Kora: Safe

CRACK!
With a sharp, sizzling report, a bolt of amber aether crashed into Naline's shield, its force making the transparent green membrane shiver and ripple.  The lean, silvery-haired warrior-mage braced herself against the impact, grunting as the shock wave shot up her outstretched arm.

As the spell's residual sparks showered the stone floor, Naline was already sweeping her free arm around, sending a whirling disk of emerald-colored energy scything at her opponent.  Letting out a shout, stocky Zyell flung himself forwards and down, rolling over the dark stones as the magical assault passed overhead.  Coming up to a kneeling position, the muscular Etvor man brought his arm up, casting his own shield just in time to deflect a second blast.  Keeping up the swift pace, Zyell countered with a chaos strike, which Naline could only avoid with a rather undignified half-leap, half-twirl to the side.

As the cone of rippling air shot harmlessly past her, the panting shadow mage dropped into a crouch, drawing her elegant, single-edged sword from its sheath on her back, and gave her opponent a wild little grin.  Zyell, his flowing scalp-lock dark against his clean-shaven pate, returned the smile as he unsheathed his own, larger, blade.  They charged.

An instant before the weapons met, Zyell dematerialized, vanishing with weapon and all into a swirl of black mist.  Naline, who had expected the maneuver, whirled round to face the reappearing mage, just in time to block the swishing down-stroke.  She ducked to the side and twirled her sword, aiming a counterstrike at the Etvor's leather-vested torso, only to have it glance off his glowing shield.  In a lightning reaction, Naline thrust her left hand forward, green aether flaring on her palm, only to realize that Zyell had had the same idea.  

With a bright flash and chest-rattling thud, the two magical blasts collided, their collective energy flinging the unfortunate mages in opposite directions.  Within instants of regaining their footing, however, the two were already continuing their duel.  The sharp, high-pitched clangs of steel on steel mingled with the crackle and hum of magic and the sharp exclamations of the combatants as the two whirled, sliced and blasted their way up and down the orb-lit hall.  The air had a sharp tang to it, like copper and lightning, and it shivered under the magic's influence.

As she fought, Naline could not keep the wild grin off of her face.  This speed, this rhythm, this... harmony – this was the very core of the Thunderfight.  Feeling the raw, tingling power of your aether coursing through your veins, moving in tune with it, and with your foe...  It was glorious.

And suddenly, it was over.  Between two sword-strokes, Naline flung a pebble-sized clay ball to the ground, shouting the activation word.  A cloud of impenetrable blackness blossomed forth like some bizarre flower, engulfing the two of them and rendering their sight useless.  The warrior-mage, using her magical awareness to guide her, ducked forwards and whipped up her blade.  

After but a few moments, the spell ended, dispelling the blackness.  When the last bit of ebon mist had cleared, Naline saw the tip of her sword tickling Zyell's throat.

After another moment, she also noticed Zyell's own blade, pressing ever-so-lightly into her abdomen.  Clearly, they were getting far too good at this.

After an instant of silence, the two mages burst into laughter, lowering their weapons.  Naline re-sheathed her sword, using her other hand to wipe her brow, pushing back the short, pale locks that had stuck to her forehead.  Zyell replaced his blade as well, stretching the muscles of his arms and torso.

"Is draw," he remarked, rather unnecessarily.  The Etvor's peculiar, rolling-tongued accent was distinct as ever.  "We going to need last Fight."  He and Naline had already fought out three duels in this morning practice session.  Naline had won the first, Zyell the second.  This one, obviously, had had no victor.

Naline chuckled as she rested her hands on her knees, shaking her head a bit to bring air to her sweaty face.  She was beginning to feel the chill of magical exertion, her short, protective tunic and breeches were getting clammy, and she was hungry to boot.  There was, however, no way she would leave the session at this.

"Last one," she agreed, straightening.  "And prepare to lose this one, Zyell," she added, sending the man a mock glare.

"Hah!  I think not!"  The two of them made for the center of the vaulting training chamber, where two crossing lines of inlaid metal within a circle marked the starting point for the Thunderfight.  With the automatism of long practice, the two mages positioned themselves, back to back, inside the circle.

"Ready?"

"Ati."

The two of them began walking in opposite directions with slow, measured paces.  "One.  Two.  Three."  As she counted in chorus with Zyell, Naline set her mind racing, trying to calculate how to outwit the wily, powerful mage.  She had no intention of losing this round.  "Five."

On "Six.", however, something ahead of her, up on the viewing balcony, caught her gaze.  Not something...  Someone.

Unfortunately for her, however, Zyell was still counting.  "Seven!" he shouted: the final step.  Too late, Naline realized that she should have been paying attention.

THOOM!

The magical assault caught her squarely in the back, hurling her into the air.  She hit the floor in an ungainly nosedive, the air rushing from her lungs as her chest met the less-than-soft stones.  Three counts after skidding to a jumbled stop, the pain followed.

"Zyell!" she half-shouted, half groaned, clenching her teeth and squeezing her eyes shut.

"Naline!"  Behind her, she could hear Zyell's hurried footsteps coming her way.  "What you cloud-staring for?" he asked, coming up beside her.  Annoyingly enough, there was more than a little laughter beside the concern in his voice.

Taking a breath and managing to look back over her shoulder, Naline fixed the culprit with a foul look.  "I wasn't ready, you over-eager aether-slinger!" she growled, attempting to pick herself up off the floor, but not quite managing.  "I was distracted."  Thankfully, she accepted Zyell's offered hand.

"Distracted?"  With a grunt, the powerful mage hoisted her back onto her feet.  "Distracted?" he repeated, sounding equal parts incredulous and amused.  "With what"?"

Naline glared at him again, giving him a half-hearted shove.  "This isn't funny, Zyell," she muttered, rubbing her sore ribs.  Zyell's only response was a hearty chortle.  Ye gods, she'd never hear the end of this.

She shook her head, remembering what had caught her attention.  "I saw somebody."  Turning round, she pointed at the viewing balcony.  "Her."

There, looking at the two of them in silent, wide-eyed fascination, stood a dark-haired little girl.

"Miro," Zyell murmured.  "Who that be?"

Mesmerized, Kora stared down at the man and woman below her.  She had seen magic when Eon had saved her, but that had been over in moments, barely enough to see.  This, on the other hand...  She had never seen anything like it.

It was as if the two mages had brought lightning itself to do their bidding.  Streams of liquid light, deep green and orange-yellow, burst from their palms and flowed from their fingers, twisting themselves into glassy walls, crackling discs and thunderbolts.  She could feel the power as it rippled over the edges of  her mind, she could almost taste it.

And the swords...  They added a whole new thrill to the spectacle, watching those shining blades whirl and clash, deflecting bursts of energy and whipping in to strike, only to be stopped at the very last moment by one of those walls or the other blade.

But despite all that, despite the obvious destructive power that magic and those weapons held, there was no real danger to it.  It wasn't truly a fight.  Dancing, that was what they were doing, the slender, silver-haired woman and the powerful, leather-clad man.  Dancing wildly, to the music of steel and magic.

Kora felt her heart race, not in fear, but in terrible, wondrous excitement, her breath catching in her throat.  Gone were thoughts of the mirrors and what she had seen in them, gone was the sickening worry.  She had been absorbed into this fantastic battle.

Even as the bubble of darkness dissipated, even as the two warriors lowered their weapons and ended their dance, she looked on, hypnotized.  It was only when the woman turned and pointed, when the two of them looked straight her way, that she was shaken out of her reverie.

"Hello?"  The woman approached the floor below the balcony, smiling kindly, her hands open at her sides in a gesture of good will.  "It's all right.  Are you..."  She frowned lightly and pursed her lips, as if trying to remember something.  "Oh, yes."  Her expression cleared.  "Kora?"

Kora gave the barest nod, still mute.  How did she know that?

"I heard about you this morning.  Ah..."  The woman trailed off again, thoughtfully biting her lip and looking back at her companion.  "Would you like to come down to us?" she asked after a moment, looking earnestly up at the girl.  "There's a ramp over there."  She pointed.

Kora hesitated, uncertain.

"Come on!"  This time it was the bald-headed man who spoke, loudly, an enthusiastic smile on his face.  "There's food!"  There was something odd about the way he pronounced his words.  It was almost funny, really.

"Zyell!" Silver Woman reproachfully hissed, lightly smacking the man's arm with the back of her hand.

"What?" he asked, an innocent expression on his face.  

Kora, however, had been convinced, if only just.  After another moment's pause, she backed away from the balcony, heading in the direction the woman had pointed.  There was indeed a smooth ramp leading down to the hall's floor, opposite the door she had entered by.  She hadn't noticed it before – she had been rather distracted.

An uneasy swirl entered the pit of her stomach as she thought about her flight from the looking-glass rooms.  Seeing herself like that...  It had rattled her in ways she couldn't possibly describe.  She had run, then walked, restless, anxious, through the twisting halls of the castle, not knowing or caring where she was.  That is, until she had entered this hall.

"There now."  As the girl reached the bottom of the ramp, Sandy Woman leaned over, offering her a hand.  "We should take you to the kitchens.  Lanai will be wanting to see you."

"Good!" Bald Man exclaimed, rubbing his hands.  "Now we can eat!  Get back some energy."  Silver Woman didn't even bother to scold this time, pointedly ignoring him.

As Kora shyly accepted Silver Woman's warm, slightly rough hand, the mage frowned, rubbing the girl's fingers.  "Great blazes, your hands are cold," she remarked, looking down.  "We do need to get you warmed up."  She set off for a tall doorway, set below the balcony.

"Is what I said!" Bald Man replied from behind them.  Silver Woman only chuckled, rolling her eyes.

"Oh, of course!" the mage murmured, realizing something.  "My name is Naline, Kora."  She lightly touched her free hand to her shoulder in some sort of gesture, then jerked back a thumb, indicating Bald Man.  "And that great hungry fellow behind us is Zyell."

In truth, though, Kora was barely paying attention, her mind having made a connection, one that sent a shock through her body.  She was a mage!  She could do what these two had done, glowing power and all … could she?

Suddenly distracted, she examined her free hand, opening and closing her fist.  The possibility was, well, amazing.  But where could she possibly begin?  She remembered Eon revealing the power inside her, a ball of heat and energy floating in her heart.  Should she simply, what, pull it out?

Apparently, no.  No matter how hard she concentrated, she couldn't cause anything like the tingling flood of magic that Eon had set off.  Her heart, her arm, everything remained perfectly ordinary.  She bit her lip in frustration, barely stopping herself from muttering "sarrek".  That particular word would earn any of Vikene's children a sound hiding.

They reached an opening in the wall, with another spiral staircase behind it.  Naline started walking down, with Kora a step behind her and Zyell bringing up the rear.  From below came a current of warm air, laden with the scent of food and wood smoke.  The smell seemed to awaken Kora's stomach, which wasted no time in reminding her how empty it was.

They emerged into a large, low, vaulting chamber, lit with a warm, orange glow.  The soft roar of the fires mingled with the clattering of metal and animated voices, filling the heated room with an almost pleasant sort of racket.

"...no, Catre and Reyn won't be needing anything, they headed out last night," came a familiar female voice somewhere in front of them.  "But have something large and hearty sent up to Lord Eon.  He needs the energy."

There, beside a table laden with pots and vegetables, speaking to a freckled, carrot-headed older girl, was the short, brown-haired woman from last night.  Turning away, the lady was just about to call out to somebody else when she caught sight of Kora.

Instantly, the look on her face transformed from firm authority to concern and relief.

"Great Gods above, there you are!"  She walked over, kneeling and gently taking the girl in her arms.  Even though, for some reason, it felt somewhat odd and uncomfortable this time, Kora let her.  The woman's worry about her was clear.

"Wherever did you find her?" the lady, apparently named Lanai, asked, looking up at Naline.  

The mage grinned, one hand resting on her hip.  "Found her staring at our Thunderfight like we'd enspelled her," she said, cheerfully patting Kora on the shoulder.  "I think she likes it."

Lanai puffed out her cheeks in a sigh, shaking her head.  "Well, it's not the worst place she could have gone.  Dear Gods, I was worried she'd found her way into the armory or the dungeons, or fallen down a staircase..."  She returned her gaze to Kora again, holding her by her shoulders.  "Please don't go running off like that again, dear.  Not every place in this castle is safe for children."  Despite herself, Kora felt a twinge of annoyance.  This woman was acting more and more like old Olika.

"In all fairness, Lanai, you were the one who went 'running off' in the first place," came a man's voice from across the table.  Sitting there, with a gently steaming cup in his hand, was a familiar, dark-bearded man: Tal.  He was leaning back, observing the gathering with a lazy sort of grin.

"I was only gone for a rin or two," Lanai protested, scowling at Tal, "and the door was closed besides!  How she got out, I don't know..."  She huffed again.

"Perhaps she asked," said Naline.  For some reason, the remark made Zyell and Tal chuckle.  Kora couldn't imagine why – she had, after all, asked.

"Hoi, Tirrin!"  Zyell had turned his attention to the smocked, redheaded girl, who was now bent over another table.  "You have breakfast for us?"  He gestured at himself, Naline and Kora.  "Two hungry mages, one hungry girl!"

"Just a mo', mister Zyell."  Barely looking up, the girl moved back and forth with the automatism of long practice, gathering up items from the table, a potbellied stove and a shelf that was set into the wall.

"Hallo!"  An enthusiastic child's voice made Kora look up.  Across from her, a boy in a simple yellow tunic and dark trousers had raised his hand in a wave, giving her a gap-toothed grin.  About her age, he had a mussed shock of brown hair and hazel eyes, which were fixing her with a curious, friendly look.

"Hallo!" the boy repeated.  "Me name's Darron.  Who're you?"

Shyly, she gave a quiet answer.  "Kora."

Darron tilted his head, looking inquisitive.  "You're new here, aren't ya?  Are you from the valley?  One of us?"  Kora, who had no idea of what he was talking about, gave him a blank look.

"Darron!" Lanai admonished, wrapping a protective arm around Kora.  "Leave her alone.  She's in a bad enough state already without your pestering questions."

Darron bowed his head, murmuring an apology and shuffling his feet.  "Yes, mistress Lanai."

Just then, Tirrin the serving girl swept over, placing three thick, steaming slices of pale bread on the table.  Each piece was topped with several crisp, juicy strips of fried meat.  The smell wafting up was truly mouth-watering, and Kora, now seated on one of the tall wooden stools surrounding the table, almost immediately snatched up the closest slice.  Behind her, Zyell gave an "aah" of approval, rubbing his hands.

Darron's eyes lit up, and he reached out as well, only to get his hand swatted away by Tirrin.  "Not you, rascal, you've already had yours."  Turning to Kora, she lifted a finger.  "Careful, miss, that's hot.  There's some fruit in the basket over there, if you'll be wanting any," she continued, gesturing, before dipping into a short bow and heading back to her work.  Kora barely paid attention, savoring her mouthful delicious, warm meat and aromatic bread.  Perhaps...  Perhaps this would not be so bad.


~ ~ ~


"Drained him," Tal murmured, shaking his head in disbelief.   "Drained a full-grown man.  I can hardly believe it."

"So you have said, Tal," Lord Eon replied levelly.  The shadow mage did not look back as he spoke, his gaze resting on the basin carved into the chamber's center.  The water-filled pool, perfectly round and surrounded by bands of silver and gold, shimmered slightly in the amber light of the orbs.

The Shadowmaster had changed out of the last days' traveling garb, and was now wearing a long, flowing, open-fronted coat of deepest indigo, belted at the middle and with broad, scarlet-patterned cuffs.  Beneath that, he wore his usual, long-sleeved black tunic, trousers and tall, soft boots.  On his left shoulder, the intricate, angular glyph for shadow magic, accompanied by the star-like symbol for mastery, seemed to shift in the low light.  Tal's own garb was similar, though his coat was the color of glowing embers, and lacked the master's seal.

The Shadowmaster's right hand grimaced, nodding.  "Aye."  Indeed, this must have been the third time in the past day that he'd expressed his disbelief.  It was, however, with good reason.  "But still, sir.  She's seen six summers, seven at most."  He raised his hands in a gesture of bewilderment.  "And here she is, displaying full shadow powers."

With the smallest of motions, Eon shook his head.  "Her powers are hardly 'full'," the Shadowmaster quietly stated, finally turning to face his subordinate.  "As of yet, she has no control, no voluntary access.  Draining that guardsman was unconscious, an outburst, fuelled by her emotions."  He paused.  "But yes.  It is indeed unusual that that outburst would come in the form of true shadow magic."  He returned his gaze to the scrying pool.

"Mm."  Tal frowned thoughtfully, wetting his lips.    "How old were you, My Lord?" he asked suddenly, cocking his head.

"When my abilities first manifested, you mean?  Eight."   The Shadowmaster did not seem surprised by the question.  "It took several more years for my true nature to express itself."

Tal nodded again.  "Of course, your development wasn't left completely to its own devices, was it?"  After a moment's pause, the mage winced, realizing what he had just said.  He bowed his head, humbly murmuring: "Forgive me, sir, that was none of my affair."  That had been rather imprudent.

Lord Eon did not appear to be affected.  But then, it was always hard to tell a thing about what the reserved, silent mage was thinking or feeling.  "Forgiven," he replied, waving the matter away with a flick of his hand.  "It was relevant to the matter at hand.  Yes, my developing powers were... affected.  However, the general order of events was the same, as it was with you, and most of those within this citadel.  First basic magic, then the more specialised abilities."  Yes, this was more or less common knowledge, at least to the more educated mages.  "Kora forms one of the exceptions to the rule.  Unusual, but not completely unheard of."

"Makes me wonder what she'll be capable of."  With her usual, silent grace, Naline had entered the Scrying Chamber, coming up beside Tal.  Now she had finished her sparring session, her short, practical tunic had been replaced by a loose, light green robe, and a small golden loop was hanging from her left ear.  "In any case, she's with Lanai and Mauri.  Getting her fed, a bath, all of that.  Barely said a word since we found her."  She sighed, then raised her hand again.

"Speaking of power, sir, will you be training her?"

Eon turned, one eyebrow delicately raised.  "That seems rather premature to determine, Naline.  Our first concern is helping her recover."

"Aye, but that'll be rather difficult with rogue magic flying off of her, won't it?  Besides, you'll need to find yourself a pupil sooner or later, won't you?"  Naline was acting a mite too amused about the matter.

"Need to?" Eon asked mildly, eyebrow climbing another notch.  "That matter will be handled in due time.  Now, however, there are other affairs at hand."

The Shadowmaster removed a small glass bottle from the pocket of his coat, its contents a deep crimson.  Unstopping it, he held it out over the scrying pool, indigo aether flaring up around his hand as he murmured the resonating words of the spell.  With a delicate motion, he tipped a single drop of scarlet blood into the precise center of the pool.

"Airena."

Like a ring of smoke, the crimson circle spread through the water, hissing in eerie harmony with the crystalline, ringing sound of the spell.  Suddenly, the water turned the deepest black, an inky, circular void.  Then, with a strange, soft thud, a rose of scarlet stars filled that emptiness.

"Greetings, Master Eon."  A woman's voice sounded out, softly reverberating through the chamber.

Hundreds of leagues away, in the broad stone halls of Castle Wesoren, the beautiful Airena Taundu raised her head, smiling.

News from Kelva'tem itself, My Lord, she thought-spoke, the mental words effortlessly travelling the enormous distance to the Wildlands.  The Inquisition's being called back to Darisia Aethren.  Apparently, we've got a budding conflict round the Temple of the Two Seas, and the great Lord Lightmaster wants every mage he can spare out there.  With greatest secrecy, of course.

Indeed?  And how did you find out, Airena?  Eon's mental words carried his trademark, bland tone of amusement.

Airena's smile broadened.  Oh, the messenger was most helpful to me.  She lowered her head, her full lips gently grazing the man's cheek.  A few sparks of aether jumped over the gap, drawn in by the shadow mage's hunger.  Most helpful indeed.


~ ~ ~


Nighttime's ebon cloak spread itself over the rugged landscape of the Wildlands, bringing with it the heart of the storm.  Sheets of rain now poured from the dark heavens, blown this way and that by the howling winds as they lashed great Siloru's flanks.  Brilliant bolts of violet lightning flashed and arced overhead, the sodden earth trembling under the roar of their thunderclaps.

In the midst of this chaotic whirl of darkness, wind and water, Sen Mysrana stood tall, the light of the thunderbolts flickering off her rain-soaked ramparts.  Inside the Citadel, the booming reports of the storm were reduced to low, muted rumbles, the shriek of the gale no more than a murmur.  The pouring rain could find no way through the sloping roofs, and its chill could not penetrate the great, enspelled walls of stone.

There are some things, however, that no walls can protect against.

With a gasp, Kora shot upright in her bed, clammy and shivering.  Her breath coming in dry, heaving half-sobs, the little girl hunched over atop the mattress, clutching the silky blanket to her chest.  A disjointed flurry of images raced through her head as she knelt there, lightning casting its pale, erratic flicker on her and the surrounding room.  Slowly, very, very slowly, she remembered where she was, realized that she had been dreaming.

It was the same thing happening all over again.  The door of their house crashing down, the soldiers in red charging in, the cold, contemptuous look the priest on horseback gave them, the black-bearded soldier reading out the sentence, horror, fear, her mother's final loving smile, flashing swords, bloody swords, dead, dead, dead.

For the longest time, she knelt there, shaking, unable to do a thing.  Then, slowly, weakly, she slid off the bed and made for the door.  She needed a place, a person...

Seated on one of the luxurious Qivan couches that ringed the fireplace in the center of the Evening Room, Eon silently read through an early volume of the Pako Aui from the library.  The old chronicle-scroll's yellowed reed-paper was slightly translucent in the warm light of the fire, the lines of intricate Draconic glyphs inky black against it.  Draconic was a ceremonial script, not easy to write or read, but the wealth of information the ancient characters bore with them made it well worth the effort.

A timid, wavering sort of presence distracted him from an account from the Selenic Third Dynasty, causing him to look up.  There, rubbing her eyes with one hand as she mutely walked in, was Kora, hair disheveled and mind upset.

"Kora."  Gently, Eon set the aged scroll down on the low table in front of him.  He frowned.  "Is there something wrong?"  The girl didn't reply, simply walking over to the Shadowmaster's couch.

"Kora," he said again, softly.  "What happened?  A nightmare?"  That was almost certainly so: the telltale wisps of fear, confusion and sleeplessness were still blowing around the child's head and heart.  "Where's Lanai?"  Still, there was no answer.  Concerned, he made to rise.

Then, to the Shadowmaster's complete and total surprise, the little girl clambered up the couch and onto his lap.  Before he could react, she had curled up, her head resting against his chest, one hand gripping the fabric of his tunic.  Shivering slightly, she snuggled closer to him, then sighed, relaxing.

Utterly stunned, Eon looked on, arms hovering over the girl's delicate, curled-up form, eyes flitting back and forth, mouth half-open.  There was nothing else he could do.  For the first time in a long while, Lord Eon Ortea, the mighty shadow mage, had been left completely at a loss.

Like a star turned teardrop, a single spark of shimmering, deep purple aether flared to life on Kora's face, tracing a line down her cheek before gently winking out.  As the girl sank into a deep, warm sleep, a single, murmured word escaped her lips.

"Safe."