The summer break has eaten away most of my creativity, but I really want to start writing again so here is this little "warm up" piece I did to get my moves back. This is about the death of Kalla Scorchrazor, extraordinary badass female charr. Her story fascinated me since I first read it in Ghosts of Ascalon, and now I finally got around to writing something about her.
Scorch Marks
"After the Searing some charr realized that the shamans of the Flame Legion – who had long abused their powers – had tricked us. A warrior named Pyre Fierceshot helped spur the rest of us to stand up to the Flame Legion, but we did not triumph until his granddaughter, Kalla Scorchrazor, led a rebellion that restored female charr to their rightful place." (Ember Doomforge, Ghosts of Ascalon, p. 135)
xxx
"Surrender," Kalla Scorchrazor tells the assembled forces of the Flame Legion, her voice drowning out every other sound in the Plains of Golghein, where charr have come to slaughter charr in a battle unprecedented in their history.
From his place in the front of their host Forge can tell that their enemies are badly outnumbered. There are at least two of them for every Flame Legion soldier – it is because they have females in their army, bitches with swords and axes, claws as sharp as that of every male and a hunger for vengeance that makes them the most bloodthirsty of warriors. They will fight for their cause till either they have won or the last drop of blood has left their bodies.
The Imperator of the Iron Legion has never felt more right in what he is doing than in that moment, looking at the black back of Scorchrazor and the trembling forms of the Flame Legion men ahead of her.
He didn't believe her first, thought that she was just a female who didn't know her place, but she made him realize that she does know her place, more thoroughly than any other charr he's ever met.
Kalla Scorchrazor, the bitch with the black fur and eyes as bright as the sun, will lead them to victory. It doesn't matter whether the Flame Legion army chooses to fight or not, because if they don't surrender this first army of males and females in hundreds of years will rip them to shreds until their blood turns the plains crimson and everything left of their bones are ashes.
The silence after Scorchrazor's words drags on like eternity until, finally, a Tribune of the Flame Legion steps forward, his armor still torn from an earlier fight.
"The Flame Legion surrenders to the forces of Blood, Iron and Ash Legion," he announces hoarsely, "As you promised we will lay down our weapons in exchange for our lives."
"So bring me the Imperator of the Flame Legion, then," she demands before their forces even have a chance to burst into howls of victory, "Bring me Gordian Blazeclaw to tell all of us of the surrender of the Flame Legion so we can make peace and be one people again."
It is a wise move, to have the surrender told by Blazeclaw himself and heard by everyone. This will end this war, this slaughter of kin, once and for all and Forge is relieved when he sees the forces of the Flame Legion actually part for their Imperator.
His fur is as red as fire, the garb of a shaman showing off his scrawny chest – somehow the Iron Legion Imperator expected the other male to be more muscular, taller, but Blazeclaw is neither. Forge has to remind himself that what makes this charr dangerous is not his physical prowess but his magic.
"I have come as you wish, Kalla Scorchrazor," the Flame Legion Imperator hollers, leaving the ranks of his men behind and stepping into the gap between the two armies, "To tell you of the defeat of the Flame Legion."
Scorchrazor moves to join him in the no-man's-land between the hosts.
Saenus Mistgaze hisses in warning and Forge himself make a step forward to follow her, but the stubborn bitch just shakes her head, motioning both for him and the Imperator of the Ash Legion to stand back. Leadblade doesn't look convinced either, but she is of his legion and Blood did always value grand gestures more than the rest of them.
They meet in the middle, Scorchrazor standing tall and proud and Blazeclaw staring at her with hate and defiance in his dark eyes.
"The Flame Legion surrenders to you," he drawls at least, his disgust palpable when the Imperator of the Flame Legion slowly sinks to his knees in front of the bitch standing before him, "In exchange for our lives we will lay down our arms to you, Kalla Scorchrazor."
Gordian Blazeclaw has to despise every second of what is happening, but he didn't become an Imperator by being dumb. This is the only chance the Flame Legion has left to survive. All of them know it, and a sigh leaves Forge's throat when he sees the male on his knees because it means tha-
"Stand up, Gordian Blazeclaw," Scorchrazor tells the other charr in that moment, placing a dark paw on his upper arm to drag him back to his feet, "We hear your surrender… but the time when charr kneeled before each other is gone. Stand up, brother, to-"
She suddenly slumps down as Blazeclaw gets up, leaning heavily onto her shoulder with his left hand, the right one holding the dagger buried deep into Scorchrazor's flank. Blood is running down its hilt.
"I'm taking you with me, bitch," the Flame Legion Imperator hisses.
Those are his last words, because then Forge has reached them. He does neither hear the roar of the army in his back, nor the deadly silence that follows. He only sees Kalla Scorchrazor collapse to the ground in a heap, too much blood pouring out of her wound, and Blazeclaw laughing into his face, dagger still in his paw.
The other male has no time to react as the Imperator of the Iron Legion brings his broadsword down, severing his head from his shoulders in one swift strike.
It is the end of Gordian Blazeclaw, but Forge knows that it is also the end of Kalla Scorchrazor.
He sinks beside her in the dry grass of the plain, vaguely aware that charr from both sides of the battlefield are closing in on them, but not caring. They won't be of any help.
"Kalla," he never deigned to call her that before because he is an Imperator and she isn't even officially a soldier, but that doesn't matter anymore, "Stay awake, don't close your eyes! You hear me, bitch? Don't you dare close your damn eyes."
She is looking at him, then at someone beside him and then back at him, her golden eyes already glazing over. Her bloodstained lips twist into a feral smile, "Poison."
The charr beside him that she stared at is Mistgaze, and when Forge looks at the other Imperator he only nods – there is no way out of this for her. They both know it, and Scorchrazor knows it, too. She will die on this battlefield that never was, will die in triumph an defeat at the same time, because there is so much more she wanted to achieve and now never will.
Forge Ironstrike remembers then. He remembers her determined stare when she challenged them to fight her, any male, because she could beat them all. He remembers fighting her for over two hours in the ruins of Rin, remembers the way she looked, proud and just as determined as before when she finally pounced him, her teeth to his bare throat. He remembers her ripping the chains off her fellow females until her paws bleed, remembers how she talked about coming back to Rin one day and turning the ruins into a charr city, one for all of them.
"At least I die knowing my sisters are free," her voice his raspy and full of pain, but her eyes still shine.
"We will tell them," Leadblade promises beside him.
It is the last thing any of them says as they stand vigil and watch Kalla Scorchrazor die. The poison works fast, makes her cough blood and sends shivers of pain through her body – watching it is a vicious kind of torture, but none of them looks away. They owe her that much.
One last, ragged breath and it is over. Mistgaze closes her now dull golden eyes and Leadblade strikes up a howl so deep and full of sorrow that it goes to the bone. Forge only looks at Scorchrazor's dead body as more and more voices join the Imperator of the Blood Legion.
A rattle makes him jump a little. Some cub has squeezed through all the adults and Forge wonders what a child does on a battlefield until he sees her chains.
Even an army needs cooks, someone to look for the cattle and clean the waste away. Those are the works for a female, a long forgotten voice reminds him and fuck does it make him angry.
The cub wants to flinch away from him, but he is faster and her iron chains rip under his paws in seconds. Never again. Him, Leadblade and Mistgaze, they will make it happen, he swears in that moment. They will honor her death.
Yellow eyes meet his gaze. The kid's fur is more dirt than brown and the left side of her face marred with blood and bruises. For an instant she just looks at him, but then her eyes wander over to lay on Kalla Scorchrazor's corpse that looks a lot more at peace dead than she did dying.
"Khan-Ur died?" she asks him, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.
He opens his mouth to answer, and then closes it again.
Khan-Ur… unifier of charr… more powerful than any other… the ungues she took from the Flame Legion soldier that broke her great sword still at her hips… Kalla, who'd never killed another charr willingly, who wanted to build them a new citadel for all charr…
The sun has begun to set and all around them their fellow charr are howling in grief, even some of the Flame Legion.
"Yes, she is," Forge Ironstrike finally admits, scooping up the child into his arms and joining his voice to those of his brothers and sisters.
Because the second true Khan-Ur is dead, and he doesn't know if there will ever be a third one.