Slaves to the Wind [Kamalia]

[Jaeden Kincade]

Jaeden slowly rubbed his chin as he looked over the area for a moment. “Okay, here’s what we do.” Jaeden began looking over to Kamalia for a moment. “I’ll need you to strip down naked, and start running around the camp while singing. That should provide me ample enough distraction for me to sneak up on them and kill them using my sword.”

Jaeden paused for a moment, observing the blank stare and listening to any rejections Kamalia had towards the so called “plan” before giving a shake of his head. “Yeah, didn’t think you would go for that one.” Jaeden smirked as he began moving around the for a better angle. “Not much of a plan can be formed. It’s daytime and there’s too much open area between the forest line and their camp to sneak in. Since I’ve already been here once before, the one sentry is going to be a little more vigilant. We can’t wait for dark because they’ll pack up and leave if the three others don’t show up soon. The only element we have right now is surprise. They’re not expecting me as they’ll think the three other will either return with me captured, or my blood on their blades. They’re certainly not expecting you either, but I won’t be able to draw this group away from eyesight of the camp for you to move in and free the captives in my stead. So, get a weapon ready. I’ll leave you the female that’s shagging in the tent. I don’t like fighting women if I don’t have to anyways.”

Jaeden then raised his bow, first leveling it at the slaver standing guard. A slow exhale was given as he began to slowly draw back the string, pushing aside the sounds that might have distracted him as the muscles along his arm going taught from the resistance the bow put up. His looked up for a moment, noting any breeze of the winds happening before his gaze fell back down to the slaver once again. Another slow exhale was given, as Jaeden raised he bow slightly to cover the distance of the shot. Another breath escaped his lips, slower still as he could hear his own heart beating in his ears, feel the pressure of his blood flowing through his neck. His full concentration had gone into the shot itself. Lining it up, raising for distance. It was likely he wouldn’t strike the slaver’s heart with the first shot, but such wasn’t ultimately the goal. “You know, most of the Konti I met back on Mura weren't so haughty.” Jaeden then remarked to Kamalia before suddenly loosing the arrow.

The arrow flew strait out for a short distance before gravity began to take it’s hold, pulling it down. It’s falling only increased it speed as the arrow flew between trees and suddenly struck the first slaver in his chest, just below his collar bone as he yelled out in pain, stumbling back. “Here we go.” Jaeden said as he stood up, pulling another arrow from the quiver. Jaeden’s feet stomped along the hill as he took a couple of hopping steps down before Kamalia could raise retorts or questions she had towards Jaeden's remark about her sister. He soon came to a halt along a tree and hid behind it for a moment as he nocked the next arrow. Down in the camp, the sudden yell began to draw attention as the captives yelled out in surprise. The slavers preparing the horses suddenly looked around, rushing away and looking to his companion before he began to gaze around the area for where the shot came from.

The motions from the tent suddenly became more violent and erratic as the kicks of feet could be seen pushing open the flaps of the tent as it appeared clothing was being slipped on. It was likely they would be at least a half a chime away from exiting the tent itself. Jaeden suddenly poked his head out from behind the tree, the second of the two slavers spotting him suddenly as he yelled out Jaeden’s direction and began to charge, drawing a longsword free from it’s sheath. Jaeden drew the string of his bow once again, leveling the tip of the arrow at the charging slaver. His eyes were narrowed, a breath exhaled and calm expression on his face as another arrow was suddenly loosed, this one flying strait and true, only dropping slightly before the arrow pierced strait through the slaver’s neck, causing a surprised reaction from the slaver as he stopped in his tracks. He took a short effort at turning before he fell strait to his knees, and fell strait forward, landing to the ground with a thud. “I do love shots that turn out to be luckily lethal.” Jaeden whispered under his breath as he began to move down once again.

A third arrow was drawn as Jaeden nocked it into his bow quickly. By now, the two slavers in the tent were coming out. The first was a woman, her body cut and trim, showing signs of a physical fitness forged by the harshness that living the life she did. In her right hand, she held a short sword firmly, but along her wrists seemed to be light scaring, signs that she may have indeed once been a slave herself.

The second was a male, tall and lean, his build just slightly smaller than Jaeden’s himself. His hair was short, brown and dingy. Sweat glistened his body as bruises and bite marks lined his neck, face and parts of his chest that could be seen from the open cut of his tunic. A long sword was carried in his right hand as he quickly moved over towards the first slaver shot, grasping the arrow and yanking it free.

Jaeden pulled the string of his bow again, aiming it at the first slaver he had shot as he began hitting the clearing of the slaver’s camp. The female slaver began to charge, yelling out in a violent rage as a certain sense of insanity burned in her eyes. Jaeden’s aim remained on his original target, loosing the arrow as it flew strait into the center of the first slaver’s chest, causing his to gasp out in surprise as he looked down at the arrow now sticking out of his chest. The mate of the female slaver suddenly looked to Jaeden, a growl escaping his lips as he tossed the arrow he had just pulled away and joined the female in her charge.

Jaeden’s hand snatched to the hilt of his own longsword as his bow was tossed off to the side. He stopped in his walk, pulling his longsword free from it’s sheath, bending his knees slightly as the female slaver charged him. “Sheala, fall back to me!” her mate called out to her.

His words did not reach her as she continued to run at Jaeden, his eyes quickly scanned over her form, noting a complete lack of stance and several openings for his own blade to exploit. The women, overall, was a complete novice in the use of her weapon, but at the same time, Jaeden felt hesitation in the use of his own blade. His words were true, after all, about his dislike for fighting the fairer of the genders. So, as Sheala’s blade fell, Jaeden quickly stepped to the side, as her attack caused her to stumble forward when she over extended her swing. Jaeden’s sword was quickly swung around as the flat of his blade slapped Sheala along her rear, causing her to fall forward into the ground. “Hot stuff, coming through.” Jaeden remarked as he began to move forward to meet the male in combat instead, leaving Shaela to Kamalia.

[Kamalia Timandre]

The konti sorceress leveled incredulous eyes to Jaeden’s face when he suggested for Kamalia to remove her raiment and run around the camp while singing. This time, the konti had a reason to believe that the males of the human race possessed a horrendously low intelligence quotient. “Ser Kincade, you have just proven my decades-long theory that human males have phalluses for brains,” she said, before curving her lips into a sly, sarcastic smirk.

Kamalia would have stayed with the classics—employing subtlety and trickery using thick mists and fogs to bewilder the horses and obliterating the slavers down with a fusillade of elemental spells at the most opportune time. The wizard was not certain if she could still pull that off, however, after casting a series of spells which was admittedly a little overkill. The surprise attack was a sound enough plan, but in a world brimming with danger and where peace was brittle, people had learned to expect such things. A surprise attack would have been more efficient and spectacular if it was augmented by craftily-tailored magicks.

Then again, Kamalia watched as Jaeden Kincade went to work, and admired his level of concentration and his eye for detail as he slowly drew back the string of his bow. Suddenly, she remembered hunting game with the konti huntresses and the ivaski pack in the Silver Woods. As a reimancer, Kamalia knew how wind could affect arrow flight paths. She had been a welcome addition to konti hunting parties as she could command the winds to work in their favor.

Jaeden’s comment on Kamalia’s haughtiness was lost on the konti sorceress as she closed her eyes and sped through the gestures of a wind-nullifying spell. She did not intend to stop the wind in the area entirely. Gusts and winds came in sets, as if they were sea waves, and there was always a short phase of calm between the sets. Kamalia’s intent was to prolong the lull and give Jaeden time to shoot his arrows with a lethal precision. Whispering arcane words in Nader-Canoch, Kamalia emitted silvery gaseous res from her hands, which she stirred in the air to regulate the winds.

When the lull arrived, Kamalia maintained the spell for a while, prolonging the stillness in the air as she wove intricate gestures with her fingers. Retaining the spell was taxing and exhausting, and she could hold it for no longer than a few chimes. To the konti’s relief, Jaeden had managed to shoot two slavers before she released the spell, allowing the wind to gently take its course once again.

Kamalia readied herself, pulling the gleaming whalebone suvai from the scabbard fastened to her hip sash, as the slaver couple came out of their tent and charged towards them. She did not fail to notice the certain sense of insanity that burned in Sheala's eyes as she lunged towards Jaeden, and the light scarring along her wrists that revealed much of her past identity. Though she stumbled and fell forward, Sheala was able to regain her balance quickly, before lunging at Kamalia, intent on diving her short sword into the konti’s heart.

Kamalia Timandre began to recall her suvai training sessions with the suvaimaidens Matalla Shivkani, Satu the Heartseer, her elder sister Marishka, and Suvaimistress Val’mara Nitvin herself.

Defence Stance! You’re still exposing much of your body to Matalla. Keep the target small. Remember, left foot back and left shoulder back.

Kamalia began to take on the defense stance, bracing herself for Sheala’s attack. The konti shifted her stance wider to absorb the impact and lifted her suvai in a menacing arc. Sheala’s short sword hurled itself against the middle prong of Kamalia’s suvai with a musical clang.

“Bitch!” Sheala spat with her eyes wide and her body shaking in fury.

“Now that’s just mean and uncivilized,” Kamalia said mockingly. “You don’t make many friends, do you?”

Sheala responded with her sword. The konti danced to sweep away all of the slaver’s attacks with gentle twirls and sinuous swings, almost incredulous that she could actually perform such a feat.

To the untrained eye, Kamalia would have seemed the underdog, as she could only go on defensive stance to shield herself from Sheala’s sequence of attacks. In truth, however, The konti was only methodically sapping the slaver’s energy by constantly parrying her blade. With Sheala’s recent… exertions in the tent, she must be worn out already. It seemed that the female slaver failed to remember one vital thing: the prongs of the suvai were made to trap swords.

[Jaeden Kincade]

Jaeden stood in between the male slaver and Sheala as Kamalia started conflict with her. His sword was raised in a neutral guard as the tip grazed lightly along the male slaver’s own. The slaver looked to Jaeden with a certain frustration in his eyes, as if he just wanted to get past him at that point. “Your Konti friend doesn’t look that skilled with her weapon,” the slaver then said, smirking, “you sure you should be wasting time with me?”

Jaeden gave a slow shrug of his shoulders as he began shifting to the side as the slaver tried to force a circling motion to get around him. “Yeah, well she’s got a nice set of breasts and an ass that doesn’t quite to make up for that, so she’ll be okay.” Jaeden replied, not giving the slaver any details over what Kamalia could actually do. “So, got a name? It’d be a bad thing for me to tell your tent buddy over there that “What’s-his-nuts” is dead.”

“You’ve got a big confidence there, boy.” the Slaver said in reply, smirking for a moment. “Malaki. What’s your’s as I would like to extend the same courtesy.”

“Jaeden. It’s odd, this may be the most respect I’ve shown to a slaver yet.” Jaeden said before he suddenly took a step forward, bringing his sword across in a swing before it was blocked by Malaki’s blade. He leaned back as Malaki’s blade came swinging around in return, clashing against the flat of Jaeden’s long sword.

Their flurry then began as their swords clashed against one another and blurred through the air, sending glimmered reflections of light when the sun’s light caught them just right. Their feet moved forward in quick shuffles, dragging lightly along the grass of the ground, kicking some of it up in the process. They seemed to be close to even in skill. As Jaeden swing his sword upward in an attack, Malaki parried it to the side. As Malaki brought his sword down in a forward attack, Jaeden would raise his sword to block. It was like a dance, the way they moved, their feet shifting along the ground to follow the others, their bodies arching back or leaning forward, the way their swords would swim through the air like a bird would swiftly fly between trees in the forest. Their duel would either last very long, or not long at all.

On the other end of the spectrum, the fairer sexes did their battle, Sheala attacking furiously with strength as Kamalia remained on the defensive with dance and grace. Kamalia certainly wasn’t being struck, but at the same time the constant ungraceful flurry from Sheala didn’t give her opportunity for attack. Try as she might to keep Sheala’s sword trap, the female slave simply yanked it free, showing a advantage in physical strength over Kamalia. “That’s a pretty dress, white one.” Sheala suddenly hissed as she took a step back for a moment, raising her blade in front of her as he free hand slipped behind her back in some odd sword stance. “I think I’ll try it on as I let Malaki ravage your body.”

Her stance seemed odd, but in the end it was just a distraction as Sheala’s left hand remained opened behind her back, her fingers bent at the middle knuckles. Along her palm, a small glyph was tattooed, and in space a few inches in front of her hand, a small distortion in the air began to form and a hint of swirling blackness slowly began to grow.

[Kamalia Timandre]

The dance of the suvai was as beautiful as it was deadly, and there was rhythm to the konti’s movements as Kamalia deflected all of Sheala’s attacks. For the first time in her entire life, Kamalia Timandre blessed the countless bells of torment and training she had to endure with the masters of the Suvai Pavilion. The parries and deflects of suvai fighting were fluid and graceful for the suvai philosophy encouraged to meet brute force with softness.

The principle of the suvai fighting was if one used hardness to resist violent force, then both sides were certain to be injured at least to some certain degree. Such injury, according to the suvai theory, was a natural consequence of meeting brute force with brute force. Instead, suvai maidens were taught not to directly fight or resist incoming force, but to meet it with gentleness and follow its motion until the incoming force of attack exhausted itself and can be safely redirected, meeting yang with yin—a balance between opposing dualities.

Sheala’s speed and physical strength were astonishing, and Kamalia, with the fragility of her race, found herself having difficulty to keep up. Shaela thrust and then swept her shortsword slantwise with an audible swish, but Kamalia batted her advances aside with the classic parries, redirecting the surge of bone-numbing pain that would leap up her arm then into her shoulders from the force of the impact. Kamalia leapt and trapped Shaela’s blade in her suvai’s prongs, then twisted it, yet tried as she might, she could not wrench it away from the slaver’s grasp as Sheala was superior in muscle. Shaela simply yanked her blade away and sliced at Kamalia again aggressively, as the konti staggered to recover her equilibrium.

“In your dreams, my love,” the konti softly retorted, lifting a corner of her lips in a mocking smile, “I have no wish to engage in such fraternizing activities that remind me of fornicating ferrets,” she said, before leaping at Sheala, with the intent of diving the gleaming blade of her suvai into her opponent’s heart.

The konti and the human slaver were no adepts in weapon fighting, yet their duel was still a wonder to behold, as both women fought with all their cunning and skill. Suddenly, Sheala broke off and stepped backwards before taking on a peculiar stance. The konti sorceress raised a puzzled stare at Sheala as the slaver opened her hand behind her back.

A warning light flashed in Kamalia’s mind. She had fought slavers before, but never had she battled a spellcaster. For a moment Kamalia felt a familiar, hollow feeling in her chest as she surreptitiously studied the female slaver. As the konti suspected, Sheala’s fingers bent in a familiar, complex pattern. The slaver was casting a spell. It was not a common spell gesture, but Kamalia had seen it done a few times by the voider-mages of the Timandre family. Soon enough, it became apparent as distortions in the air could be seen behind the slaver, caused by the dark vortex she fashioned using her djed.

Sheala’s next move, Kamalia knew, was to use the portal to generate a pulling force that will absorb her suvai and render her weaponless. Kamalia Timandre’s primary weapon, however, was her magic. The konti wizard knew she was not going to survive if she depleted the last of her djed reserves, yet there was no way she could parry Sheala’s next move except through magic. Kamalia hurriedly leapt backwards to place some distance between herself and Sheala.

The end of your doubts.

This was a desperate measure, but the konti sorceress saw no other choice. And so the young konti braced herself mentally and sank ever deeper into the source of her darkest power. Kamalia’s shaking fingers fumbled to sheathe her suvai, and steeled her will and numbed her soul to accept what she must once again become.

The end of your fears.

Graceful fingers fluttered in the air as Kamalia softly chanted in Nader-Canoch. The reimancer concentrated as she emitted translucent silvery res in ethereal gases through the center of the glyph on her palms. The pulses of power thrummed through her veins as she reveled in the ecstatic euphoria. Jaeden would sense this, too, through the gift of Nikali. Kamalia seemed no longer the person she was.

“You want to fight with magic?” Kamalia said in a voice that was not entirely her own and a gleam of pure malevolence and spell-lust shone in her violet eyes. “Then I will show you magic!” With a menacing smile, the konti sorceress raised hands that crackled with silver energy and pointed them at Sheala. Kamalia willed her res to attract ample water from a nearby pond. Defying gravity, water silently streamed upwards toward her swirling res, gathering before her as a liquid orb. Kamalia spent a few moments shaping the spell, humming an incantation in the Ancient Tongue. Weaving her fingers, she willed her silver res to shape the water sphere into a cylindrical column, before she began to freeze the top, solidifying the pinnacle of the column into ice.

Kamalia summoned a fresh stream of res to gather around the column and slice the frozen section of it into razor-sharp discs, much like plates in shape. She spun her res and commanded the air to begin spinning the discs, gaining power and momentum before launching them towards Sheala. The ice discs were lethally sharp around the edges but were very thin that the slaver would be able to shatter them with her wrist if they did not sever it first. One by one, the reimancer flung the razor-sharp ice discs towards Sheala, slicing the top of the liquid column in front of her and making more frozen discuses.

Kamalia had overgiven, and to her ears, the only sound was the triumphant laughter of her own addiction that rang through her benumbed mind. The wizard had lost sight of her goal amidst the wondrous barrage of magic. It did not seem to the matter to the spell-drunk Kamalia whether she would die at the end of her spellcasting. Gromhir had warned her that there was a price for power; Kamalia should have realized that magic’s would have to be paid in blood.

[Jaeden Kincade]

Jaeden locked swords with Malaki as the two of them buried their feet into the ground. Jaeden’s hand slowly reached up and pressed at the flat of his blade where their swords crossed. He noticed Malaki’s eyes slowly shift away to look towards the women for a moment before a slow frown crossed his features. “Sheala’s getting a little serious, using the void. Looks like your little friend might be petched now.” Malaki said as he grunted slightly.

“You don’t know her that well.” Jaeden chuckled as he grunted. “Come to think of it, I really don’t know her that well either, but that’s besides the point. In any event, you’re still not getting past me. I can see the concern in that knotted frown of yours. You’re woman didn’t really seem that stable before the Magic.”

“Do you always talk this much?” Malaki then suddenly said as he pushed forward with a grunt, causing Jaeden’s feet to slide back along the ground a little.

“Yeah. Usually.” Jaeden then said, smirking slightly before a forceful shove forward caused Malaki to stumble back a few paces, breaking their test of strength. “Why? Am I getting to you? Am I getting to you? Am I getting to you?”

“You trying to bate me?” Malaki quickly said, almost growling as he raised his sword.

“I’m a master at that, you know?” Jaeden replied, raising his sword to middle guard again.

“Real cute.” Malaki replied.

“Snappy comeback.” Jaeden said before Kamalia’s voice shouted out the small challenge, her voice changing slightly. “Well, petch. This isn’t going to be good.”

Malaki’s eyes then suddenly widened as he saw the water being drawn in front of Kamalia, slowly freezing into the shape of a cylinder. His gaze quickly darted back to Jaeden. “She’s a Reimancer?” Malaki said.

“Well,” Jaeden said as he took on a mock expression that said ‘DUH!’ while looking at Malaki, “yeah. You think with those pitiful Suvai skills of hers, she would have survived in a place like the Wildlands without something else to fall back on? I’m sure as shyke not her protector, I haven’t even slept with her.”

Malaki tilted his head slightly, looking on Jaeden with sympathy for a moment. “Aw, that’s so sad.” Malaki said.

“Hold on, are you seeing her as she is now?” Jaeden said, a slow frown crossing his features. “If I took her to bed, who knows what might get……..frozen.”

Malaki looked to Kamalia for a moment, seeing the sanity slip from her eyes as the trials of using magic slowly began to make themselves apparent. “Yeah, I see your point.” Malaki then said.

Jaeden and Malaki then looked at each other as it dawned on them that moment that there were still in the middle of their own sword fight, and suddenly the pair of them rushed forward, their swords clashing against each other once again. Then, something rushed into Jaeden that caused distraction. Kamalia’s desire for continuous use of magic swarmed Jaeden like a large wave crashing against a rocky cliff, and his eyes soon closed as he began to stumble backward from the onslaught. He could almost hear the sweet whispers that Kamalia experienced himself.

Pain was the next thing to enter his system as the tip of Malaki’s sword suddenly pierced Jaeden’s shoulder. He gave a shouted exhale as his feet began to step backwards as Malaki attempted to push his sword all the way through Jaeden’s shoulder. “What’s with the sudden lapse in attention, wise ass?” Malaki said continuing to push forward. “No more jokes? No pithy comebacks? Come on, say something funny.”

Jaeden’s feet finally planted into the ground, as his calf brushed up along something warm, slight whimpers echoing out in reaction to the touch. For Jaeden, the touch was something of a relief, as a new set of desires made themselves known. He had touched one of the slaves, and with them came a desire to live and be freed. It was a desire that Jaeden was all to willing to abandon Kamalia’s for as her desires were pushed out of his body and Jaeden fully embraced the desires of the captive child, allowing the child, in a way, to save Jaeden. Jaeden smirked as he looked up to Malaki. “You know what the problem is with this attack?” Jaeden then said.

“What’s that?” Malaki said, a smile forming on his face as he though Jaeden bluffing.

Jaeden’s left hand reached up quickly, grasping Malaki’s sword as the edge cut deeply into his hand’s and fingers. Jaeden suddenly yanked it into him farter as the tip came punching out of the back of his shoulder. This surprised Malaki long enough for Jaeden to reach out again, grasping the guard of Malaki’s sword, keeping it in place. “It’s not lethal.” Jaeden then finally answered before his own sword was suddenly thrust into Malaki’s chest, piercing his heart.

Malaki gasped in pained horror as he looked down to the blade of Jaeden’s sword. His hand released the grip on his own sword as it fell lazily to his side before his body began to stumble back, blood pouring from the open wound as Jaeden pulled his sword free. Malaki turned, and began a slow walk away, weak and swaying in his steps. After a few paces, he then suddenly dropped to the ground, and became motionless. Jaeden gave a long, pained exhale as he dropped to his knees, his left hand dropping to his lap as blood began to pool in his palm and pour over his leg. Jaeden dropped his own sword to the ground, his right hand reaching up as he grasped Malaki’s sword in his right hand. Another yell echoed out from his mouth as he pulled it free from his shoulder before tossing it away. “That’s going to be another few coin on healing.” Jaeden muttered under his breath as he slowly looked over to the two women.

_______________

Sheala had no reply for the Konti’s declaration, but merely slowly withdrew her hand from behind her, raising the void she was creating in front of her, about the size of a dinner plate now. Her own eyes began to become blood shot as she soon began displaying signs of overgiving herself. A subtle growl was echoed out as the void grew again while Kamalia was nearing the completion of her spell. Suddenly, the void was now the size of a small buckler, wider than Sheala’s own frame.

She then began to run forward as Kamalia’s razor sharp disks of ice began to fly at her. Sheala ducked her head behind the void as disc after disk was sucked into it, neutralizing any threat they presented. Two disc’s slipped through, however, grazing her leg as cloth bore flesh for a moment before a red line colored where the disc had sliced, blood pouring out soon after. “I’ll take your petching arms, witch!” Shaele screamed as she nearly reached Kamalia.

Her hand pushed forward for the final move, swallowing what was left of her ice. The void itself came inches from Kamalia’s chest as she felt her clothing being tugged forward slightly by the pull, but before contact could even be made with the fabric, the void suddenly closed in on itself, sharply and violently. With it’s closing, the void took a piece of Sheala’s hand with itself as a small, miza sized hole was left in the center of her hand as she let out a loud scream. Her hand was raised in front of her then, as she looked through the hole in her hand at Kamalia, a venom in her voice as blood trickled from her nose, a slightly disillusioned giggle escaping her lips. Finally, her wounded hand was pressed along her face, sliding down her cheek as a blood smear was left in it’s wake. Sheala once again raised her shortsword towards the Konti, her hand trembling with insane violence. “I’ll kill you.” Sheala hissed with a rasped voice.

[Kamalia Timandre]

The embrace of absolute darkness drew near. The complex spellcasting greatly taxed Kamalia’s body and mind, but the konti wizard could not yet feel the full consequences of overgiving. The girl knew that the pain and the excruciating torment would come later after the battle. For now, the only thing she felt was her spell-lust—scorching, maddening and all-consuming. Kamalia was not surprised that her opponent, Sheala, survived the brutal spell mettle. She was a competent void-mage, Kamalia granted her that, but the reimancer believed she still had the advantage: the konti wizard schemed to make her opponent overgive.

Weaving her res and conjuring wind power, Kamalia flung more razor-sharp discs of ice towards Sheala to force her to retain the black vortex. These discuses flew towards her with deadly precision, and they would surely slice through the slaver’s limb if she bade the void to dissipate. The slaver held the buckler-sized shield of black swirling emptiness in front of her, absorbing most of the incoming ice discs, and it was not long until she overgives.

And she did.

Seeing Sheala overgive proved to be a moment of hilarity, and Kamalia’s violet eyes gleamed with malicious glee as the slaver shrieked in agony. Kamalia smiled icily, watching Sheala stare at her through the miza-sized hole in the center of her hand. Kamalia knew that instant that magic was at her side.

The battle was not yet over, however. The female slaver dashed towards the konti, intent on plunging her sword into Kamalia’s heart. Before the slaver could do so, Kamalia took a steady breath, and flung both her hands towards Sheala. The battle will soon come to an end, and the outcome depended upon the konti’s next move. Summoning the last of her djed reserve, the reimancer shouted a single word in the Ancient Tongue.

First, there was a burst of gaseous djed, and then came a gentle swirl of air that quickly compacted into a sphere of dense gas in front of her outstretched palms. Kamalia unleashed her last spell, firing off the highly compressed ball of air, and striking the female slaver with a powerful jet of almost solidified wind. The sudden gust of air did not topple Sheala, but it caused her to stagger back and lose the grip of her weapon. Her short sword fell to the ground a few yards away from her.

Before she could recover her weapon, Kamalia grabbed this opportunity and darted towards the female slaver. Kamalia seized one of the woman’s flying braids, dug in her heels and held on. Sheala’s head snapped back as the retrieval of her weapon came to an abrupt halt. Before the slaver’s startled curse left her lips, Kamalia pivoted on one heel and lifted the other foot in a high, solid kick. Her booted foot struck Sheala’s kidney, and the woman howled in pure anguish. Kamalia kicked again, this time at the back of the human’s legs; Sheala’s knees buckled and she went down.

In four quick steps, Kamalia circled around to face her foe. On her knees, Sheala still laughed like a madwoman, and the young konti held her insanity-glazed stare for a long moment. "You lose," she said softly with a frigid smile. Then Kamalia balled up her fist and drove it into the woman’s nose. Sheala swayed, but she did not go down for Kamalia still held her grip on the slaver’s hair. Being as wispy and physically fragile as most konti, the punch itself would not hurt a human too much. In fact, it would have probably hurt the dainty Kamalia even more. But that did not stop the konti reimancer from beating Sheala’s face.

Holding the female slaver upright by her own hair, Kamalia icily dealt another blow, then a third, then a fourth, and then a fifth. At last, Sheala’s eyes rolled up in her head. Slowly, finally, the konti regained her self-control after turning the slaver’s face into a blood-caked mask. She flung the unconscious woman to the ground and drew her suvai from its ornately carved sheath.

“Mother Avalis would strike me for this, but that felt pretty damned good,” the konti told Jaeden with fierce candor in a voice that was not yet entirely her own.

The konti bent on one knee, before whispering a prayer in Kontinese. She lifted her suvai high and thrust it deep into the unconscious woman’s heart, ending Sheala’s life. She rose and faced Jaeden, “We should see to their captives and escort them to the city.”

And then the inevitable happened; Kamalia was thrust into a world of pain. The first immobilizing shudder of excruciating pain took the reimancer by surprise. She stared at Jaeden helplessly with bloodshot eyes, and before she could summon her own strength and willpower to speak, the icy hand of overgiving closed around her. The wizard fell to her knees, and then on all fours, as she coughed and wept blood. Kamalia wrapped her arms around herself and rolled on the ground, gasping and shrieking in agony as waves of pain engulfed her body. Her complexion bled into a deathly shade, and her alabaster cast turned into a deep, sickly grey. She writhed and squirmed, her eyes wide with horror as she screamed the name, “Gromhir."

I am the answer.

[Jaeden Kincade]

Jaeden had just finished freeing the slaves of their bindings as Kamalia had began pummeling Sheala with her fist, after winning their contest with the arcane energies at their disposals. “Well, at least we won’t have to worry about getting caught up in their crossfire.” Jaeden commented to the two slaves as he looked back to Kamalia, a rage apparent on her face that didn’t seem fully in fault to Sheala. “She’s going to break a nail like that, and then watch, it’ll be all my fault somehow.”

Jaeden then slowly gave an exhale as the two captives helped him to his feet, a small grunt of pain escaping his lips as pain rose up in his shoulder. All three of then looked to Kamalia as she ran Sheala through with her suvai, before looking to Jaeden and expressing her pleasure with such an act. “Well, so long as you don’t take too much pleasure in it, I don’t think she’ll begrudge you for eternity.” Jaeden said, knowing a little of Avalis.

Jaeden and the two captives then looked to Kamalia as her body went weak, a named called out in a pleading voice before she suddenly collapsed to the ground, breathing still, but lying motionless there. The two freed slaves looked down at her in surprise, silent and confused. Jaeden just blinked a couple of times before his good shoulder dropped. “Figures.” Jaeden said as he slid his sword into it’s sheath. “She had to wait until I was injured before collapsing. It’s going to be a bitch carrying her back to camp with a shoulder and hand injury.”


_____________________________________


As Kamalia awoke, she would find that the Syna was beginning to make her way down towards the horizon, making way for Leth to perform his nightly radiance. However, she only would notice that through the open sliver of two flaps of a tent. The inside was simple as her head was sheltered with a thick hemp fabric and her body cushioned from the forest grounds by a soft bedroll and pillow. It would likely be she would check quickly after waking, but her clothing too was still on, none of it seeming to be shifted or put on in a manner she did not do herself the last time she dressed herself. Outside she could hear the nighttime calls of the wild beginning to echo out as the flicker of light and smell of smoke hinted to the presence of a campfire roaring just outside of the tent itself. There, mixed in with the calls of the wild, Jaeden could be heard, his voice humming a soft, soothing tune not quite akin to his usual personality.

[Kamalia Timandre]

The fragile glass
The folded steel
The fluid force
The fountain mist
The breathing dreams
The dervish days
The flame - the ice
Kamalia kiss'd

Wrecked, broken, enslaved. Her touch was frigid as winterfrost, and her fingers stung Jaeden’s skin like a thousand needles of ice when he came in contact with the unconscious reimancer. Blood dripped from her mouth and raced down from her eyes, streaking her beautiful face with crimson tears. Wrecked, broken and enslaved she was, as darkness closed in and embraced her. Chilling though was her touch and exterior, inside Kamalia was a scorching inferno, and she fought a merciless, inner battle against her true unspoken desires. She squirmed, she writhed, she moaned, she kicked, and her breath felt like scalding steam against Jaeden’s skin when he carried her.

In the sanctuary of the tent, even as she slept, the konti moaned, gasped, shrieked and called out names unknown to the human male. She tossed and spun in the bedroll, and it was apparent to Jaeden that Kamalia found no respite in sleep. What dark horrors and nightmares deeply populated the konti girl’s slumber? The thrashing about soon ended, and the konti plunged into an ocean-deep sleep, her breathing acute and ragged. There was no trace of tranquillity on her face, yet in her sleep, the konti looked tiny, fragile—utterly unlike the fierce and powerful being who channelled such fearsome magic.

The skies bled into the colour of sundown, turning the bronze forest into bullion. The open slivers admitted a narrow stream of golden light into the tent, softened by the cumulus clouds into an ethereal glow. Syna’s fading fingers touched the konti’s face, and Kamalia opened her eyes, eyes that have seen death and captured an eternal twilight. She seated herself on the bedroll, and examined the tent. She pieced together shards of shattered memories, and tried to recall what happened.

It was getting worse. Her condition was getting worse, and she needed to find someone who knew about magical addiction soon. Even now, the sorceress could feel the mild strain of being spell-drunk. She could taste a metallic tang in her mouth and the thrumming of djed inside her head.

In her soul, through their sacred connection, Kamalia felt Gromhir’s approach. She remembered what he had taught her, to cleanse and purify her mind and pacify the inner tempests that besieged her heart. And so, Kamalia straightened her torso and partially closed her eyes to meditate.

The girl shut off the sounds of the forest sunset, and turned her full attention to her own breathing. Through meditation, the girl cleansed her mind and infused her soul with an ephemeral peace. Such peace was short-lived, yet it was enough to calm down her arcane craving for a time. In those moments, Kamalia knew quiescence, peace and mental clarity. Kamalia’s mind felt lucid and spacious as she enjoyed this silent lull from her inner battles.

When she was done, Kamalia rose, took her belongings with her, and exited the tent to join Jaeden on the campfire. Her body was still sore and weak from the recent battle, and her gait was slow and uneven. The konti looked around and saw no traces of the two slaves that they rescued. She seated herself near the man, and listened to his strange humming.

“I think I remember who you are now,” the girl said weakly. Her eyes darted around, before raising inquisitive eyes to Jaeden’s face. "Where are the others?"

Jaeden would strongly sense through his gnosis that Kamalia was hungry. More like starving, actually.

[Jaeden Kincade]

Jaeden was in the process of cooking a fish over the fire, the long fillets starting to blacken over as the heat and flames licked at the surface. His shoulder and hand had been fully bandaged and a subtle smirk on his face suggested he was feeling no pain at the moment, as he continued to hum that soft tune. He slowly looked up to Kamalia as she exited the tent, noting a slight weakness in her walk as signs of her recovery were still lacking, the toll of her use of magic still weighing heavily on her body.

He remained silent, turning the fillets over along the long slender stick that impaled them before he subtly reached up, scratching a slight irritation at his cheek. He then motioned past Kamalia as a dish full of fresh nuts, apples and berries rested nearby. “Eat, you need it.” Jaeden simply said as he pulled the stick up from the fire, looking it over for a moment before lowering it back down to cook a little longer.

He slowly leaned back as he came to a rest along a log that rested within the came behind him, his legs stretching out for a moment as a subtle grunt of relief escaped his lips. “We ran into a Sylirian patrol along the way.” Jaeden then finally said as he looked down to the fire, keeping on eye on the fish fillets. “They agreed to escort the two we rescued back to Syliras and were generous enough to patch up my wounds. They wanted to take you to the healing facilities back in the city, but I figured with the names you were calling out, you had someone coming for you, so I talked them out of it.”

Jaeden slowly looked out to the forest, past the tree line of the tent. “There’s been something moving out there, something or someone a little more intelligent than your typical animal. The Ivaski you travel with, Gromhir I think his name was, I presume. The one from the castle in the wild lands that had the whole theater of death?” Jaeden said before finally pulling the fish from the fire. He slowly struggled with the fillets then, trying to pull them free them from the stick and slide them onto the plate, taking almost a full chime to do so. “I imagine he’s been waiting for you to wake up, keeping watch over the area and stuff.”

Jaeden then slowly began to cut the fillet into small pieces, his eyes fixed on the plate. “The food there is for you, should be enough to fill your stomach about three times over. You can eat here if you want, or take it with you.” Jaeden said with a slight shrug. “I sense that you have an uncertain feeling about me anyhow, and I imagine I make your friend out there nervous, if not a bit agitated.”

“Just a word of advice though.” Jaeden said before taking a moment to eat some of his fish. “I don’t claim to know much about magic. I’ve never used it myself, and aside from the mark on my back, I’ve nothing magical what so ever. I can say this though: It seems to me that it’s time stop, or at least to slow down when magic is doing things like causing you cough up or shed tears of blood, or ripping holes in your hand like the slaver back there. Just my opinion in the long run.”

[Kamalia Timandre]

The dusk was heartrending to watch as the skies seeped into the shimmering colors of a dying dream. Sunset and moonrise—the never-ending ballad between Syna and Leth—once again framed the world in a silver, dream-like beauty. It was during these hours when the Konti Isle would gleam in its impossible glamour like a diamond tiara in twilight, resting amid an azure bedspread. The konti maiden merely seated and listened in quietude, watching the everlasting drama of the solar and lunar lovers chasing each other forever in the heavens. Oh, how she wanted to dance their eternal dance, and how she wanted to sing their undying song.

Kamalia felt the uprising in her stomach, and she helped herself to some of the fresh apples and berries that rested on a plate nearby. The recent arcane exertion had consumed all of her djed and had famished her greatly. All the while Jaeden explained to her where their rescued captives had gone, the girl merely took small bites from an apple and stared ravenously at the fish fillets the man was cooking. She simply accepted Jaeden’s explanation, for the seer perceived with her goddess-given gifts that he spoke no words of untruth.

After the girl had consumed most of the fruits on the plate, she began wolfing down on morsels of the fish fillet before glancing at Jaeden. “Spellcasting utilizes a mage’s expendable djed to a great extent. I have depleted my djed reserve during the battle, and I need to regain it by consuming external djed sources—in this case, food,” the maiden said almost defensively in case Jaeden was wondering why she ate as much as an adult jamoura would. “I will pay for it, of course.”

When Jaeden started talking about her bonded ivaski, the konti merely smiled at him. Kamalia knew through their arcane bond that the kelvic watched over her at this very moment, even as he kept a respectable distance from the human male’s camp. One wrong move from Jaeden, and Whitemane would dash towards the campfire to bite his leg. The konti stifled her mirth at the thought. “More like jealous, actually, but he won’t bite you,” the girl playfully promised, before selecting a nice tidbit of fish fillet and popping it into her mouth. “The last thing I would want to happen, Ser Kincade, is to see an angry ivaski bite your crotch. Just one bite and you would be no good to anyone,” she chuckled in a manner that was not offensive at all.

When Jaeden began suggesting to her to stop using magic, the konti’s shoulders rose and fell in a sigh. “You misunderstand, human. Magic has defined my entire life. It is as voice is to a songstress or hands are to a sculptor. It is my destiny, as the farseers of the White Isle had revealed to me. I cannot just decide one day to renounce it,” the konti explained. For a moment, the reimancer felt the urge to disclose with him her arcane illness, but decided that it was not necessary. “Be that as it may, had I no command of djed, we probably would not have stood a chance against those slavers. The void-mage alone could have ripped both of us to shreds with her magic,” she said unpretentiously, with neither pride nor self-importance.

She raised her eyes to the moon. Leth responded by touching her silver locks with lunar shimmer. “Men’s hearts hold shadows darker still than a moonless midnight,” she said in Kontinese, her reflective face illumined by the firelight.