Under the warm sun of an early summer day, Conan of Cimmeria was hiking through the fields of southern Aquilonia, west of Tarantia. He was not alone, however. Just a few paces behind him was the mysterious woman, doing her best to keep up with the barbarian. He had spent the past two months or so taking care of her until her wounds had largely healed. Once she was capable of walking, he had told her she was free to go wherever she wished, now that she could take care of herself. Given she apparently had nowhere to go and nothing to her name, she had elected to travel with Conan to his homeland of Cimmeria.
Conan didn't mind the company. In fact it was nice having a traveling companion. He had had many in the past, his travels having allowed him to meet and befriend a number of people of many nations and cultures. Of course, most of them had been a bit more experienced than his current company. He had quickly found that the woman was inexperienced in life on the road. Indeed, she seemed to have little knowledge of how to hunt or fish or live off the land in any way. Granted, even if she had known it, she likely couldn't remember anyway. Conan had quickly learned that the woman had little memory of just about anything. Still, she seemed eager to learn, and he didn't mind teaching much.
Her walking pace was still leagues behind his own, though. Then again, that was something that came from years of wandering and travel, something which Conan had plenty of. And so, returning to the present, he spots something in the distance. Some leagues away from the crest of the hill they stand upon, lie a rock outcrop of some kind. From it poured water, tumbling down into a small lake. The perfect place to refill their water skins. He turned to his companion, and gestured towards the lake. "We will stop there for a time, refill our reserves." He said. She turned her attention from her bag and looked where he was pointing. "As good a place as any, I suppose." She replied.
She took up her bag and followed as he started walking. He had gotten her some new clothing for the journey, since her old rags were neither practical nor durable in any sense. She now had a set of simple yet durable linen trousers, a matching shirt, and a leather vest over that. They fit a little loosely, but not terribly. Of course that was because Conan had bought them without her present, given she didn't have anything besides rags to wear into the city. But they served their purpose. The sandles, at least, seemed to fit perfectly.
Within half an hour the two had reached the lake. Conan sat under a tree, idly sharpening his sword. Being the son of a smith, he has always known that the best weapons were the ones best cared for. Nearby, at the shore, the woman was organizing her pack. One thing Conan had noticed was that she had an eye for details, and impressive powers of perception. He also thought that he needed something else to call her than "woman". He still hesitated to give her a name, though. She undoubtedly had one, though she could not recall it. He had no authority to give her one, and she had yet to ask for one at any rate.
He was broken from his thoughts by the sound of a tumbling stone. He looked and saw it fall from the outcrop, down across the rock, and land on a ledge just above the lake. It was a small thing, but his honed senses had picked up on it. His instincts flared to life, the hairs on the back of his neck beginning to stand up. The stone had come from above the waterfall, meaning it likely hadn't been dislodged by the water. He had seen no animals upon the outcrop which could cause the stone to fall. For that matter, he had seen no animals save insects since their arrival at the lake. In these dry plains a source of water should have been teeming with antelope and bison. Yet nothing made a sound.
He was fully alert now, slowly getting up from his seat under the tree. He moved slowly yet casually, but he was tense, ready to strike at any second. He walked towards the woman, who had yet to notice anything amiss. As he approached, she looked up at him quizzically. "Need anything?" She asked, gesturing towards her bag. He met her gaze, then moved his eyes up towards the outcrop. At the same time, he tapped his sword. She appeared confused for a moment, then her eyes widened with realization. He nodded,"Just my water skin. We should leave soon, if we wish to make the woods by nightfall." He said casually. She nodded, understanding his plan. She handed him the skin, then he began walking back towards the tree.
There! In the grass he saw two figures. He could barely make them out, the only detail a slight movement around two patches of shrubs. As he moved, he saw them move towards him. The grass made little sound or movement as they moved. It was as if they were fish through water. No human could move like that, yet Conan suspected these were no mere beasts either. He kept his grip on his sword, watching their paths. Just as he reached the tree, they stopped. He stood for a moment, and made as if he were inspecting his blade, his back to the grass. In actuality, he was watching the mirrored sheen of his sword, seeing the figures begin moving once more. They were at the edge of the grass now.
If they sought battle, the Cimmerian was happy to oblige. He stood there for what felt like hours, but was actually just seconds. When he heard the grass rustle, time seemed to slow. He saw the figure leap up, drifting through the air. He saw it's glinting dagger, it's black cloak, and he read its trajectory perfectly. He struck without hesitation. He whirled around like a striking adder, his sword cutting true, flashing in the midday sun. In less than a second, his attacker's shoulders no longer bore the burden of its head. It's cloaked form fell limp, and Conan saw that his suspicions were confirmed.
As it died, the body slowly shifted in shape. Bone and muscle and skin all flowed like water. Pink skin became green scales. Fingers became claws. From the back emerged a long tail, covered in black diamond patterns. Conan knew this was no man, but a Serpent-Man! He had fought members of that elder race many times, and he knew their prowess in stealth and shapeshifting was unmatched. Of course, he had little time to ponder his discovery, as a second later it's companion erupted from the grass. Seeing its ruse was up, it resumed its natural form, tearing its mask away to reveal furious red eyes and a fanged snarl. It let loose a mighty hissing roar, and now Conan realized it was nearly twice the size of the one he had just slain.
A startled cry from behind alerted him to the third Serpent's presence. It was a blue scaled beast, skinnier and smaller then his current opponent, which emerged from the water. Conan suspected this was the one which had been hiding upon the outcrop earlier. It drew its blade and lunged at the woman, but she parried with her own dagger. It appeared surprised to meet resistance, and she used its moment of hesitation to put distance between herself and it. Of course, this momentary distraction nearly cost the Cimmerian dearly, as he just barely dodged a wicked hooked mace swung at his head!
As he leapt back, he saw the burly rust-scaled Serpent snarl in frustration. Conan got into his fighting stance immediately as he hit the ground. Stance wide, body lowered, and broadsword grasped with both hands, he glared a challenge at the reptile. To its credit, the Serpent met his gaze fearlessly, and charged once more with a ferocious hiss. His gleaming blade met dull steel as he clashed with the creature. He blocked and parried many of its blows, attempting to strike where it could not block his. But the Serpent was far faster than he anticipated. It always managed to twist around to parry his sword whenever he lunged in for a blow.
Throughout it all Conan caught glimpses of his companion's fight against her own scaly opponent. To her credit she was holding her own, matching the blue Serpent in dexterity and swiftness. The Cimmerian only caught one glimpse, but it even seemed that her opponent had a bit of fear written across its reptilian face. As much as he would've loved to observe the woman's combat prowess, he remained preoccupied with his own foe. As he lunged for an opening, he dodged a swing of the mace. Seconds later, he was met with a face-full of sand for his trouble. Crying out in surprise, he stumbled backwards, and was tripped by what he realized was likely his enemy's tail.
He fell on his back, though he maintained his hold on his sword. A second later he opened his eyes, and was met with an unpleasant sight. The Serpent-Man held its mace over its head, prepared to crush his skull like a dry leaf underfoot. It's face, the color of dry blood, was twisted in a mocking fanged sneer of victory. Before he could even attempt to block it, he heard his companion cry out. "NO!!!" She shouted, and the air itself shook. Suddenly there was a blinding silver light filling his vision. It shone as bright as the sun, yet it did not pain his eyes to look upon it. The mace wielding Serpent hissed and shrieked in agony. Conan recalled that light was anathema to them, likely why they attacked in the relative shade of the lakeside grove.
After a minute the light died down. Conan beheld his opponent flailing and shrieking, clutching at its eyes with its claws. It's mace lay forgotten in the dirt. Not wasting any time, Conan struck with his sword. He cut the reptile's throat, it's shrieks turning to hissing gurgles as it's throat filled with its own cold blood. It fell on its face, dying in the dirt. The barbarian spent no time pitying it, immediately turning to aid his companion. He found her lying on her back by the lakeshore, breathing heavily. He saw no sign of the blue Serpent, but judging from the dragging tracks and trail of blood, it had likely gone to find a dark hole in which to die comfortably.
He returned his attention to his friend, for after that they surely were true friends. He walked over and sat beside her. "Are you injured?" He asked, somewhat winded himself. "No." She replied breathlessly after a moment. He sat beside her for a while in silence, letting her recover her breath. "I thought you weren't a wizard?" He asked. "Well, apparently I am…" she replied. He nodded at that. "I suppose that is one more mystery about you we'll have to solve, then?" He asked, something of a smirk on his face. She looked up at him, curiosity on her face. "We?" She asked hopefully. Conan nodded solemnly. "Aye. We." He said, and he knew he was making an unbreakable vow.
He would help her find out who she was. It was the very least he could do after she saved his life then. She smiled at that, and they sat together until they had both regained their strength. After that, they made the trek to the Tarantian Woods, and made camp for the night in an open grotto. As they sat there, staring into the fire as the sun began to set, the woman raised her gaze to Conan. "You know, since we've met you haven't really called me anything besides 'woman'." She stated, though it was evident to the Cimmerian she wanted to know why. He simply shrugged and replied, "You have a name, though neither of us know it. I have no authority to name you. That right belongs to you alone." He stated.
She nodded, seeming satisfied with his answer. She then got up and walked to the edge of the clearing. When she came back, she held a small purple flower in her hands. "What kind of flower is this?" She asked, examining it intently. "Those are Aster. They are found throughout many lands. They grow wild in the hills of Cimmeria." He said, a hint of reminiscence sneaking into his voice. Every time he saw those flowers, he was reminded of his boyhood. Of climbing the crags, hunting game, and learning from his father. All memories he cherished, all things which made him into the man, the warrior he is now.
She continued to stare into the flower, it's gold heart surrounded by a soft purple crown. "Aster." She said, a soft smile gracing her features, "It's as good a name as any, then." Conan smiled at that, and walked around the fire. "Well then. It is my pleasure to meet you, Aster, my friend." He said, holding out his hand. She met his blue eyes with her dark purple, and shook his hand. "A pleasure to meet you as well, Conan the Cimmerian." She replied with a small smile, a little joking, but entirely genuine.
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Set was seething with rage, even more so than usual. Mortals never could get things done could they? His devotees had become distracted, losing focus on their mission. Their souls had been sent screaming to him in the Void, where he would torture them for a few centuries for good measure. Before devouring them of course. Their failure was no matter in the long term, however. Eventually the angel's soul would be his. With the primordial magic she contained, he would be able to empower his servants, give them the might to conquer and destroy the servants of Mitra and the Light. They would march across the world, bringing darkness and shedding blood. All in his dark name. Yes, he thought to himself with a sulfurous grin. It was only a matter of time.
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Well I hope you guys like this chapter! Yep, Angela's still got some of her magic, but it takes it out of her.
Anyway, somewhat longer time skip after this. Probably a year or two. And yes, I will be bringing in other She Ra characters in a couple chapters, so stay tuned!