[Scalvoris Mountains] Nothing lasts forever

[Ent]

Faith had been walking for hours, through the night and now into day. The clouds had lifted so it was easier to see and walk but the wind was still quite strong and the sky cloudy and grey. The whole atmosphere was moody and uncomfortable, even though she had escaped she was not yet out of the woods. Still she would be able to feel it, feel him. Her approaching lover was not far off, in fact, she would soon see him and his two companions along with the enormowl come up over a ridge line just down from her.

The truth was the whole situation might feel too easy, it might appear too easy and for the most part it was too easy. Whether Faith would make note of this or not was yet to be seen, the fact Padraig was now only a few hundred meters away might be too much of a distraction. As for Padraig well his journey had not been easy until now, first the useless people of Scalvoris, then the enormowl flight and the dangerous Mountain climbing. For him and his companions it had been a very eventful and risky trip it is unlikely they would think it at all.

So as the two neared it might come as a surprise when an enormowls cry could be heard as it plummeted down from the clouds and landed between them. Atop the white feathers bird a man in black, a man Faith would recognise as Alexander. Now, however, he was in black leather armour and a blood red sword hung in his hand as he dismounted the creature.

"I wish I could say this was a surprise." His enormowl launched itself up into the air as he walked briskly towards the escaped woman. "You have made this a lot harder than it had to be." He spoke lower so the other approaching group would be unable to talk. As he spoke he was comfortably out of her reach but he still looked down on her bruised face, somewhat impressed by how impressionable her skin was.

He then walked over and grabbed her, his strength again too much for her to overcome as he took her by surprise and hurled her to the ground in front of him. "Welcome my new friends, unfortunately we are not in a place that I can offer you any hospitality this slave of Famula made sure of that!" His voice carried over the snow flattened landscape well, loud enough for them all to catch his words. "Still perhaps no one needs to die here today." Faith was in the snow before him, more than capable to run to Padraig if she wished. "All Faith here has to do is tell me what I want to know." His voice dipped slightly as his old frustrations bubbled up inside.

[Faith Augustin]

It didn't seem too easy to her, because it hadn't been easy at all. She was terrified, exhausted and lost in the mountains. The man who had held her captive had lifted her from the streets where she was walking and safe, or should be safe. Everything which she had tried, every touch of him or attempt to struggle had been met with greater force. That terror had not abated and, as she felt Padraig growing closer, Faith tried her best to hold on to her emotions because she knew that he could feel what she was feeling, but equally she knew that she could not help it. He was stronger than her, older than her, faster than her and he would use Padraig in an instant if that was what it took.

So, she ran.

And as she saw Padraig, hope and terror filled her in equal measures and she didn't even realise that she started to cry again. "Padraig! He's... " was all she got out. Did he even hear that? She didn't know. Could he see the bruises on her face where the undead creature had struck her, or her shoulders and neck where he had held her? That would worry him and she didn't want to do that. Yet, she saw Padraig and she was afraid; not for herself, now, but for him. There were others with him, she recognised that, saw that it was Kali'rial and Pash, A small part of her wanted to try and explain, to talk and to give details, but the fear and panic she felt gave her no more room in her head to consider anything other than to warn them. "Necromancer! Strong, too strong!"

As the Enormowl landed, Faith back-pedalled fear gripping her. Alexander moved like lightning and he grabbed her and flung her to the ground. As soon as she felt Alexander's hands on her, Faith started to fight him. She kicked and punched at him, but there was no avail to it and Faith fell to the ground, landing heavily after the throw. She looked up at Padraig and cursed the tears which ran down her face. Kneeling there in the snow, she lowered her head.

She could run to him. She could and she wanted to more than she had words for.

Faith spoke, looking at Padraig and cursing the tears which poured down her face. She couldn't hide the fear from him, there was no point to try. "He is undead. Fire harms him" Her silver eyes did not betray what she was going to do, yet she was sure that he would know. He could feel what she felt, knew what she was thinking. The glowing band around his arm shone the same as the one around hers and Faith was, for a moment, entirely conflicted. Her way of dealing with the terror she felt was, and always had been, to attack. To fight and fight and not give in and so she wanted to run to the man and claw out his eyes.

Then, of course, there was the simple fact that she was afraid for Padraig. If she did what she so desperately wanted to do. If she ran to him, then she brought Alexander with her. Yet that was foolish, because he was here and there was nothing now that she was going to be able to do about it. Finally, of course, was the overwhelming need to run to Padraig, to know that she was there and that they were together. Because together they were more than the sum of two individuals, she knew that. Together,they could do this.

In that split trill, there was no question what she would do; she could try and hurt Alexander, maybe using once again the Famula-granted ability which had made him dizzy, but then she would be in the way for ranged combat and both Padraig and Kali had, and were good with bows. She was injured, terrified and weaponless and so Faith moved. To Padraig, where she would grab the sword at his belt to arm herself. After all, he had another and she knew that. As much as she wanted to just run and crumple into a sobbing heap in his arms, now was not the time for that and Faith's bruised and tear stained face showed the other two what, thanks to their Immortals granted abilities, she and Padraig already knew. She moved, with every intention of fighting with them. Crumpled and sobbing she'd do later, she determined, once they'd wiped this muck off the face of Idalos.

[Padraig]

[img]/gallery/image ... ge_id=5045[/img]

Never once growing up had Padraig dreamed of being a mountaineer, an explorer of the mountains and valleys, deserts and oceans that made Idalos. Or if he had, he'd quickly discarded those fancies in exchange for more scholarly pursuits. As fate had it however, more than once he'd found himself engaging in activities he'd never have anticipated, and ultimately had done more than just survive.

Still, he was better suited intellectually to the lab than the great outdoors. It wasn't easy going, not even after recovering from what might have been a very big fall for all three of them. He hardly felt the strain however. The closer the hummingbird led them to Faith, the stronger his sense of what she was feeling and thinking. "She's gotten loose from whoever's had her," he told Pash and Kali'rial. Though judging by the sensations pricking his mind and his skin, he wasn't sure how long her newfound freedom might last.

And then he saw her and at once he was filled with relief and worry. The screech of the enormowl cut through the air and at first he assumed it was the one he'd brought over from the mainland. Unfortunately it wasn't the case, and without a thought, he cut the tether between himself and the others, and reached for the bow strapped across his back. "Faith!" he called out, as if she hadn't noticed already. Or as if shouting the warning might somehow unravel the danger. It didn't, of course.

Padraig wanted nothing more than to run to her and place himself between her and the dark clad figure. The mere sight of the man filled him with anger and a sense of rage, a urge to strike out impulsively. But he knew that doing it would put her in all the more danger. The gold halo of light around his forearm glowed brighter for all to see, just as the matching one round Faith's arm did.

Holding his impulses in check, he dropped the domain bag from his shoulder, using what little forewarning he had to grab a small torch, light it, and ignite an arrow once he'd loaded and primed the bow. The torch was there for Kali'rial and Pash, should they choose to use it but he dropped it on the ground by his feet. Fire harms him, Faith had said, and Padraig could only hope she managed to distance herself from her attacker enough to enable him to get a clear shot. Would she reach him and succeed in getting his sword? He could only hope so, but either way he intended to fire on her attacker just as soon as he had a clear shot.

[Pash Raj'oriq]

If Pash had ever in all the arcs of his traveling life considered himself to be adventurous, the various misadventures of Ymiden had never been what he’d imagined as a definition of the word. He was a musician with somewhat hedonistic tendencies, a self-described lover, not a fighter, so to speak, and yet—and yet—here he was, far above sea level on some ice-crusted, wind-blasted mountain nestled amongst the peaks of Ishallr on an island that truly must have been at the edge of the world given just how truly out of his expectations every bit of trouble he’d willingly walked into had been.

To-trial was different, of course. But it wasn’t.

The cold had crept through his wet winter gear like teeth through tanned, sea-weathered skin and had he been given a moment to think of himself, he would have admitted he was tired and sore. Instead, the small, familiar form of his dark-haired employer, of Padraig’s fiancé and of his friend, Faith, broke the monotony of the snowy, rocky landscape. She’d escaped, but not unharmed. She was fleeing, both relieved to see them and instantly filled with regret at the sight of their faces. This was not the end of their rescue—no, it was the beginning. One song had faded and the next one that began was not at all set to the same tempo as before. This tune was clearly set to the racing of a pulse.

Instead of a greeting of relief, however, her warning confirmed their fears and further chilled him: Necromancy. Undeath.

As if on queue in some well-told tale were the four of them were instead tucked comfortably by some campfire, the man-shaped creature arrived, armored and armed, clearly confused. Faith was no longer a slave. She was free, and she clearly wasn’t going to share what she knew with him. Ever. Not if the three of them had anything to do with it, either.

The man sure did have a lot of feelings for someone so beyond death, the Empath could hear them on his voice above the wind without needing a trill of magic, his sensitive nature always far more tuned to who people were and how they acted as an observant performer. Whatever he wanted from Faith was rooted in those feelings—anger, vengeance, and something Pash couldn’t put his mental fingers on. Not yet.

Did the undead have a tangle?

Immortals, was it even navigable?

He was willing to find out should the opportunity present itself, aware of the risks but welcoming the chance to wade into the mess for more than just Faith’s sake.

The tall Biqaj watched as Padraig sparked a torch to life, aware that the undead were sensitive to flames. He shifted his stance and took up the brand when the other man dropped it: having no distance weapon of his own, he’d gladly hold it for Kali’s use and then simply use it as it was, a fiery stick. His uncle had taught him arcs ago that if he could use a stick, he could use any weapon, and Pash did hope this was the case to-trial. For a breath or two, he stood and waited, ready but preparing himself—weaving the threads of his own tangle like a thick blanket, a Quilt, of fortified familiarity with his own feelings lest this creature have similar abilities to his own.

“No’ too strong for all o’ us, I’d wager.” This was a bet without coins, however: the lives of those he cared about a far weightier price than gold to pay.

Another inhale of frigid air and the seafaring minstrel felt about as ready as he would ever be, aware that without the same reach as Padraig or Kali, he was left to rely on his voice and his hand-to-hand when it came to it. The warmth of the torch in his hand wasn’t as comforting as it could have been on any other trial. For now, he prepared himself to be support, taking a moment to let his now-stony gaze drift away from the dark-armored undead to chance a glance around them, to look for more danger than the obvious beacon Faith’s captor presented himself as. He was, perhaps, a distraction for something more …

Surely, this thing that was once a man with a pulse wasn’t alone.

Necromancers always had their creations somewhere within reach … so where were those abominations?

In the hull of his chest, a tune began to form, quiet and wordless, just barely a hum. It was, for the moment, to himself, just a calming measure: the melody of a familiar tune comforting but not yet loud enough to distract anyone—it was better to hum quietly than to admit out loud that he was afraid.

[Kali'rial]

When she had come up over the ledge, Kali had clung to Pash tightly, ignoring the wound on her head and squeezing her eyes shut with relief. It had been a shortlived reunion however, as the now reunited trio had to rejig and continue on to find Faith, a sense of relief at the fact they had the humming bird to guide them now. Downing the Morning Saviours as they walked, the Sev'ryn looked at Padraig with a frown.

"If she's escaped, then-" Her words were cut short by the sight of the familiar raven haired girl, dark against a white background. The professor cut the life line and began to move towards his love, when the screech of an enormowl pierced the air. Kali'rial watched in shock even as she untied her waist rope, as the massive bird landed between them and Faith, carrying a man on its back. Across the snow, her small voice carried.

He is undead. Fear ran up her spine at the words. She'd seen the undead, on Immortal's Tongue. An experience that she couldn't afford to think about now.

Fire harms him.

That was all she needed to know.

As Padraig lit the torch, Kali pulled her bow from her body and shrugged off her cloak and rucksack in one go. Drawing her pack beside her, she used the butt of her bow to smash through the top of the glass of her lantern tied there and reach the thick pitchy oil within. As Pash held up the brand, the Sev'ryn grabbed a handful of arrows and dipped them head down into the oil, pulling them free and sticking them into the snowy ground before her. Lighting one with his brand, she turned it on the oil, and the little broken lantern burst into boiling flame. All of this took mere moments, yet every trill mattered. Nocking the lit arrow, she took a deep breath as she drew the bow.

Right. Now she was ready.

Focusing on the undead man who stood over the silver eyed woman, Kali'rial aimed for his thigh. If she could land the shot, even to catch his leathery armour with a distracting flame, it might be enough to give Padraig the shot he needed. It might be enough to let Pash run in with his flaming weapon, even if the thought made her heart race with fear. It might let Faith make her move with the sword in her petite hand.

It just might.

Exhaling steadily, she released her burning arrow.

[Ent]

He let her run, the raven haired woman who he had held captive with little to show for it. Alexander let her go to her lover, a man that had come to rescue her without hesitation and now stood across from him with bow in hand. The necromancer looked towards those who stood against him, the group of three readying themselves to fight him and the girl quickly closing the distance between them. "As you wish."

He watched them light their arrows and draw their bows and prepare to fire, Faith quickly out of their shot as she headed for Padraig and his sword. With a sigh the ancient man watched the arrows released, their flaming tips sailed through the air towards him and he remained stationary as he swung his sword. The crimson blade knocked aside Padraig's arrow with lightening speed as the arrow fired by Kali'rial struck him in his thigh. The necromancer did not even stagger as the tip tore through his flesh, instead he grabbed the shaft and pulled the arrow loose, not a single drop of blood came from the now extinguished arrow as he threw it to the ground and dropped into a crouch.

His hand brushed across the top of the snow as his lips appeared to move, murmurs travelling indistinguishably across the snow. Then it came before anyone had chance to stop it, the snow began to move the surface upon which they all stood beginning to loose its compact strength as the beast stood from below. Snow rushed from below the feet of both Alexander and the rescuers, it moved to fill the space left from where the creature had laid dormant. Faith would reach them just in time for this fall, likely ending up laying with her lover in the freezing powder as it settled and the monster let out its terrible shriek.

It could only be described as across between a bird and some sort of giant cat. A beak sat on its huge jaws and its claws were more like talons and the sound it made was much more bird like than mammal. Still, it was a fearsome opponent, nothing like what they would have experienced in the past. It's body was perfectly preserved by the ice and snow like it had died just moments ago.

Quickly it orientated itself, looking over the vast whiteness and picking out the four laying in the snow and blocking Alexander from any more shots. Within trills it set upon the group, swinging a massive taloned foot at the group moving down the middle and, assuming they acted quickly enough, separating the two couples. Padraig and Faith would be forced to the left side of the creature and Pash and Kali to the right leaving them separated and cut off from one another by the white furred creature.

Still the giant seemed to wish to pursue the Sev'ryn and Biqaj turning to face them as Alexander walked around the beasts rear and stood now around 10 metres from his intended targets. "I have heard you are skilled with that sword of yours Mr Scientist, how about you drop that bow and prove it to me." A wicked smile crossed his face as bloodlust began to creep through his undead body, a craving for human flesh he fought everyday growing within him and pishing him to the brink. His second hand moved over to the hilt of his longsword as he took his stance and prepared to fend off whatever the next move from his enemies was. "You may join too my dear but I would hate to hurt you before I found out what I need to know." He looked at the small woman and snickered amused by himself yet again, one of his many personalities having gained dominance.

Meanwhile Pash and Kali would be left to deal with the monstrosity that pursued them, conviction in its movements as it swung its talons and launched itself towards them with its powerful beak and teeth. Even with the conviction the beast suffered from its speed, slower than Kali and Pash to move and turn quickly in small rotations especially but its strikes were hard to dodge as they move with such high velocity from the creatures powerful muscles.

[Faith Augustin]

She moved, he fired and Faith ran to him. Those who knew her knew just how disciplined a young woman Faith was, yet tears ran down her bruised face; she was terrified and in this moment she was as afraid for him as for herself. Pash and Kali, too, were here and they were vulnerable, she knew. Because she was running away from him, Faith couldn't see whether Padraig's or Kali'rial's arrows hit. As she reached Padraig's side, as though in mockery of her heart swelling with relief, the world just lifted and then surged up and dropped and Faith instinctively grabbed on to Padraig, clinging on to him as the very floor raised and dropped them. This was all bordering on much, much too much for the young woman and in the moment, the half a trill that she hung on to him, Padraig could undoubtedly feel that her entire body was shaking. Emotionally, she was on the edge of breaking down into hysteria and all that was stopping her was sheer force of will. He knew, and he would know without the bonds they shared anyway; the simple truth was that Faith was perilously close to falling apart.

The creature which rose up from the snow was an abomination and Faith scrambled to her feet, feeling Padraig pull her up and her hand subconsciously grasping for him. It was fear that drove her, now, as she saw that creature. Not fear for herself, that had long since stopped fuelling her and had she felt that and that only, she would have simply curled up and given in. No, this was much more powerful, much more primeval and even visceral; Faith was afraid that people were going to get hurt because of helping her and, worse than that even, she was afraid for him.

So, she pulled his sword from his belt. The creature fundamentally separated the two groups, her and Padraig were facing Alexander and Pash and Kali were facing the creature. Alexander taunted Padraig and Faith held back, waiting to see what Padraig would do. As Qylios' blessing glowed on her arm and his, she knew that he wanted to protect her, that his priority first and last was her. As, of course, he knew that her prioity was him. Faith stood her ground, Padraig's sword in her hand and the thought that it made no sense for them to charge. It was what he wanted them to do, so that meant it was not what they should do.

If Padraig was of a like mind, Faith would not move. Instead, she spoke. "Or how about you tell him your story. Tell him of the love you had that you think was ever anything but an abomination. How she was struck down by Famula herself, because she was such a twisted creature and how you now think that you're seeking answers?"

Faith looked at Alexander and she spoke clearly, suddenly feeling much more calm. "If anyone harmed him, I wouldn't stop until they were dead. No matter what they were or how powerful they were. Fear drives you, not love. Love wouldn't hide up here." If she could get Alexander to move, to attack them, then they would have the home ground advantage, they would be the ones standing and defending. If they charged him, however, the reverse was the case. Please, blessed Moseke, Faith prayed, let Pash and Kali be safe. Let this work. Should Padraig be of a similar mind, that was what she would do. If he charged, though, then he did so with her, not alone. If they could enrage Alexander then, she believed, they could fight together and chop him into kibbles and bits.

[Pash Raj'oriq]

“What’s th’ damn question?”

Pash couldn’t help himself, his loud voice heavily weighted with Biqaj bravado. Ymiden had been a mixed bag from the first evening of the season and stumbling across Kali’rial again to the psychological failures of the Immortal’s Tongue to the terrible Scalroth jungle. This felt uncomfortably like the cumulation of those events, the drawing together of various threads of a tangle to form a heavy Quilt of something new, something else.

It was not safe. It was not comfortable. That was for sure. Terrified and yet compelled, the insatiable bard couldn’t help but find himself swept along by the swift current, willing to figure out how to swim amongst the sharks. This time not for himself but for those who mattered—his friends.

This undead man who wanted his pain spoken to, an answer given, seethed with a lifeless bitterness that the Empath didn’t need his spark to see, the tone of his voice and the expression on his face laying all his cards on the rock and snow between them. Pash could only imagine what some unfathomable length of time could ferment bitterness and hurt into: it was ugly. Ugliness was what he’d seen for arcs in the depths of other’s tangles—no one was safe from the dark feelings, no matter how well everyone hid it behind a surface smile and pleasantries. This ugliness, though, this was consuming, starving, and out to devour anything this undead man’s desires led him to hunger for.

Still, he let Faith all but fly to them, to Padraig, unchallenged even as his companions released their burning arrows at him—

And did nothing.

“Mezo!” Pash hissed in surprise and disappointment, the seafaring minstrel's eyes widening the vji’at bastard crouched. Just as the Empath began to realize that their foe was most likely using magic, the snowy, rocky ground beneath his feet erupted and tossed him like a doll. It was all he could do to cling to the torch and not burn himself or Kali’rial in the process, waving the brand wildly to keep it alight and to keep them both safe. The landing knocked the frigid wind from his lungs along with a string of Rakahi curses that would have made his grandmother blush, scrambling desperately to his feet only to find himself immobilized in place by the sight of the creature that rose from the frozen earth before them, between them, the hulking once-dead beast obeying the will of its master to separate the four of them from each other in pairs.

Pash grit his teeth and made his choice, feeling for just one more heartbeat the absolute terror swelling like a tidal wave in the hull of his chest, rushing white-capped and furious to surge through his veins.

It would not, he decided.

It would simply not.

He cut it all, there, in the blink of an eye, slashing through threads like a dagger in his own tangle and denying all his fear, all his worry, and all of his particular self-doubts. Instead, he chose only to allow the emotional rush of his thrill-seeking bravado, of steadfast readiness, and of genuine concern to flood his senses. It was a lie of sorts, a magical hat trick: the ultimate self-deception, in a way. But it would have to do, this spark-fueled focus he made for himself. Others’ lives were on the line and he’d learned his lessons in much more self-destructive fashions earlier in the season.

He may have even grinned, picking up his hummed tune where he’d left off, scrambling to his feet to help Kali should she need it, wary gaze on the lumbering beast as it turned on them, all beak and claws and … fur. A snow beast. An Immortals-be-damned undead snow beast.

“It’s slower than th’ oh-deer, lover.” Pash’s tone defied the situation, his spark-filled bravery hopefully contagious, oozing from his frozen pores, in his hand the sputtering, burning torch which he gripped tightly in his gloved hand, his words clouds of moisture in the frigid air, ”Fire, Faith said, eh? I’m goin’ t’ get it’s attention since you’ve got th’ arrows. Let’s make it dead dead.”

The seafaring minstrel without fear was a strange creature, his usual self-confidence amplified by a foolhardiness he’d not allowed to be free in the times of danger when it would have perhaps once been more advantageous (which was, truth be told, anywhere else other than here and now most likely). Pash had come to help Padraig and Faith, and he’d almost lost Kali (and himself) over the edge of some damn frozen cliff. Here, as he raised the torch and waved it, as he waded closer, he steeled himself for the stupid thing he was doing, the desperate things that would have to happen between now and being back on board The Muse sailing for home.

Because that was going to happen. After all was said and done.

They were all going home. Together. Alive.

This he repeated a few times like a stanza to a melody of a song as he shifted his entire self into a comfortable, hand-to-hand sort of stance, continuing to allow his spark to deny himself a moment of fear because he had no choice. He would have been helpless otherwise, unable to act.

Instead, he relaxed and prepared himself to dodge, to duck and roll and cartwheel away should he need to from beak and claw, simply wanting to attract the creature’s attention to allow Kali some opportunity he knew he didn’t yet have, though the creature’s swings were far more forceful than some kick from his cousin by the shores of Lake Rea back home in Ne’Haer all those arcs, hard and fast and deadly. He wanted to out-maneuver the beast but hold its focus, willing to invite whatever that meant for himself,

“Oi—o’er here y’ gant it’qaj!”

Off Topic

YAS. Big scary monster. Let’s kill it. Also, Pash without fear. Hold onto your frozen pants! Now accepting song requests. Get yours in.

[Kali'rial]

Damn.

Her arrow had made contact, but it was for nothing as the leather clad man ripped the projectile from his thigh like some splinter in his palm. The brunette moved to grab another arrow as he knelt to the snow, when the ground started to move beneath them like a sudden avalanche, causing the Sev'ryn to shift to regain her balance. Suddenly, with a shower of powdery snow and torn earth, a great undead beast rose from the depths beneath them with ghastly claws and a rendering beak. Kali'rial stumbled and fell back, tumbling before coming to a winding stop on her back. Gasping, she crawled backwards to move away and struggle to her feet even as a great taloned foot crashed down to seperate her and the seafaring bard from the others.

"Immortals...what the-" She whispered, bow gripped tightly in one hand with fear. Her heart raced wildly in her chest and her blood ran cold, feeling an overwhelming terror creeping up her spine. Images of Immortals Tongue flashed in her mind and she wanted to run, until beside her Pash's words pulled her back from the brink, causing her to look over to see the sailor grinning wildly. He was there to fight with her, to fight for her.

She wasn't alone.

They stood together, daughter of the Southern Jungles and son of the Eastern Seas, whilst the Biqaj's bold tone lit a beacon for her and guided her back to a sense of discipline. She shot him a smile, before looking around quickly for her oiled arrows. They had scattered around due to the snow-plosion, some shattering along the way and the lantern tipped over on its side, spilling a trail of flaming oil yet still burning brightly in the broken glass bauble from the liquid that remained. Spotting one unbroken shaft in the snow, the Sev'ryn picked it up and nocked her bow.

"Qes qu'ama, very dead." The brunette said, before moving to light the arrow on the brand. She watched the creature as she drew her bow, intent on making her shot a meaningful one whilst the sunkissed bard drew its vile attentions. Her periwinkle gaze focused on it's beady eye as she inhaled, heart thumping in her ears. If the abomination turned to Pash, she would exhale and release the arrow, aiming for the black centre.

[Padraig]

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He already knew that the thing that had taken Faith was unnatural. Or at least as a man, had unnatural talents. Abhorrent ones. So far as magical inclinations, an abomination and insult to everything good and right. She'd told them as much before she'd twisted out of his grips and stumbled away. But Padraig had doubted it, to be able to swat an arrow shot from a bow right out of the air as if it was nothing more than an annoying insect, only seemed to confirm it. It changed nothing. Padraig was resolved to kill him, one way or another.

He'd just dropped the bow at his feet, when the ground beneath them rumbled, heaved, buckled and shifted, sending him stumbling backwards and onto his backside. With Faith in his arms, he back peddled, heels dug in and further away from whatever it was that was climbing out from under the snow. That too was an abomination and Padraig was quick to climb to his feet again. And in the process, he and Faith, and Pash and Kali'rial had become divided into pairs. He could only hope that the couple could hold their own. It seemed that divide and conquer was Faith's tormentor's goal. But there was something to learn there. Powerful and swift he might be, but there were chinks in the armor, vulnerabilities to exploit.

What he needed to know? What, exactly? So far as Padraig was concerned, it didn't matter. He wouldn't have it. The two of them, him and Faith were stronger together than separately. It would have been the case without the brands, he was sure of it. But the brands and the bonds guaranteed it. "I have nothing to prove to you," he said. But nonetheless he lifted his arm, his hand to the side, palm opened to the suns'light reflecting off the snow and the gold ring of light round his arm thrummed and burned brighter as a sword made of pure light swirled into existence.

Faith knew what he was thinking, and he knew the same in reverse. Impulse and anger compelled him to charge in and try to cut the man to pieces, just as he probably hoped that they would. But logic and better sense won out, the scientist in him invariably did. There was a thin line between love and hate. Padraig knew which side he stood on. It appeared as if the man was confused, regarding his own position. That too could be exploited. The sword made of light seemed to hum with anticipation, or maybe it was his own baser inclinations feeding the sensation. Nonetheless he smiled, completely without humor. "You seem to think you have a captive audience. So go ahead. Tell us," he taunted.