The Dying Village

The Dying Village

The Mage twitched the reigns of the Lanky black and it stopped in the centre of the village square, hooves chaffing the dust into little clouds. The cowled hood moved, hidden eyes scanning the quiet houses and shops. Nothing else moved in the street, but here and there a pale face peered from a window, or a curtain twitched almost convulsively. Not even a bird sang in the bent, brown leafed trees in the centre of the square. Wrongness hung heavy in the air.
As the Mage swung down from the saddle, a door at the northern end of the square creaked open slowly. Snatching up the reigns in a leather gloved fist, the Mage marched smartly across the square towards the opening door. A grey faced woman with lank hair and dull eyes peered round the door. Her face was almost expressionless in a hopeless way, as if the worst in her life had happened already and she was just waiting for an end to it all.
The Mage stopped short a few feet in front of her, but despite the distance the black swathed figure seemed to loom over the woman. The woman looked up as if trying to find the face inside the cowl of the cloak, but her demeanour was too slack for her to seem afraid. The Mage pushed back the hood to reveal her face. Long black ringlets tumbled around her heart-shaped face, accentuating the strong slant of her high cheek -bones. Her green eyes were too hard for her to appear ladylike in spite of the ringlets and the fine silk of the cloak, the eyes of a veteran soldier in fact. Her skin was lightly bronzed, but smooth and faultless after the manner of all Magii. She appeared to be very young still, perhaps little more than 20 cycles, but the depth of her eyes told a different story.
"Greetings Mistress, I am Kara Fortuyn Magii. I require lodgings for the night at least, perhaps for some days," she said in a low, husky voice. She spoke softly and quietly, but her words carried easily on the stagnant air.
"Madre bless you, Mistress Magii. I have rooms in my Inn here, I hope they will meet with your approval," She inclined her head in what may have once been a gracious gesture, but now appeared tired.
"Madre bless you, Mistress. May it please the suns that I have your name?" Kara asked.
"My name is Tala Barson, Mistress Magii. Tala Barson," she sounded almost puzzled at the sound of her own name. Suddenly she clapped her hands, and Kara gave the area a quick suspicious scan with her eyes. Outwardly she didn't even seem to take note of the noise.
Two boys came running from around the side of the Inn, boys of about ten cycles who were ash blonde and pasty faced. There eyes were slightly overlarge and wide, but they were as dull as Mistress Barson's. They took Kara's Black by the reigns and walked toward the wide stable doors to the left of the Inn with their heads down and not a single glance in Kara's direction.
As Kara followed Mistress Barson into the Inn, her skin felt a little cold from the strangeness of the town. Tentatively she reached out, drawing power from around her, not the core. She was a little disturbed at how sluggishly it drew to her. The air around her eventually condensed a little, but there was nowhere near enough for her to be able to make even a tiny drop of rain, or to stir the air a little with the faintest breeze. It would take a deal of effort to draw a useful amount to her. Mistress Barson walked on in front of her, leading her up a set of stairs after passing through a common room which was quiet as a grave, despite there being two or three people sat close to a small fire clutching ale. They stared into the bottom of their tankards and paid no heed to her passage through the room, even ignoring each other in much the same manner.
At the top of the stairs Mistress Barson walked along a narrow corridor and stopped at the very end. She opened the door there and waited for Kara to walk before her. It was obvious at first glance that this was the finest room in the inn, it had a wide bed on a strong wooden frame, with engravings carved on the corner pieces of the short posts and on the head and foot board. The covers were embroidered and the curtains were heavy. There was also a dressing table with a large oval mirror and a tall wardrobe. But everything in the room was covered with a layer of fine dust, and the air was stale as if the windows had not been opened in some time.
"The boys will be up with your luggage just shortly, Mistress Magii. I've no private dining room, but I'll have..."she hesitated a moment then and frowned slightly as if she had forgotten something, then her face became emotionless again and she continued, "I can bring up your supper for you, if you wish,"
"The common room seems quiet enough, I can eat in there," Kara answered with a smile.
"Yes, it is quiet nowadays," the frown returned for a moment, then she looked at Kara.
"Is there anything else you need Mistress Magii?"
"Yes, Mistress Barson," Kara hesitated a moment as Mistress Barson looked at her expectantly, Is there a sickness in this town? I saw none of the normal signs, but it does seem to be quiet about here,"
Again the Innkeeper frowned, this time a little more deeply.
"No, Mistress Magii," she began slowly as if she were unsure, It's just quieter round here these days, quieter than it once was," and with that she gave a nod of her head and left.
Kara stood in the middle of the floor watching the woman's retreating back, lost in thought. Slowly she peeled her cloak from her shoulders, revealing the row of silver knives about her waist and the scabbard less sword hanging on her left hip. On her black silk shirt the sleeves were embroidered with silver thread in the shape of sworls and knots, as were the sides of her knee length black leather riding boots. Her black leather breeches and her sword belt were plain though. Not a dainty woman, she was taller than most men and muscled like an agile cat. She moved with the deadly grace of a blademaster, not the subtle glide of most magii women. She threw her cloak over the back of the dressing table chair and threw herself onto the bed to think, her feet resting against on of the posts, her head on one hand.
She had felt the pull of the village from several miles out, she had been passing along the Great Road between the city of Hardravil and the border town of Kaffin and the tug had brought her off it onto the thin track that wound down into the little river side valley where this village lay. She wasn't even entirely sure what the village was called. The closer she got to it though, the less life and vibrance there was in the surrounding land. A mile out the birds had mostly stopped singing, and by the time she came to the first house, she heard nothing but the occasional caw from a crow. It had been late spring when she turned off the Great Road that morning, but now it seemed much more like autumn. A warm, muggy autumn.
She had encountered this sort of pull before, but never with either this strength or visible effect. She chewed her bottom lip as she calculated what that might mean, and tried to recall some hint from the histories she had read many times.
There was a soft knock on the door, and Kara snapped to her feet and crossed to open the door in a few, quick strides. One of the stable boys stood there mutely holding out her saddle bags. She took them from him but he ran off before she managed to thank him, his eyes on the floor in front of him the whole time. Suddenly an old anger welled up in her, and she tossed the saddle bags onto the bed and marched out of the room.
As she rushed down the stairs and out of the front of the Inn, not a single one of the patrons in the common room looked up. She found herself back at the centre of the square again, spinning round to look in every window for movement. Controlling her temper, she drew up a tiny bit of power from the core, feeling it trickle through her, and let it drift raw on the air. With her eyes she followed its movement, spiralling lazily through the air like smoke caught in a draft. It drifted slowly out of the square, so she walked after it, casually drawing up from the core to ready herself. It wafted out towards the river, on the far side of the village to the side she came in on and as she watched it drifted over the rise of a small hill and was whipped into a spin near a small plume of smoke that was drifting up into the air. It quickly formed a small vortex and then funnelled out of sight beneath the rise. Hairs stood up all over her body and her spine went cold. She guessed what lay beyond the rise would be a small hut like house. Most villages had one on their borders in this country for quarantining the sick, and most were run by the Brotherhood of Filis - a healing Priesthood dedicated to that particular sun. A reclusive group which carried out vows of silence for most of their lives.
But she knew that whoever claimed to be the healers in this village were most definitely not. They would be Soul-Stealers, and at least four or five, judging by the strength of their pull.
The only she had encountered more than one Soul-Stealer, someone she had loved deeply had been killed, and she forced to watch them die. In her rage and frustration, she had discovered the Tempest. And as the last of them lay dying on the end of her blade, its last words had become etched into her memory. "We return, and He shall lead us to victory over all Magii. You will be our slaves,"
Suddenly a crow flew shrieking from a tree to her left, making swiftly for the smoke over the hill. She caught the flash of blood red feathers round each of its eyes and went rigid. Dark Crow. After a moment's hesitation, she sprung into a sprint after it, knowing full well that it would alert the occupants of the house over the hill to her presence. As she ran, her left hand was resting on the hilt of her sword, ready to draw it instantly. As she crested the hill she saw a man come out of the cottage at a run, dressed in the thick robes of a brother with a pendant of Filis hanging round his neck, but the milk white stone on it shone with Life Force. She wrenched her sword free of its belt loop and began to draw deeply on the core. As soon as he saw her, fire leapt from his hands and she threw herself forward down the slope to avoid it. She rolled and came to her feet, taking those few seconds to push out a shield of power. The monk at the door stood at bay, drawing again on the life force in his pendant, but holding it. She stepped slowly towards him, sword held low in front of her. Preparing the power she held to her, she drop the shield for a split second and let loose a blast of her own fire, hotter and more intense than most could manage. It poured towards him and spread out like water when it hit his chest. He let out a brief scream and pitched forward onto the ground, thrashing to put the bright flames out. A sudden flare of pain across her right shoulder made her slam up her shield again. The smell of singed flesh hit her nostrils, gritting her teeth but otherwise ignoring it she saw three more monks slowly moving out from the doorway behind where the first one had fallen. One of them was using power to smother the flames on him, but the injured monk was cursing loudly.
"Put down your sword, Mage, and we will make it mostly painless for you," the nearest of the three standing said, his voice raspy and mocking.
Kara said nothing, but swung her blade in her grip and began to advance.
"Does the core grow so weak already that Magii need to go armed?" another sneered. Kara just smiled bitterly, hate sparkling her eyes, and came on.
As she drew level with the one she had already felled, he was struggling to his feet. Without missing a step, she drew a dagger with her right hand from her belt and threw it at the man after a split second sideways glance. It thudded into his chest and once more he pitched forward. This time he fell with a heavy thud and stayed quiet. In the split second she had looked away though, all three of the Soul-Stealers before her began drawing from their pendants, but as their fellow went down, as one they began to draw from him. Kara forced the power she held through her muscles, and it flooded her, sharpening her senses, yet dislocating herself from her body so that sensation was numbed. She breathed, hearing her breath rasp loudly in her ears then her heart thudded with a great throb, and time slowed. As a thick fist of fire streaked towards her she pivoted sideways and spun on her heel letting her sword fly out in a wide low arc. One of the three staggered suddenly, as the other two jumped back, but they moved as if the air was treacle and Kara was already pressing forward on the two as they struggled to keep their balance. With a darting thrust the point of her sword caught the chain of a pendant and with a twist of her wrist the chain sliced and the pendant began to fall away from the body of its owner. Slowly, to her senses, he moved to catch it so she flicked her blade again and sent the chain flying into the air.
But the one to her other side was by far the strongest of the three and was moving to the same beat of time as her. As she began to turn to face him she felt the bite of him drawing life force from her through the scorched, raw burn on her arm. Struggling against the current of that pull, she forced herself another beat faster in time. She began to draw from around her, as hard and as fast as she could. The air thickened around her and began to crackle with static. Her focus grew pin sharp, the rage of storms beat inside her, mingling with the subtler power of the core. The world seemed to grow around her, as light itself began to bend toward her. She stopped drawing, and let the air around her go almost rigid, and tense as a coiled spring flashing sparks sporadically around her. Then she let it loose, pushing it away from her with all the power she contained inside herself. It rippled outwards, a sudden gust of a hurricane with teeth of lightning. She collapsed to her knees as it rolled out from her, fighting with all she had left against the drain of the Soul-Stealer, her fingers clutched round the hilt of her sword as she leant heavily on it, her knuckles white with the strain.
The blast touched the first of the three surviving Soul-Stealers and his feet were swept from under him. Breath was punched out of his chest at the same time that a jolt of static wracked him, and when he hit the ground he was unconscious. Even before that the second was hit and began to go through the same painful process. The last one, still drawing greedily at Kara's life force had a few moments notice, and hastily let go of Kara and tried to throw up a shield to protect himself form the onrush of the Tempest. Even so the blow knocked him off his feet. Breathing hard, she dropped back into the normal Growling behind her teeth, Kara dragged herself to her feet and advanced on the prone figure of the last Soul-Stealer. Drawing again on the core, finding it painful now after so much use and the attack by the Soul-Stealer, she threw a block at the Soul-Stealer, using the residues of his attack on her to find his drawing point and jamming it shut with a block of her own power. His eyes rolled up to the top of his head and he fainted with the shock of being so cut off.
She drove her sword point into the ground and leaned heavily on it, surveying the scene. Wincing as she drew, she reached out and probed the other two for drawing points, then slammed up shields on them too. Then she winced more as she saw the destruction the Tempest had wrought before it had run out of steam. The cottage had taken most of the brunt of that, and now there was a huge smoking hole in one side of it, but many of the trees in the vicinity had been buckled and blackened by it too. The ground too was singed where the blast had rolled over it, but the ring of destruction was relatively small, the smouldering grasses stopped about halfway up the small rise before the cottage. Smoke filled the air, acrid to her as she struggled to regain her breath.
She realized she should be satisfied. Three of the four she'd kept alive for trial at the temple, which was a much better ratio than the last such encounter she'd had. In fact she'd handled four Soul-Stealers alone, which was more than any other Magii in the recorded history of the temple, though the "Wild Years" before the temple had been established were not recorded at all. Even being still alive was something to be satisfied of, but the greater portent of their being as many, strong Soul-Stealers in this out of the way place, posing as the Brothers of a peaceable order was a portent that gnawed at her. Those words from long ago swam before her again, We return, and He shall lead us to victory over all Magii. You will be our slaves.
Unwillingly, she found herself going back over the events of that day.

15 years before, she had been riding out along the road to the great city of Talmathan, with Deiter Varyn, who had been first her teacher and then her lover. It had been a hot day in late summer, far too hot for her Massinian blood, when they came into the little town of Hamwil on the main route to Talmathan. Most of the towns on the route were busy little merchant towns, thriving on the trade going up and down the road, and Hamwil would have been the same but that there was a group of three Soul-Stealers, three sisters, living in the place. They had slowly leeched away the life of the town, lending it a murderous reputation, as many travellers had been known to go missing there. They fed off the life passing through snatching men from the common rooms of the taverns as they plied a trade as barmaids.
She had known from the start there was something amiss in the place, as had Deiter, but the signs were not as strong . In the common room that night though, one of them took an interest in Deiter.
A small woman, but plump in a manner that many men find pleasing, she wove her way through the tables with ease. Local men gave her glassy smiles, but travellers would try to catch her by the arm as she passed. Deftly she avoided these, flashing a smile at whoever had tried to grab her. It was the smile that Deiter had first noticed, not a friendly, homely smile, but predatory smile, with her eyes flashing dangerously rather than sparkling. He leaned forward across the table to Kara and whispered softly.
"That girl, she looks like she's marking the travellers for herself. There's something wrong with her,"
Kara sat wrapped in a long dark cloak from head to foot, but it was parted to show her knives and sword. She could pass easily as a hired sword in this manner, and in fact had done so before many times. She twitched the cowl of her cloak a little further down and nodded slowly to Deiter. She drew a tiny thread of power from the core, and pushed it gently towards the girl. Such a little amount that she wouldn't have been surprised if Deiter hadn't been able to see it, Kara had a special talent in seeing such small uses of power. With a normal person or a Magii, the thread should just drift round them, but a Soul-Stealer would simply absorb it. The little tendril brushed the girl's cheek, turned and sank into a point between her breasts. Kara would have bet on there being some kind of Soul-Stealers Life Well hidden beneath the cloth of the girl's top.
Kara leaned across the table and laid a hand on Deiter's arm. He looked at her and she spoke quietly, so quietly that only another Magii could have heard at that distance.
"Darkling," the Massinian word for Soul-Stealer.
He tilted his head to one side, and in the eye of her memory he looked truly beautiful. He had eyes like blue ice, that she had always felt could see straight into her soul, and he was doing that then. His hair tumbled in an unruly way about the edges of his face, ash blonde and soft. The skin of his pale face was youthful, making him appears somewhere around 20 cycles, but he was closer to 5 times that age. His eyes were narrowed, his jawline set and there was no hint of his usual sardonic amusement about him. He was posing as a young noble that day, and was wearing a white silk shirt and a blue velvet coat that matched his eyes to perfection, making them seem even more piercing than ever.
She knew when he straightened up that he had made a decision, and knew what it was when he whispered back to her.
"Remember, I love you, his eyes were burning with their intensity, holding hers as tightly as if he had had his arms around her.
"Always, her voice rasped hoarsely.
He smiled then, humour playing across his lips, but his eyes didn't change their expression. Scooping up his wineglass, he turned and waved it at the girl.
"More wine here, my pretty, and a tankard of ale too for my retainer,
The girl looked across the room and smiled her vipers smile. With a sway of her hips she walked towards him. Kara focused on the flame of the candle on the table and ran her mind through the exercises to Hold Fear that her father had taught her as a small girl. That blocked out the sound of the girls suggestive chatter and saucy laugh.
"I've a sister who might be happy to keep your man there warm tonight, leapt out of the conversation at her. From the dangerous smile spread on the girls lips to the darkness in her eyes, Kara had no doubt that this "sister was as much a Soul-Stealer. The girl's glance in her direction as if trying to weigh her up helped to confirm her suspicion.
"Shh, sweet, my retainer is from Damland. That sort of talk is a whipping offence for a lass up there, Deiter said quickly, then went on with a dangerous smile of his own, I might have warmth enough for both of you tonight and save my retainer the affront to his dignity,
The girls eyes widened, and she feigned an interested shock, which gave way quickly to outright interest. She looked him up and down, her hand resting splayed on her breastbone, and Kara had to fight to suppress a shudder as she saw the girls thumb lightly caress something which lay hidden there. The Life Well she had guessed on earlier for sure.
"I've two sisters, handsome. Are you warm enough for three? The girls voice dripped amusement.
Kara's heart hammered in her chest, but she slowed it with the same holding as she had used before, yet the implications of what the girl said rang in her head. Deiter simply smiled again, not a flicker of the emotion he must be feeling inside crossed his face.
"Why don't you come up to my room tonight and find out? he said.
"We share a house, the last on the eastern road when you leave town. Come visit us there, and bring your retainer. I'm sure we can find some use for him, and she giggled lightly. Deiter smiled brightly at her, and drained his wine cup.
"Then I shall see you there, but now I have to get a bath and get the dust out of my hair, and he began to rise to his feet. Kara jumped to her feet also, ready to follow him.
The girl put a hand on his arm and went up on tiptoes to whisper something to him, and he nodded, chuckling softly. As she turned, he gave her a proprietary pat on the bottom, and she giggled over her shoulder at him, then went off back across the tavern.
Deiter watched her go, expression thoughtful, then he gave a quick jerk of his head to Kara and headed off up the stairs to their rooms.
As soon as she closed the door to his room, he began cursing in such a fluid torrent of language that even her soldier's composure was ruffled.
"Madre cursed Soul-Stealer bitch! The little, whoring, murdering tavern slut has bloody sisters does she? Three of them, three darkling whores! Three harridans in the harem of hell!
"And some fool man has agreed to meet them! We should have got out of this place as soon as we knew but if we leave now there's a chance they will guess at why, she cut through his tirade.
She threw her hood back now and glared at him with her brilliant green eyes. He opened his mouth to counter her, then shut it firmly with a snap as it dawned on him just how dangerous a position they were suddenly in.
"Sometimes, Deiter Varyn, I think Dera is right when she says you need kept on a leash! His eyes blazed at the mention of his sisters name, but he coloured very slightly, knowing he was very much in the wrong.
Kara breathed and let calm filter through her. The situation was too dangerous for woolly thinking, and now that they had cornered themselves, they had to come up with a plan to get them out of it.
"Right, now we have that out of the way, what exactly should we do. Running is not, as I said, an option.
He caught hold of the dressing table chair and spun it round so that he could flop onto it. Running his fingers through his hair he looked thoughtful, eyes narrowing briefly before he looked back up at her.
"We'll have to go to them,
"Well, it's as simple as that then is it? After all there are only three of them, and two of us. They are, after all, only capable of killing at least one of us. What are we waiting for? Kara didn't realise she was shouting until there was a knock on the door in the following silence. Quickly she snatched up her hood to cover her face again as Deiter called on them to enter.
A girl came in, of average height but slender. A soft, amused smile played on her lips. A smile that was made startling by the fact of her very close resemblance to the tavern girl.
"I came to draw your bath, but when I heard that there was a woman in here, her eyes flicked very deliberately to Kara standing by the door, I must have been mistaken, of course,
Kara walked round behind the girl and closed the door, quietly but firmly. Even as it clicked shut, she knew Deiter was drawing and pushing a thread of power towards the girl. The girl looked from Deiter to Kara, but her face was calm, and her smile did not drop at all. This time Kara actually saw the glow through the material of the girls cotton blouse.
"Milly said to me she thought you might be Magii, the girl said now, her hand moving up to thoughtfully caress the stone through the fabric. She looked utterly unafraid, "There's been rumours around here for weeks that a Magii with a hired sword was travelling the road, although is some places the rumour is of two Magii, one who is a woman with a sword, She looked back over her shoulder at Kara and her smile broadened.
"Milly is never wrong about these sorts of things, it's a talent she has, reading people,
Stubbornly refusing to push back her cowl, Kara growled.
"Where are your other sisters? she snarled,  You are alone with us here, girl,
Even as she spoke she was drawing, and she knew that Deiter would be. They had to press home their advantage while they had it.
"If I were truly alone, Magii, would I have walked in here knowing what you both were ? She spoke in a hiss, her voice dripping scorn.
Then sudden pain had seared it's way through her, forcing the power she held to back into the core through the grounding stream. Compounding the shock of the pain came the awful, intrusive sensation of a block being forced between herself and the core, cutting her off and throwing black specks into her vision. Almost convulsively she clutched at her sword, but staggered as she drew it. In the corner of her vision she saw Deiter slide from the chair to the ground, his eyes rolling to the top of his head and his face slack with unconsciousness. Rage gave her some balance back and she leapt at the girl with her sword, roaring, but bounced off a shield that the girl had thrown up. She tried to stagger to her feet, but she could see the glow beneath the girls blouse intensifying, and then felt a second, sickening wave of pain gnaw at every part of her. She collapsed to her knees and fought with every ounce of her remaining strength to stay conscious. Another young woman walked into her field of vision then, as similar to the other two as they were to each other, and then the tavern maid, Milly, so that all three of them stood shoulder to shoulder in front of her. And all three had the same glow between their breasts.
"A human might have been fooled by that little act, Magii, but I was not, Millie told her coldly.
As blackness reached out to claim her, Kara saw the glow of the Life Wells grow almost dazziling. She howled at the pain, fighting it until the very second that the blackness claimed her entirely.

"Kara! the scream pulled at the edge of darkness, opening it to fragments of scattered light.
"Kaaaaraaaaa! The fragments of light burned, and she tried as best as she could to get away from them, but the screaming voice burned her even more. It tore at her in fact, and she found herself reaching for it, fending the darkness off.
"Kara! With dread and shock, she realised it was Deiter who was screaming. Screaming her name. She thrust herself into the light, accepting the pain and scrabbling to draw at the core by tearing at the edges of the block that was there. She found that she was tied, her hands behind her back, tied to something. It seemed mostly immaterial, but she concentrated herself on remaining motionless. They must not know she had wakened.
"What can she do for you, Magii boy? The more you fight us like this, the more life force you give us, there was something akin to approval in that voice.
Deiter ignored it and screamed again.
"Kara!!
Focus came to her, and her eyes sought him in the dingy little room. He was tied across a bed, naked and spreadeagled with each wrist and ankle bound to a different post. He was just a few feet away from her, with all three of the Soul-Stealers around him. One of the women held a knife, which she had already used liberally on him. His chest was slashed many times, and slick with blood, his thighs too. Blood pooled under him which told her his back had been given similar treatment. His hair was slicked to his scalp with sweat.
The other two women held Life Wells in their left hands. The Life Wells glowed with a dull sickly red light which was nothing like the light of the wells being used. They were filling them, with Deiter's life force.
Fury boiled in her veins, and she scrabbled furiously toward the core, battering and tearing at the block between her and it in a wild rage. It gave not an inch, and terror filled her.
"Kara! He screamed again as the woman with the knife made another slash across his chest.
Blinding pain exploded in her head with every blow she struck at the block in her desperation. Darkness began to well again at the corners of her vision, but she still fought the block. Then with one blow the pain came back so powerful that she could not prevent herself from jerking.
But the women were concentrating on Deiter, and had not noticed her moving. She reached again tentatively toward the block, and the pain seared through her again. It was all she could do not to scream her frustration.
There was a loud sob from Deiter then, and Kara felt panic rising through her.
"He's weakening, finally. The lords will be very pleased with this haul, one of them women said.
"Kara, Deiter moaned, his screams finished and most of his strength spent.
She could hold her tongue no more. Anger exploded from inside her.
"Deiter, NO!
Even as she screamed, she became aware of something she had never felt before, power crackling in the air around her, power that drove the movement of air, power that swirled and spun and electrified. A name from an old history she had read leaped into her mind. The Tempest.
She drew at it hungrily, pulling it to her, filling the void left by the absence of her connection to the core, but it felt very different, not entirely controllable. In fact it seemed to fizz through her veins, volatile and unpredictable as lightening. The air around her condensed and crackled with static, making every hair on her body stand on end. The women around the bed turned to look at her, their eyes wide. She grabbed a thread of it and bored it straight into the block, gritting her teeth against the dizzying pain. The block shattered, and her vision greyed out. Gasping for breath, she tried to use this alien new power to burn away at the ropes that bound her, but instead a sudden gust of wind leaped up from nowhere, spinning the sparks of static as it passed and ruffling the hair of the Soul-Stealers.
Somehow, despite feeling full to the brim of The Tempest, she managed to draw on the core and burn the ropes, but the pain of doing it was blinding. Now she struggled to her feet, thinking hard on what she might do with the power she held to her.
"Murderous whores, " she spluttered as they stared at her. On the bed she could just hear Deiter mumbling in a low constant voice. She tried to focus on it.
"The Tempest cannot be used as the power of the core, internalising it can easily be fatal ' so it should be held outside the body, this time it was her turn for her eyes to widen, and as soon as she had heard it she let go of the tempest within her, letting it pool around her. Letting go of the sensation of lightning wriggling through her veins was both relieving and oddly disappointing. She had never felt so powerful, or dangerous. Touching it again for a second, the sensation returned, but in a muted way. But now she realised also that she could once again draw from the core. As if echoing this thought, Deiter continued.
"The power of the core must be used to direct and harness The Tempest, it is impossible to control it directly,
She drew deeply, filling her veins with the warmth and strength of the core. Quickly she tested, pushing out with the core into The Tempest around her, and lightning flared along with another gust of wind.
"Take them alive! she heard Deiter whisper hoarsely, then suddenly as one, all three women attacked her.
Lines of fire came from all three, ready to converge on her. She bound The Tempest tightly to her, and it condensed into a crackling aura, running in blue-white threads across her skin and clothes.
The fire hit her and was consumed by the lightning, reflexively Kara threw lightning back along the thin lines of residue the fire had left. Arching streaks of electricity hit each woman square on the chest, obliterating their Life Wells. Each screamed in agony as it leapt from the life wells to their drawing points, deep within their brains, and they crumpled to the ground whimpering.
"Let it go now, Kara my love, she heard Deiter whisper, his voice weaker than ever.
She staggered over to the bed, and picked up her sword, which one of the women had discarded there. Then she started to cut Deiters bonds.
"I'll heal you, just let me get you off this bed first, she told him, trying to avoid looking at what had been done to him.
"Kara, his voice came as a faint whisper, but the tone she could not ignore. She looked up into his face, into his blue eyes, "I .. I have no .. more .. strength, love. They took it all,
It was like walking into a wall, the despair struck her so abruptly that she nearly toppled backwards. She gripped the side of the blood-soaked bed to steady herself. Her head felt like she was dangling precariously over a long drop into blackness. Breathing deeply to fight back the rising panic, she forced herself to really look at him, to let herself know that what he said was true.
The mattress was soaked thickly with his blood, a lot of which was congealing. Here and there an old, dried stain from some other person, it made her feel sick, but it also turned much of her shock into anger. Anger at the foul evil of the Soul-Stealers. Keeping her eyes on him, on the multitude of gaping wounds on his body, she went back to cutting him loose. Blood was no longer pouring from him, but seeping sluggishly. She thrust her sword back into the loop in her belt.
"I won't let you die in this bed, she said with a soft, determined growl. Grimacing, she slid an arm under his neck and one under his knees. He groaned as she lifted him, bringing a fresh round of sweat to his face. She quickly smothered the sharp rise in anger and pity she felt when she discovered how light and frail he felt in her arms. Cradling him close to her chest she headed for the door, which she kicked wide open. Out of the bedroom into the living room, which was small enough for her to cross in a few paces. Finally she thrust open the front door and stepped out into the soft yellow light of the Hours of Wakening.
Kneeling in the sunlight, she pulled her cloak from her shoulders and draped it over him. Then she held him close, but not tightly, brushing her fingers through his hair, staring into his eyes.
"Kara, your father¦ he said only barely moving his lips. His eyes flicked to the sword on her hip.
She knew what he meant, and for the second time in her life, tears sprang into her eyes. But her left hand went to her sword hilt, and she drew it with a shaking hand. As she touched the sword tip to his chest above his heart, she thought for a moment she might actually be sick. She looked down at his face and saw that he was smiling. She bent her head quickly and kissed him, then drew back and stared into his eyes again.
"I love you, she said hoarsely.
He laid his hand lightly on her free hand and mouthed words back at her. I love you, Kara, always. She gulped convulsively and then caught her breath, biting her lip. Then she drove the sword blade down through the cloth of her cloak and deeply into his heart. The light in his blue eyes went dull and he exhaled in a sigh. Grief threatened to consume her then and there.
It was the thought of how he had clung on to life until she had regained consciousness, the thought of how he had suffered until then, that quickened her to rage. With a sob, she drew her sword out of his body. She carefully laid him out so that the sunlight would cover his face, but then turned back towards the house, dark purpose speeding her steps. Justice could not come quickly enough for the women who had murdered her lover.
Back across the living room in a few angry strides, then she threw the door to the bedroom open again. One of the women was struggling to her feet, hauling herself up on the edge of the bed, another was on her side vomiting. The third was still lying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling with eyes that almost looked dead. For the first time Kara noticed the stench inside the room, like rotting meat, but now sharpened with the acrid stink of vomit. It almost smelled like a battle field, but in was more clinging in the confines of the small room.
"Come to finish us off, Magii bitch? the one clinging to the bed spat.
Kara eyes took in the small pile of Life Wells on the other side of the bed from the one who had spoken, and saw her eyes flick to them hopefully. Kara smiled at her, bitterly and then lunged across the room, faster than the woman had accounted for. Fear sprang into the other womans eyes, and she cowered, moaning. Catching her chin with the swords tip, Kara looked her over dispassionately.
"Beg, she said after a moment, coldly. One of the other two sobbed on the floor, but Kara did not look round. The woman wailed and tottered, falling back against the bed. Tears rolled from her eyes and she spluttered incoherently, but no words came out. Snarling, Kara spat in her face, then rammed the sword point home. Blood came fountaining out of the womans mouth, mingling with all of Deiters blood on the bed. Rage boiled higher in Kara when she saw that and without another glance at the dead woman on the bed, she turned.
The girl who was vomiting was the slender girl who had attacked the Magii in their room. She looked up at Kara in wide eyed fear and Kara curled her top lip up in a sneer.
She took a step towards her and the girl tried desperately to crawl away, but Kara caught her with the tip of her sword driven into the girls belly. The girl let out a scream, which quickly became a sickening series of shrieks as Kara began to lift her off the floor by the sword through her gut. Impaled, she slid down the blade of the sword in twisting jerks, blood running along the length of Kara's blade and then down along her arm, drenching the Mage. Then Kara grabbed the girls shoulder and wrenched her sword free, then sent the girl flying across the room. She hit a wall with a crunch and slid down it leaving a trail of blood behind her. Her head rolled forward when she came to rest, dead.
Kara turned again, but Milly, the last of the sisters, was no longer lying staring at the ceiling. She was on her feet on the far side of the bed, clutching a handful of Life Wells. One of the wells was glowing, and Kara began to move toward Milly quickly. She reached out to gather up power from the core, but stopped as the pain that came with overuse stabbed at her, and then a breath of a moment later staggered as Milly lashed out with her own power and blocked her from the core. Recovering in a heartbeat, Kara leaped up onto the bed, towering like a giant over the small woman on the other side. Milly was drawing again, but she was unsteady on her feet and having difficulty drawing quickly. With a flashing backhand movement of her blade, she knocked the wells out of Milly's hand. The other woman shrieked and dived after them, and Kara landed lightly on the other side of the bed right behind her. She slashed at Milly's back, tearing open the cotton of her blouse and opening a long gash along it. Milly threw herself prone over the Wells and began desperately trying to draw again. With a swift kick Kara made the woman double up and roll, her head between her arms. Another kick to the wound on her back made the woman open up again, screaming. Her back was arched above the floorboards, her arms at her sides rigid. Kara kicked the wells away again, and stood over the woman with her sword raised.
Milly looked up at her, and instead of cowering or shying as her sisters had done, she spat. Kara looked down at her with a grim smile on her lips and then drove the sword down into the womans exposed chest. Instead of screaming this time, Milly looked back up at her and grinned, then she spoke.
"We return, and He shall lead us to victory over all Magii. You will be our slaves,
In fury, Kara twisted her blade and gutted her.

It was a stain on her memory, that day, the greatest horror among many horrors she had lived through. Two men she had loved in her life, and both had died by her hand, but to end their suffering. The evil that had swallowed Deiter's life and the blood and rage that had taken her afterward, those were the greatest horrors.
The years in between then and now were pale years, every day spent tracking down Soul-Stealers, who were becoming more common. But until today, they were always alone. The knowledge that a war was coming came over her with the sureness of foresight.
Over the crest of the hill now came a handful of men, clutching swords in a frightened manner. Villagers sent to investigate the noise at the Quarantine Hut.
"Your brothers here are Soul-Stealers, she told them, pulling her sword from the ground and wiping the blade on the dead monk's body. That shock filled their faces gave her some relief from the bitterness boiling inside her. Already the life-force was flowing normally through the village.
"The living ones are blocked, you need not fear them. You must help me carry them back to the village, the array of emotions that crossed their faces ranged from relief to horror, but finally the foremost of the men nodded assent and set the others to collecting up the unconscious monks.
Kara slid her sword back through the loop on her belt and slowly walked back up the hill. Answers would come to her, she knew. Answers that she would ring from the Soul-Stealers she had captured, and answers that lay in wait in the future. For now she would have to be sated with that, but the burning of her long held anger would be quelled by nothing. War was coming, and she was a soldier, but this was not a war that would hurt soldiers alone, and that kept her anger alive, fed it. It would not be quelled until the Soul-Stealers were broken or she was dead.

~The End~