Anger and Loss
30
DEC/20
The three of them huddled there underneath their makeshift hut and stared intently into the flames of the small, shielded fire they had made for warmth. The dried saguaro popped and crackled merrily as the hungry flames devoured it, the cheery sound standing out in stark contrast to the dark mood that wrapped itself around the three like bondage chains. The stars overhead blazed with their cold intensity, piercing the veil of darkness with unnatural force. In addition to their abnormal brightness, the stars also deviated in their normal orderly march across the heavens. Stars fell and streaked from the sky, new constellations sprang into existence only to be subsumed again by the ravenous, omnipotent darkness. A stubborn few of these new stars remained however, hanging delicately in the night sky by fragile, cosmic threads; twinkling weakly but defiantly, and radiating silent hope to the world below. The Constellation of the Dragon Queen raged at these new additions to Her dominion, the stars within burned with malice at this challenge to Her supremacy. It was because of this cosmic upheaval that the three men shielded themselves from view of the stars above; Lathander might own the day, but She still ruled the night. And She was hunting them.
Mar’iya waited until the fire had nearly died out completely before throwing another cactus husk onto the flames; flames which promptly livened up at the feast, hissing and popping with delight. Mar’iya knew they should rest, but he also knew that they would not. Not tonight, anyway. He and David no longer needed to eat or sleep – a testament to their raw Psionic will – and Oni was still too full of fiery rage to settle in for the night. And so they sat there, huddled in silence, staring into the tiny fire and listening intently to the wind; as the crackle of every twig and every solitary rustle in the wind threatened to announce their discovery and doom.
The three had hardly spoken since escaping the Sunken Temple, saving their energy for the long trek back to Raam – an arduous feat made all the more foreboding by the knowledge of the uncertainty that awaited them in the Black City, coupled by the enormous weight of their recent losses. They had been successful in their grander mission, having destroyed the black gem and wounding the Dark Goddess in the process, but at what cost? Half of their number had perished in the effort and they now were being hunted by an abomination; a corruption of one of their own. Selise had become a herald of the white head of Tiamat, a living testament to the rage of a Goddess scorned. Selise herself would be a formidable enough foe, silent and lethal as a red-crested viper, but when bolstered by the very might of the Dragon Queen Herself…Mar’iya shook his head slightly at the thought. Selise…no, she was that no longer…the White Rider would hunt them with every ounce of hate in her heart, and when she caught up with them, it would take everything they had to stop her.
Mar’iya snuck a glance to Oni where he sat, staring into the flames with an intensity that seemed to burn hotter than the embers of the fire he beheld, his burning rage making the flames seem as cold as the night air by comparison. The last of the Yavapai, the Light Made Flesh, his friend; Oni did not mourn, so much as he seethed with righteous fury. When the time came, Mar’iya did not doubt that Oni would not hesitate to strike the White Rider down, no matter what visage she wore. Mar’iya hoped that he had that same certainty about himself when that dark time came.
He glanced over at David where he sat on his other side, idly running his hands over the hilt of Sora’s gleaming sword; the light of the campfire painting the weapon with a dazzling palette of oranges and reds, as the reflected flames made the wicked steel blade seem to be wreathed in blood and fire. David had shared a powerful bond with the mighty gladiator; the two of them had been linked by the very chains of Fate; chains which had been cruelly severed with Sora’s death. And now, like a slave that suddenly found himself broken free of the shackles that had bound him for so long, David found himself faced with two choices: run away and escape or stay and fight against those who had so wronged him. Though the cold, hard-set lines of his face betrayed no insight into where he stood on this path, the burning intensity of his stare offered a window into the fiery tempest that now roiled within him. It was as if Sora’s fiery battle rage had found a new home inside of David, and you did not need to be an Oracle to predict that there was a great deal more killing in his future.
Mar’iya looked back to the fire and reflected upon their plight. It was hard to imagine how they could persevere now and what they should do next. Their losses had been great: Sora, the grand champion of the Black Pits of Raam, had led the charge against so many of their enemies; taking blows that would have felled the great champions of yore, with fearless, unbridled intensity and prowess. And Naga, the elf cursed of the Dragon Queen herself, but somehow still able to use this blasphemy for good; channeling Her dark gifts into radiant healing magic. The group had not been fair to Naga, Mar’iya realized sadly, hiding their thoughts from his ears so that he could not inadvertently give their secrets away to the Dragon Queen. How foolish they had been to think they could hide from Her for long. How long had Selise been corrupted by the Dark Goddess’s wicked spirit? She had seemed different since the bite of that undead fiend, but Mar’iya had chalked her emotional change up to the stress of their mission and to being so grievously wounded. But now it seems that Selise had indeed died in that attack and, in those briefest of moments between her cold body hitting the floor and the scant seconds before Naga raced to her side and healed her, the corruption had taken hold, and the White Rider standing forever in her stead.
He had been so naïve, Mar’iya thought gravely as he threw another dried cactus onto the dying flames. Life as Mar’iya had allowed him to grow trusting and soft, a comfort that had eluded him up until now, but also one that had caused him to miss so many obvious signs and clues. He felt the spirit of Vashir stir within him at this realization, and a cold, icy calm began to work its way up his spine. Yes, Mar’iya thought sadly, he still needed the Viper Who Walks like a Man, at least for what awaited them in the near future. Mar’iya consciously allowed the specter of Vashir to overtake him, the dark form inhabiting him like a ghost possessing their unfortunate victim.
When he had assumed control, Vashir tucked Mar’iya away – and with him any insecurity, self-doubt, and humanity that particular avatar seemed plagued with – stowing him safely away to await better, softer, calmer days. A cold-blooded killer was who they needed at the helm now. Vashir turned to stare back into the crackling fire as he resumed control and pondered their choices. Yes, Tiamat had gotten the better of them this time, toying with them like a Kivit playing with a Z’tal before finally killing it. But he also knew three things that brought a slight, cold smile to his face: they had escaped Her clutches in spite of Her best efforts to thwart them; they had hurt Her badly in the process; and, instead of breaking their spirits, She had instead awakened their righteous anger. When they met again, they would be more prepared, he promised himself. Vashir’s smile widened and he threw the last of the dried cactus onto the flames. Besides, he thought to himself, if Tiamat could be hurt, She could also be killed, couldn’t She?