A Long Way From Home (Nya, Abashai)

[Abashai]

Abashai had halted at the sight of the ruins. He had not taken the time to hack a proper path through the thickets, and he stung from a myriad of cuts and scratches that criss-crossed his face and hands with thin lines that welled with drops of blood. More so, though, was the pain in his left arm where the struggle through the heavy brush had torn at the bandage covering his rent flesh.

He studied Dral's gruesome remains. The sight of the dead soldier and the bloody rock was explained when he saw the loosed iron collar that had encircled Nya's human neck. He grinned grimly as he imagined how she gained her freedom.

He scanned the area for additional clues. The marble structure, obviously a more recent construction, seemed curiously out of place. In fact, it was not present in his vision. Cautiously he turned to investigate the strange building. The place made him very uncomfortable. Too wary to enter, Abashai grabbed a torch and tossed it into the doorway of the structure. The fiery light illuminated the statue within. The hair on the benshiran's neck raised as he recognized the stony face as the man who held Nya captive, but he was now missing an arm. Perhaps another clue to Nya's freedom. There were traces of blood everywhere. A sudden primal fear rose in Abashai's heart. This place smacked of magic and evil. He worried again about Nya, how she got involved in this bizarre place. He tore his gaze away and searched for clues of the forest cat. Almost immediately he found a red smear on a flagstone on the ground. Abashai crouched to study the splotch in the torch light. It was in the shape of a giant paw, Nya's for sure. Similar bloody prints could be made out on several other stones heading away from the ruins. His heart jumped in his chest and he choked back an instinct to call out for Nya, to charge headlong in the direction of the pawprints. But his vision had shown eight people and he could only account for four of them, the other four were still out there. He gripped the leather-wrapped hilt of his khopesh till it creaked, and quickly but carefully headed off into the waning light after the kelvic's bloody trail, churning again his own divine magic within his soul.

[Nya Winters]

Nya wasn't born a thinking cat. Her mother had groomed her mind and her bond with Abashai had sculpted it even further in to long drawn out debates on religion, philosophy, culture and sometimes emotions like pride. But in the here and now, all that slipped away. She was a forest cat, hunting, and she'd spotted her prey. Letting them go was no option, none at all, because bad people bred more bad people and even underlings could rise to power to do terrible things. The overhead would take too long, for these were no talderian trees that made her feel small and safe within their branches.

Instead, she'd take the direct route. The track that was barely passable as a road would most likely not allow a coach to bounce down it recklessly, nor would soldiers or underling priests be able to get on spooking horses if they were still piling on supplies and loading. Just about ready to go wasn't exactly ready enough in her mind as she took the direct approach.

Roaring again, this time in joy of spotting her prey (and to give the horses something to really get them going), Nya charged flat out into the clearing with two goals clearly in mind. First things first. Spook the horses crazy out of their minds - thus causing the coach to perhaps take off if it didn't have the breaks set on it, frenzying, the horses had very little chance of keeping it on the narrow road and odds are it would wreck sooner than later if they even managed to get out of the clearing. If they were trapped in the traces, perhaps rearing, kicking, etc maybe one of their handlers would get hurt before lines broke or horses got hopelessly tangled in their panic.

Secondly, she'd use her headlong charge to plow into one of the soldiers closest to her. Her tactic was simple - maul him in any way she could via the force of her bounding strides, trying to knock him over where she could pin him and rip out his belly or throat. If those parts were guarded with armor, she'd go for a limb. A shocked man without a limb couldn't run or fight very easily.

Nya didn't take the time to see if any of them had bows. She didn't even particularly care about swords. Right now all she wanted was for the rest of the people to go down. Her own safety wasn't truthfully a factor when she was this mad about what these people did and felt was okay to continue to do. It didn't even truly matter that one shoulder had stitches (that had most likely torn out with the change), and the other one was bleeding badly from the wounds she'd received moments ago. Her pain just drove her, fueled her fury, and until her blood loss was enough to bring her rage to a halt, she'd use it to destroy - if she could - what was left of the evil here.

[Gillar]

The soldiers and their apprentices moved with speed if not precision. They knew what they wanted to take and what could be left behind as they hurriedly packed their saddles, loaded the coach and readied themselves to depart the area as quickly as possible. Fear however was not something Nya had been able to detect; not the same type of fear that most humans exhibited when faced with death. These men and woman appeared to almost gain a rush from the chaos that flowed through the area following the deaths of their leaders and the systematic breakdown of their entire mission. They retained focus amidst potential distraction and even as the two soldiers worked to pack their gear, one hand was never more than a few inches from the weapons at their sides. It was when the piercing roar of the forest cat tore through the area, followed by the charging beast, that their focus shifted immediately from retreat to combat. Everything happened at once; the horses indeed were spooked save for one. Those that were spooked, did not engage in the rearing and kicking that she would have expected; at least not at first. The five, all Zavian's, remained relatively calm. The two strapped to the coach did rear a bit in place, shuffled around and vocalized their extreme hesitation but did not bolt. The other three were quick to get out of the path of the charging cat but too did not cause a great ruckus as horses may otherwise do under such conditions. All of this may have been due to the sixth horse that remained almost completely calm as Nya burst forth into the clearing. Noticeably larger than the others, this horse was a bright, blood bay color and outfitted in wickedly spiked armor with nail studded shoes. It turned its head to see Nya and out of the corner of her frenzied vision, Nya though she saw it pull its lips back and reveal a set of teeth; all sharpened similar to her own with elongated canines. This all occurring as Nya took a mighty leap at one of the soldiers with her jaws wide open. The man, while armored and armored with a short, curved-bladed sword, was unprepared for such a massive beast pouncing upon him. Looking for the most efficient killing blow in her attack, Nya clamps onto the man's face and bites down hard. The sound of shattering bone and muffled screams barely made their way into her frenzied mind. The man fell backward with the force of her pounce and the two landed several feet away. The other soldier, the woman, pulled two throwing axes free from a harness holding three on each leg. She spun them in her hands and threw them both at the same time at Nya. One missed by a few inches while the other one sliced the top of her ear clean off. The woman pulled two more free and shouted, "Alright, bitch, you wanna kill me? Let's go!" The two apprentices also picked up arms and engaged. One grabbed a crossbow leaning against the coach while the other brandished a sword and made a wide circle around Nya; taking time to prepare their attack. These were definitely not frightened humans but calculating, skilled individuals working together against a known enemy. Meanwhile, the large, fanged-horse, remained on the outer edge of the clearing. It watched all that transpired while softly grinding its spike-shod forefeet into the ground. It exuded an intelligence that transcended that of the common horse and its eyes seemed to burn with an actual desire to rend flesh yet it remained calm. -------------------------------------------------------- In his scan of the area and especially of the strange, shrine-like structure, Abashai noticed that along with the one-armed, black marble statue of the man, there lay a very bloody, very fleshy, severed arm, against one wall. Spotting the bloody trail away from the scene though led the warrior a short distance away. The familiar roar that echoed throughout the nearby forest drew him further and faster to the source. Exhausted, worried and expecting the worse, Abashai came into view of an almost epic scene unfolding. Nya, as a forest cat, stood on top of what looked to be a man. The man's head was crushed in her jaws and she had just had two axes thrown at her by a woman brandishing two more. The woman, armored and looking both hateful and excited at the same time, cried out a challenge to Nya. At the same time, two men, one with a sword and the other a crossbow, also began to move in on Nya. Nya was obviously injured, outnumbered and in fully under the control of her bestial instincts. While many of her injuries could only be guessed at, Abashai could see an obvious shard of something jutting out of one of her shoulders. Her posture as well, while being one of aggression, was also one of extreme pain. Both of her forelegs were covered in blood-matted fur as was her face. What exactly was Nya's blood and that of another was unclear from his vantage point yet Abashai was certain that she was not in very good condition. Abashai also noted the rather large, fierce looking horse covered in spiked armor though the creature seemed much less of a threat as it remained out of the combat and more or less in one spot. The other horses continued to move away from the scene, skittering about while trying to avoid all that was happening. Meanwhile, the dark presence watched on from the shadows; a humanoid shape hidden by shadows and blurred by the events transpiring all around it. A pair of milky-white eyes peered out of the darkness; enjoying every moment of pain, death and the complete breakdown of order.

[Abashai]

The thundering roar resonated off the trees and stones as Abashai propelled himself down the path. It was a familiar roar, but he had never heard it so loud and threatening. Nya had to be close. He burst into the small clearing, skidding to a halt at the edge. In a breath Abashai surveyed the shocking, deadly battle. He stared at the great bloody forest cat, gore dripping from her jaws, massive clawed paws standing on the corpse of what must have been a soldier. The dire beast crouched with primal rage, glaring at the ax-wielding soldier with bared dagger-like fangs, stained a crimson red. The sight was raw, awful and terribly dangerous.

In an instant, the benshiran drifted out of time, to a forest creek. Beside its rippling water crouched a girl, wild and feline. Her dark brindled hair reflecting the greens, golds and browns of the woods around her, piercing moss green eyes peering out from under delicate brown brows. Her young face was light and curious. That was the first day he had met Nya, the kelvic that he had shared his life with every day since.

Abashai was suddenly aware of the battle again. The Talderian Forest Cat was still there, still bloody and terrible. But he could see the feline crouch, the same moss green eyes, the sleek brindled coloring of that girl in the Bronze Woods. The beast was still his bondmate, his friend, the one person that meant more to him than any other being in the world. It allowed him to see the power and ferocity of the forest cat as beautiful and majestic. Nya was the epitome of nature's perfect predator, and his guardian. But the great cat was wounded and in danger

One breath. All his musings passed in the time it took for the female soldier's axes to slice past Nya, clipping her ear. Almost unbidden the gnosis of Yahal surged through his body one last time, his mental focus honed in on each enemy surrounding his bondmate. Nya was squared up with the soldier. Abashai turned his attention to the unarmored men flanking the cat, Then the bizarre horse lingering at the edge. The benshiran regretted that he did not have his bow in hand, ready to take out the crossbowman. Nya could dodge or deflect an ax or sword, but not a crossbow bolt. He quickly decided to take out the men, somehow. He had to charge the crossbowman. He knew it was incredibly risky, but he had to be taken out before he could take a shot at Nya. Abashai would rather be dead than to see the that killing blow strike Nya. If he could kill or disable the crossbowman in one stroke, he could quickly move to attack the second. Abashai gripped his heavy blade and rushed silently at his target, gritting his teeth grimly.

[Nya Winters]

The blood in her mouth, hot and metallic, tasted so sweet. It fed her rage even as the man died beneath her, his jawbone crunching in her mouth. She did not swallow for this was no hard won feast. Instead she roared again, swiveling her head just in time to see the woman pull the axes and throw them. Nya ducked one, easily enough, but the woman was a good solider and had calculated perhaps sacrificing one so the other was more effective. Nya didn't want it to be any more effective than the glass shard sticking out of her shoulder, so she threw herself to one side, narrowly missing an axe to the skull and instead sacrificing part of an ear. New pain flooded her, mingling with the pain in her shoulder that had been sewn up only hours ago, and the fresher pain of the pierced shoulder that still held the shard. It was a lot like fighting one of the Talderian elks she had braved as a kitten that had given her the wicked wound in her side. Everything hurt, but she moved past the pain, past the danger as her instincts rode her and demanded the woman's death.

Nya ignored the horse that showed no fear. Had she been in her human form or more in her human mind, she would have found that incredibly odd if not flat out disturbing and worthy of a closer look. But to the forest cats mind, horses were prey and thoroughly cowards so they posed no threat at all to her. They would run if they got free of their harnessing and handlers. It was what they did best to protect themselves.

Nya took two bounding leaps off the corpse, staggered then, and snarled as her bad shoulder suddenly decided it didn't want to cooperate in supporting her right leg with her lunging on someone a second time. She compensated by shifting her lead so that most of her weight came onto her left leg rather than her right and surged forward once more. She had to move fast - as fast as she could - to get to the woman before the woman could throw her second set of axes again. Axes worked if there was distance to cover, but in close quarters all the woman could hope to do was slash them into Nya. And Nya knew she was running out of time. Between being poisoned, forced to shift by the drugs over and over and over again, being cut and bruised, lacerated multiple times, her left shoulder pieced and sewn up, her right shoulder impaled by the shard, she was very very quickly running out of energy. And for some reason, the enemies just kept coming. Kill one, two more appeared. Kill them, three more appeared. Animals were more honest. They were predictable. They rarely were a threat to Nya.

The cat gathered herself, pushed off, and with the last of her great strength did something desperate. She tried to close the distance between herself and the woman with the axes all at once, coming at her from the sky with a leap only a cat could pull off. Nya knew this had to be a last ditch effort. She had to kill the woman quickl and hope the other two ran off. She knew... just knew... that if they didn't one of the two junior members, the apprentices, were going to get her. She had lost too much blood and had abused her form way to much today to keep up this kind of intense battle. But she was not willing to go out without killing as many of their own as she cold first.

Nya did not see Abashai, at least not at first. She was too focused on kill or be killed. It was probably a really good thing she didn't know he was there. Killing men had horrified him. She never forgot the way he walked away from her the day she told him that they hunted the forest cat for good reason - that she'd killed and eaten their own. Had she saw him, she would have pulled up short, froze, and then tried to crawl under the nearest rock. The distraction would have meant her death too. The last thing she ever wanted to do was to disappoint her bondmate or earn his disapproval in any way. His being here and her knowing his feelings on things and knowing what it meant to compromise Abashai's values would have been worse than taking female solider's axe square in the chest.

And had she been in her more human mind, she would have felt him close and felt his presence, just as he could feel her rage and primordial pain. It would have to wait though, the reunion, until the danger was over. Nya tried the leap, tried to get behind the woman, so she could knock the girl down and take her life. And if it didn't work she'd keep fighitng, trying to dodge axes as best she could.

Afterwards, she'd face Abashai once she saw him - if they both lived - and do what she could to salvage the situation if that was possible.

[Gillar]

Pulling herself together as much as she could, Nya made her move upon the female soldier. Her plan to close the distance quickly paid off and the soldier was unable to effectively throw her axes again. Nya's leap sent her crashing into the soldier while the woman brought her axes to bare in close quarters. If Nya would have been human, she would have died at that moment for just as one of her might paws contact the soldier's face; bringing the woman down hard on the ground with skull-crushing force, one of the woman's axes embedded itself in Nya's chest. The wound, while horribly painful, sunk into flesh yet glanced off of bone. Blood spurted forth and spilled over the soldier's dead body but the wound was not fatal for Nya. It did however serve to bring her ability to fight back to an end. With little strength left, she slumped over the soldier's body and looked up in time to see Abashai rush one of the other men. Whatever emotions were to explode within Nya's mind at that moment were interrupted by a terrible sight. As Abashai charged; blade singing in the night, the man with the crossbow turned to face the on-coming threat and released a bolt at the last moment. The man fell to the ground seconds later; his torso sliced to the bone by Abashai's sword. Everything seemed to crawl almost to stop at that point when Abashai stumbled backwards and turned slightly. A crossbow bolt protruded from his chest; a look of shock in his eyes as Abashai dropped his sword and fell to his knees. The other man armed with a sword could be heard laughing as he casually walked to where Abashai was kneeling. "Filthy savages. Killing you both will ensure my favor in the eyes of the Defiler." The man raised his sword in both hands and readied himself to cleave Abashai's head from his shoulders. Before the man could swing the sword however, a high-pitched squeal could be heard from somewhere in the trees followed by a loud creaking sound. Suddenly, the creaking gave way to a splitting, crashing sound as a massive tree branch crashed down from above and flattened the man beneath its weight; missing Abashai by inches. A strange calm fell over the area. The horses were all scattered, nervously stomping around the outskirts of the clearing. The lone, armored horse that showed no fear, remained in the same general area it had been the entire time. It watched all transpire with a look that almost pleaded for someone to bother it. Light had vanished from the forest and the only illumination now came from a handful of torches that the soldiers had set up to help them see to their retreat. The smell of blood and death hung thick in the air which was otherwise void of sound. -------------------------------------------------------------- Abashai's charge against the soldier wielding the crossbow had indeed turned the enemy's focus away from Nya but just as the two men collided, the crossbow was raised level with Abashai's chest and was fired. It was like someone lit a match to his heart as the crossbow bolt launched from the bow and sunk into Abashai's flesh. Like the cracking of ice, the pain spread throughout his body and consumed him in its fire. Abashai succeeded in bringing his blade to bare upon the man; slicing through flesh and bone and leaving a killing wound down the length of the man's torso. The success was paid for in blood however as Abashai fell to his knees; unable to push any further. It was then that he heard the man speak from behind him. He knew that it was all about to end. Abashai's own life and Nya's life as well were about to end all too soon. Then, a familiar sound echoed in his mind; the sound of a small, black and white monkey followed by a horrendous crash. Though he couldn't see behind him, Abashai knew that the man that had once stood there was gone. Lifting his head ever so slightly, Abashai, through blurred vision, recognized a furry, black and white form up in the trees before it quickly disappeared from sight. All went silent and a strange calm fell into place. ------------------------------------------------------------ Both Nya and Abashai were now alone. Abashai was quickly losing the battle with his wounds and the pain they invoked. Nya too was almost too weak to move. After many moments, regardless of what they did next, the two, in their fading moments, heard what sounded like hands clapping together repeatedly. Out of the darkness emerged a man dressed in black pants, barefoot, without a shirt. Black hair cascaded over his shoulders and from the look of his eyes, he appeared blind for they were milky white. He was smiling. "Well done! I haven't seen a show like that in ages! I would ask for an encore but from the looks of things, I don't think you're up to it."

[Abashai]

The fierce impact of the quarrel triggered a wave of pain never before experienced by the benshiran. He had every expectation that the blow would come, but could not have guessed the horror of feeling the missile pierce his flesh and enter his body. Adrenaline and divine strength staved off the physical shock, at least for an instant. Engulfed in the power of gnosis magic, his physical being enervated beyond a normal human, Abashai's momentum drove him through the blow. With grim satisfaction, the benshiran brought the heavy, archaic blade of his khopesh crashing down on his opponent, cleaving flesh and bone. The apprentice collapsed in a grisly spray of blood, spattering the desert warrior and mingling with his own, now flowing freely from the shaft in his chest and the rent flesh in his shoulder, freshly torn open during the battle.

But then his body failed. The flow of gnosis waned, that of blood increased, and shock set in. Abashai's balance wavered, and the terrible realized truth was reflected in his glassy, wide-eyed gaze...the gaze of one who faced his inevitable mortality. the crimson-stained sword slipped from weakening fingers to clatter against the ground. Legs failed to support the body and collapsed to the knees. The voice of the last apprentice, strangely hollow and distant, confirmed to Abashai that his death was indeed eminent. Then the familiar screech, the crashing of the massive limb, and the sudden silence of the last enemy penetrated the growing fog in his mind. He managed to see Rencil, that mischievous creature, before he disappeared once again. The wounded man managed to marvel one last time at the curious timeliness of the monkey's appearances.

Then an soft silence filled the clearing. Struggling to keep upright on his knees Abashai slowly, painstakingly turned his head to find Nya through his failing vision. The forest cat lay across the clearing, the mangled body of the female soldier lying next to her. He thought he saw his bondmate move, but she appeared bloody and gravely wounded. He wanted to call to her, but could not muster the breath to do so. An overwhelming pain, wholly and completely separate from his physical wounds, gripped him as his dimming eyes welled with tears. His last regret was that, though they were only yards apart, they would die alone. He ached to curl up with the forest cat, to feel Nya's warm fur, to fade from this life looking into the moss green eyes that had fascinated him from the day they met. He suddenly wished he had let her in, into his head, his heart, his world, wished he had told her he loved her, as he himself only too late realized. But then again, maybe it was best that she did not know, that he had distanced himself. Maybe he spared her from more pain in the end.

A sharp pain seized his chest. So this was it. Abashai looked down at the wooden shaft. It had struck through his open coat. His shirt was gone, already used to bandage his arm, and the bolt had punched through his bare chest. He was a bloody mess, the deep rusty smear of his own and the crossbowman's blood on his chest, his arms, and he knew his face. He managed to lift his hands slightly, turning the palms up. through the blood, he could see the dark imprints of the Shiber characters etched in his palms, the divine marks of Yahal, champion of Purity and Faithfulness. He silently prayed that he had please his Lord, that his sacrifice, though unable to save Nya, had the purest motive, to spare the life of his loved one.

Abashai could have questioned why the deity would allow him to wander so far from home, why he mark him among the Redstone Cliffs, why he allowed him to leave Zaira in Cyphrus, why bond so deeply with Nya, if he was to die a useless death in this cold wilderness. But in the surreal calm of the torch-lit clearing, the mark-bearer instead only offered thanks for these things.

Clapping. The strangeness of the sound drew Abashai's weakening attention. The dark-maned man entered the clearing, unnerving white eyes invoking a chill felt even through the pain of his wounds. The sinister man's words were mocking and confusing, but intriguing enough to allow the dying man to focus, at least long enough for an explanation.

[Nya Winters]

In every moment of time, every breath, ever heartbeat, the great cat was slowly learning more and more about life; perhaps more than she truly wanted to know. Sometimes life's questions lead to answers but almost always those answers resulted in more and more questions. It was impossible to know everything, and while Nya was well skilled in battle, her biggest flaw was her inability to determine when and where to pick her battles and when to run away. In the heat of the moment, the cat inside her - which sometimes WAS her and sometimes more recently wasn't anything like her - took control. It was a cat that didn't mind fighting to the death nor giving its own life in order to cut off another's. Nya had learned, in the last few seasons, that she wasn't always the cat nor was the cat always her. Though she'd be loathe to admit it, sometimes now she didn't like being the cat as much as she liked being the human. Nya the woman would have counted heads and taken stock and cut her losses. And truthfully the cat knew what the woman knew but didn't always care. It was making it harder and harder for her to strike a balance between her duality and live comfortably within her own skin.

Not that it mattered much now. It hurt when the axe struck her sternum and bounced off it, opening a great gash across her chest. And she knew her two front legs were going to be all but useless by the time the solider either died or Nya killed her. Lame, bleeding profusely, and with the soldiers' body finally beneath her, Nya stretched out and enjoyed the bloody grass and odd pillow for a split second before she spotted Abashai.

All she could think of as she watched him charge was how fiercely beautiful he was. His strength was gathered, focused, and he ran like a man possessed. Yet the strange curved blade he held was always in control, coming down in a deadly arch even as the crossbowman released their bolt. Nya wondered, suddenly, why she was dreaming of Abashai and how in the world her mind would conjure up his death at a time like this. The bolt hit true, though missed vital organs, and cleaved him through the torso. Nya blinked, shocked at what she was seeing, unable to believe it was real until...

Pain surged through the bond. Very real. Nya lifted her head and screamed loosing her cat shape all at once in a sudden shocking realization that Abashai was real. It was a nightmare come to life to see him fall to his knees. Nya's sudden shift hurt - badly - but it gave her a voice her wilder form did not have. She turned her head, saw the additional threat, and started to try to get up all at the same time the branch fell. Nya slumped back down, her naked chest bloody, and both shoulders in ruin. But she wanted Abashai, wanted his scent wrapped around her, his soothing voice in her ear, and more than anything else she wanted to defend him as she should have all along.

Nya had no voice left from shrieking and snarling as a cat, but she did have something else. She summoned a pair of winds to her, bright and powerful, an action that took no effort, and instructed them fiercely, pouring her will into them. The first she sent to Abashai, for she could not close the distance herself. It swirled around him, carrying her scent - a warm almost spicy musky female smell that belonged exclusively to her - and a message that he could not ever misinterpret. The wind whispered in his ears, bright and happy, not sad and tragic, of gratitude and love and delight and loyalty. He heard the notes of his own oud played back to him and felt how much the forest cat loved to hear its haunting sound. He heard his own rare laughter, rich and deeply unexpected, echoing around him with the joy it brought to the one that sent the wind. He felt, in that split instant, the loss of fear over the sharp scent of metal and could somehow experience the weight of a slight hands holding the strangely curved sword and wickedly sharp arrows and admiring the way they mixed with his own scent and somehow made the weapons less frightening. He heard himself mumble slightly in his sleep in a language the cat couldn't understand but delighted in anyhow and how sometimes she woke when he was restless, sat up where she was curled against the small of his back, and began to stroke the long hair that she so loved until he quieted and went back to sleep. Dozens of such memories flashed through his mind all at once, woven with emotion and overwhelming love. Building a lean to for Sus at the cave, chasing seagulls on the beach, nights out under the stars and endless conversations around the firelight.

The second wind went to her Lord, to the ear that always listened, and the one that in turn always sent his enjoyment of her - of late night roaming and ramblings and how sometimes she sought out the winds to stand in it and tell Zulrav of how much she loved life, and what she'd learned about it. This wind was no different. It was filled with the similar emotions and profound thanks for letting her serve him. She didn't ask for his help or his mercy. She knew better for it shamed her to think she could have handled the situation better. But she did ask for his forgiveness and promised in the next life to come back knowing the lessons she lacked in this one.

She couldn't go to Abashai. Nya couldn't lick the blood from his wounds and stand over him promising him that it would be okay. It wouldn't. And she simply had no strength left. Her wounds were not fatal, she knew that, but Abashai's looked bad and without him in the world and more importantly in her life, there seemed little meaning or reason to even want to get better. She'd seen too much death and now fought two equally hopeless battles so she knew the truth of it. But she could give him this last little bit, the last glimpse of truth on how much she loved being his bondmate. And so she did, hoping that somehow all her love and devotion would comfort him even as the crossbolt stole from him that which should have been his and only his - his life.

The clapping alarmed her. She lifted her head, brindled hair mixed with blood flowed down around her shoulders. Nya surged to her feet, swayed, and went down on her hands and knees - hands that wouldn't hold her with the damage in her shoulder. It was an undignified position, especially for a human, so she rolled to her side, ripping another wound further open that only stole more blood from her.

She hissed at the God. Nya had been in the presence of one other, and knew enough to recognize one when she saw them. Rage filled her, refueling her enough to give her a voice. "This was all for you? They did this all for you and here you are mocking their deaths and delighting in our pain and struggle." Even as her new strength left and she sank back down on her side, the forest cat turned human, kept talking. "I know you." She hissed again, the milky white eyes giving her an idea from her mother's discussions on the Gods, who this creature could be. There would be no deals from this creature. No mercy. No sanity. Far better people than she was had taken on the task of battling him and had failed, some even loosing their lives. "And you will not have him... he belongs to Yahal. You will not have me... I belong to Zulrav. All we can be for you is entertainment, and that will only last but a moment more. So go. Let us at least leave this world in peace." The forest cat hissed, her voice broken and pain filled. It was weakening too, growing fainter as more of her blood spilled out on the ground. She wanted nothing to do with the God, nothing at all. And she wanted Abashai safe from him as well. Better death - far better for both of them - than to have this one touch them at all in any way or owe him. Nya bared her teeth again, ineffective in her human shape, but her defiance written all over her expression.

And then she did the only thing she could think of to do to fight the god and all he stood for. She let the calmness of knowing there was nothing she could do infuse her. She filled herself up with the peace she had found knowing Abashai and in loving him the way she did. She thought of the wind oak and matilda and father Glav and all the people in her life that were so happy and balanced. And in doing so, she found Abashai's bond too, and in that moment it became a more tangible thing - a direct link for her - and she reached through it this time not using the wind to convey her message, but the link itself. She grabbed onto his spirit with mental claws and held it within him - held it to her - not to prevent his death for she was certain she couldn't do that. But because she wanted to fill him with the same peace that suddenly found her. She pushed all the calmness and love and devotion and all the positive energy of the people she knew in their lives and shoved it as hard as she could through the bond and into him. Nya knew Abashai was going to die. She could see the evidence by looking at the crossbow protruding front and back from his chest. But she wasn't going to let him die in pain, frustrated, or regretful. If he was going to die, he was going to die without regret, filled to overflowing with joy and love and laughter and devotion.

It was the only defiant thing Nya could do to fight Rhysol. So even if he took Abashai from her... or took her own life... he wasn't going to do it in his way and feed his delight. She was a stubborn cat - her mother and fathers offspring - and one that knew how to hang onto something (usually prey) long past the time one should definitely let go. And she wasn't going to let go of Abashai. Not now. And not to him.

[Gillar]

The contrast between all that occurred over the past few hours and the silence that now surrounded them was as sharp as a skilled soldier's blade. The clapping and the strange voice of the dark man pierced the silence in a way similar to that of a tooth punching through flesh and slowly sinking in. It had a familiar tone that Nya, even in her pain and turmoil-flooded mind, could recognize. It was the same voice that spoke to her from the shadows during her conflict with Dral and Calinthar. Seemingly unaware or uncaring of the internal happenings of the two mortals before him, the dark man walked over to one of the dead soldiers and nudge the body with his foot. It was then that the wind began to pick up ever so slightly. The man looked up and cocked his head to the side as if struck with an odd thought. He turned back to Abashai and Nya. Whether he heard what was sent on the wind or if he did and cared, went unnoticed as the bulk of Nya's words and emotions were swept outward, swirling around and through Abashai and off into the beyond to where she hoped Zulrav was listening. Shortly after, Nya's rage, the boiling anger of both man and animal, provided her with strength enough to speak. Abashai, even through the haze created by the wind that carried Nya's thoughts, could hear her words as she addressed the dark man. She first questioned him and challenged his handling of the death of his followers and she spoke of who he was. She laid claim on herself and on Abashai in the name of others. Even at her words, the dark man simply watched her, a strange smile as well as an odd softness upon his face. Nya followed it all by solidifying her very being in a shell of calm and focus. Finally, after not having said a word in many moments, the dark man spoke again. His voice was like sap slowly dripping down the side of a tree. "Now, now, Nya, I know very well who you both claim allegiance to though I care not. Also, there's no need for such hostile words to be exchanged between us. I'm not here to take either of you." The man walked away from the soldier's corpse and moved to stand between Abashai and Nya. "Your mother spoke of me. She spoke of Rhysol, the father of lies; the bringer of corruption and evil; the hand of strife and chaos. Avoid falling into his trap; his web of lies for you will be swallowed whole." He turned his gaze from Nya to Abashai. "So many of you blindly hate and judge me. You're taught from birth that I am evil incarnate." The man, the god, Rhysol, turned his gaze from the two and looked up to the sky. His voice dropped to a whisper easily heard in the forest silence. "It's all true." He looked back down at Abashai and then to Nya. "I've been watching you both since that wretch, Calinthar, dared seek my attention." Rhysol held up his hand and the familiar shape of a severed arm materialized in his grasp. He held the bloody appendage for a moment before tossing it to the ground in front of Nya. "Whereas your respective masters allow for failure and lack of humility, I do not. You say I mock the deaths of those who died serving me?" Rhysol laughed out-loud and continued, "They lacked the humility needed to serve me. They dared assume my grace upon them. They proved unworthy of the task I set for them; they failed the test as it were." His voice became somewhat playful then as he took a short sprint to the fallen tree limb behind Abashai and sat down. "Besides, with my guidance of course, you both succeeded where the others failed. You, Abashai, helped rid me of inept soldiers while Nya, you provided me with the heart of my new shrine. It's for that reason that I am here now; call it, payment for services rendered." Pushing himself from the tree limb, Rhysol leaped forward and landed back in the spot between the two wounded mortals. "Nya, your defiance is admirable but unnecessary." As he spoke, Nya felt herself lose control of her own body as it forced itself to stand. The pain was immense and she could not fathom how her body could do it. Rhysol casually walked to and then behind her as Nya stood; her body nude, paralyzed and unable to move. He looked to Abashai and a brief smile flashed across his face before he leaned in and whispered in Nya's ear. "Now my dear, for your reward." Rhysol lifted his hand to Nya's neck and softly ran his fingers over her skin. His touch was cold at first but grew warmer, almost comfortable. His fingers trailed down the flesh of her shoulder as he used both hands now. Nya remained motionless as Rhysol brought his touch to the wounds on each arm and shoulder. As his fingers contacted the splits and tears in the flesh, the wounds sealed instantly leaving but a few scars in place. The shard of glass in her shoulder turned to dust and drifted away. The stitches in her other arm also vanished as the wound sealed. Bringing one hand across her body to rest on her chest, the touch of Rhysol healed the wound there as well. As the wounds healed, Nya's pain vanished and the calm she had fought to fill herself with, was complete. Rhysol released Nya from his touch yet she still could not move as he walked over to Abashai. Looking down at the warrior, Rhysol chuckled lightly, "I hope you don't plan on rushing anymore loaded crossbows again anytime soon. That was really stupid. Now, up on your feet." Rhysol made a lifting motion with his hand and Abashai felt his body obey and slowly stand. The pain, while there, did not prevent his movement. Rhysol reached out and pulled the bolt from Abashai's chest. Blood spurted forth and the fire of pain returned a hundred fold. "No, no, back in you go." Rhysol pointed to the spurting blood with a forefinger and the crimson fluid stopped mid spurt before shooting back into Abashai's chest as if reality itself was reversed. The blood pulled back into his body and the wound, all of his wounds, began to close; leaving only scars. In moments, the pain that threatened to drag Abashai into darkness, was gone. Rhysol stepped back from Abashai and walked over to the side of the clearing where the large, armored horse with the teeth of a predator stood. The horse's threatening stance melted as Rhysol lifted his hand to brush his fingers through its mane. Speaking over his shoulder, "I know what you're thinking, Nya. You didn't ask for my help nor do you want it. You'd prefer to die here, filled with internal peace and spiritual defiance. And you, Abashai, would readily accept death if it served some greater purpose. I can't have any of that. I like you two; you make me laugh and you get the job done." Rhysol returned to stand between the two. Now, my new friends, as fun as this has been, it's getting boring and I have a rather tasty date with my wife and one of her new "children". By the way, I wouldn't go messing around with the new shrine too much if I were you. The new guardian doesn't exactly like you very much, Nya. I guess getting your arm bit off tends to make some people a bit...testy." Rhysol looked once more from Nya to Abashai. He brought his hand to his face and blew a kiss before exploding into thousands of jasmine petals that blanketed the entire clearing.

[Abashai]

Abashai's failing heart sank as he reflected on his regrets. He would never be able to seek his family's forgiveness, never be able to express gratitude to Omri for his sacrifice, never be able to show love to Nya. The shattering pain of those realizations threatened to snuff his last breath. But, even as the dark man stepped into the clearing, the dying man caught the familiar scent of the forest cat in a gentle breeze that surrounded him. The slight gust spoke to him, fed him precious images of his own bondmate's memories. In an instant Abashai knew Nya's heart. More than her uniquely expressive words could ever reveal, the wind unveiled a faithful friend who cared for him, even when he did not know it. Her incredible gift of love fulfilled its purpose as it swept away his sorrow. Had he strength to, his blood-stained lips would have curled into a grin.

Abashai could not see Nya, but heard her broken voice defy the dark god, the kelvic cat in human form defending all that she had left, her soul and that of her bondmate. The benshiran, helpless to do anything but cling to life, struggled to do so long enough to witness Nya's fate. Then his bondmate reach into him. He felt her presence not only with him, but inside him. Their bond became something he could feel so strongly, as if he could reach in and grab it in his hands. Every good thing that Nya was embraced him, clung to him. It was a profound intimacy between them that excelled any physical touch. Even above the gnosis of his God, the gentle but fierce flood of love and devotion overwhelmed him and sustained him.

Then the dark god spoke. Indeed, Rhysol stood in opposition to all that Yahal stood for, and to hear that the Defiler had used Abashai as a weapon in his hand, hand endangered Nya's life, grieved the benshiran greatly. But he could not resent the god's sense of obligation to repay the mortals. Abashai watched as the maligned deity raised his bondmate up and healed her wounds. Even as Rhysol's corrupt power raised his own torn body to its feet, the benshiran realized the Liar had given him a gift that he may not have intended, or did and did not care. The dark events of the day had produced fruit. The machinations of the dark god had intensified, deepened the bond between the human and kelvic.

As Rhysol himself vanished and the flower petals gently settled to the ground, Abashai found a bit of clarity. Stepping back from the brink of an abyss, he could simply see the whole of his life. Those things that mattered and those that did not were plainly separated. What he wanted became a firmer vision, what he needed to do more defined.

He turned to look at Nya. In the surreal atmosphere of the torch-lit clearing, his seemingly insignificant fabric of defenses suspended, the woman's nudity did not bother him. He admired her form, lovely, feminine but strong. Even as the blood dried on her cream skin and matted in her long brindled hair, he marveled at her. Others would say she was attractive, but to Abashai she was beautiful. He had seen her heart. He knew now that he loved Nya, wanted his life entwined with hers. Even in ways he had been afraid to admit before.

He tested his renewed body and moved quickly over to Nya. He held out his hand to her, looked deeply into her green eyes with his own. "Nya, thank you. Thank you for saving me, thank you for showing me." Abashai's overflowing emotions threatened to spill out in an incoherent flood. But he was still a man of control, and he would reveal them all to her in time. He did not want to rush and threaten to unbalance the maturing bond between them. They were still a long way from home, in a very strange and sinister place. But he wanted her to understand one thing right now.

He took her hand, then gently pulled her to him and embraced her. His hand went to her head, caressing her hair. He pressed his cheek against hers, kissed the soft skin and quietly spoke in her ear. "I was afraid I was going to lose you Nya. Do you know how much you mean to me?" Probably not, he thought. He pulled back slightly, still holding her, to look into her sweet blood-smudged face. "You are my family and more, you are a part of me Nya that I could not stand to lose." He smiled a warm, disarming smile. "Do you know that I love you?"