a question. She stuttered for a moment, trying desperately to remember what it had said, until the beast snorted again, and touched its cold, wet nose to her forehead, its breath filling her nostrils.
She gasped then, as images began to flash through her mind. Memories, almost, because she remembered herself as a twenty-foot-tall bear, standing on her hind legs in broad daylight, towering over the litter of cubs rolling around between her feet. She remembered herself as a huge, grey, gaunt wolf, going hungry in lean times that her brood may eat well. Memories of herself as a lioness protecting her cubs, and as a white-and-black-striped tiger hunting to feed them, all flashed through her mind, until, with yet another snort, the bear pulled away, leaving her dazed and breathless as her mind readjusted to her present, instead of the creature’s primal past.
The beast continued to stare at her, still as a stone, and it occurred to her that if she’d been given some of its memories, it had probably been given some of hers. She looked away tearfully, waiting for a wrathful condemnation or a contemptuous order to go home, accompanied by harsh words about how she had no chance, and that she belonged at her new home. But those words never came. After the silence had dragged on for awhile, she chanced looking back up into the creature’s eyes, and she saw only sympathy there. Sensing it was the right thing to do, she lifted her hand slowly and placed it on the beast’s thick fur, clenching it between her fingers. She knew that even being near such an immense creature was risky, so, she figured another risk couldn’t hurt anything, and besides, it hadn’t made any move to hurt her. In fact, she hadn’t felt this comforted since she saw the plume of smoke, less than a day ago.
The creature shifted a little when she touched it, but remained basically motionless. Its voice filled her head again, this time tinged with anger. “We have had many a brood, many a pack, many a herd taken from us in our times. Thy pain is ours, many times over. And we understand well the concept of revenge. But thy body be too frail for what thy heart desires. We can change this, if thee like. What say thee?”
She took barely a second to consider the creature’s proposition before giving an imperceptible nod. The beast cocked its head to the side, still looking at her, and she nodded her head again, jerkily this time. Her eyes widened as the beast’s huge paw lifted from the ground and moved towards her, a single ebony claw stretching towards her face. In a mind-voice that was both feral and noble, the creature intoned, “From nothing thou art, to nothing, thee shall return.” He paused the claw for just a moment, and looked into her eyes again. She nodded once more, fiercely this time, and with a grunt, he jammed the claw into her heart.
Her scream pierced the night air, causing every bird within a mile to take flight.
***
She ran on. She’d left the troops behind miles ago, and even with the trail she was leaving, they wouldn’t be able to go nearly as fast as she was. She was nearing her destination; she could sense it, and as the castle she was heading towards finally loomed into sight, she stopped dead, settling into a crouch. She waited for a moment, sniffing the air before she padded forward silently. She dropped to all fours and began to lope across the empty ground between the forest’s edge and the castle, and she picked up her pace as she neared the ring of torch-light around a small entrance gate. There was only a single guard there, and even if he had been the pick of the crop, there was nothing he could have done to stop her from springing out of the darkness. She leapt, grabbing his face with her hand as she did so, and shot her arm out, using the combined force to crush his skull against the castle wall. He slid to the floor without a sound, leaving a trail of blood down the wall. She pulled the key-ring from his belt, and unlocked the door, dropping the ring behind her as she entered quietly. She pulled a scrap of cloth from her clothing and sniffed it, letting the strong smell fill her nostrils. She stuffed the cloth back where it came from, and padded down the hall in a feral crouch, following the scent trail.
She came to a fork, and, making a quick decision, followed the left split. But the trail soon died out, and, muttering a curse, she doubled back, this time taking the right fork. She ascended several flights of stairs, emerging into a corridor with the blood of two more guards dripping from her hands. She continued down the corridor, which sharply turned to the right. But new scents had been added to the trail, and she dropped to the floor, cautiously peeking around the corner. Her caution was rewarded as she saw three of his Grace’s guards standing there, a good deal more alert than the sentry at the gate had been. They were wary tonight, since word had probably reached them by now of the foe they faced. But she knew that it wouldn’t matter. She had something to do here this night, and they wouldn’t stop her.
She flew around the corner, snarling loudly as she went. Two of the men cursed and tried to draw their broadswords, but their length made that a relatively long process when the time they had was counted in milliseconds. She pounced, swinging her right arm around in a roundhouse arc, holding her hand in a spearing motion, claws pointed forwards. Her hand exploded through the neck of the first man, covering the other two guards in blood, and continued, spearing the tip of her hand into the neck of the second man. The third drew his dirk instead, a quicker decision, and slashed forward at her, slicing her left arm open to the bone, and she snarled again, bringing that arm up quickly and slicing open his neck. The guards taken care of, she moved to the door, and slammed it open with a roar.
There stood the man who had been the cause of all this. He stood there, clad in nothing more than a night-robe and a breastplate, heavy rapier held firmly in his hand. He smirked at her, and she pounced at him with a shriek.
***
She stood over the last surviving guardsman and surveyed the barracks, the animal in her smirking at the blood-splattered walls. She was angered that they’d managed to get off a messenger-hawk before she could stop them, but it changed little of her plan. She turned back to the man huddled before her, and snarled. He was proving useless; she’d made the mistake of singling out one of the most novice guards. She looked around quickly again, and grinned. When the Count-Duke traveled he liked the idea of roughing it with his men, apparently, because the shirt that was peeking from a trunk at the end of one of the beds was a shade of purple that could belong to none other than royalty. She padded over to it, and yanked the trunk open, letting out a harsh laugh as she saw the veritable fortune of rich clothing. She snatched the purple shirt and inhaled. Now the trail was clear.
She took care of the last man, and left. Her journey was almost ended.
***
He slashed his rapier forward, almost impossibly fast, and cut her from navel to shoulder. She snarled at him, but the snarl was weak. She’d lost a lot of blood that night, and that cut had all but drained her. In her current state, she’d be hard-pressed to defeat a man with movements as rapid as this one, but she had no choice but to try. She saw his body flex, and she quickly rolled to the left as his rapier slashed a line down the spot she had been occupying. She rose to all fours, and sprang at him, ducking under the backhanded sword slash to land at his feet. She grabbed this calf and squeezed, exulting at the sound of cracking bones as he fell to his knees with a cry. He smashed the curved handguard of his sword into her face twice, in rapid succession, and she fell backwards with a yelp. Now both at the same height, they stared each other down, her back against the wall, and then moved towards each other at the same time. She growled triumphantly at the feel of her hand wrapped around his beating heart, and she squeezed, snarling, before pulling her hand out of the gaping hole in his broken chest. She went to rise, and found she couldn’t. Confused, she looked down, and gave a sardonic chuckle as she saw the sword blade sticking out of her chest pinning her to the wall. She wrapped her hands slowly around the blade, and closed her eyes.
Somewhere, a bear howled.
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