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Anemosi rose. The floor was cold beneath her bare feet, and she was
painfully aware of how her gown was ripped in all the wrong places. Her
father's gaze slid over her, carving her bare beneath clothes, flesh, and
bone, and like their last encounter, she felt him moving in her mind. He
was seeking for a break in her armor, but this time she was prepared.
*PAIN!* she thought, and it was as if a thousand arrows were shot out
of her mind and lodged themselves in her father's skull. He stumbled backwards,
and in the time she had won, she shouted at Aragorn and Legolas.
"Take them! Get Frodo and Sam out of here!"
Aragorn stared at her. Her eyes were wild and dilated, but her commands were not to be disobeyed. She shot him a murderous glance as he paused.
"What are you waiting for? Do as I say!"
He needed no other warning. He lifted Sam's groaning form and heaved the hobbit over his shoulder. Legolas had already taken Frodo from his room and was running for the stairs. Tasla had stepped up behind Anemosi, ready to lend any support she could, but Anemosi's voice echoed in her head as Tasla was drawing her sword.
*Go! Aid Kerra...and keep her away from the Ringbearer. This is my battle.* As Tasla reluctantly disappeared, she could see Lord Radik pulling himself off the ground and facing his daughter.
They faced each other in the now-empty hallway. Just being in his presence made the cuts on her face and breasts burn like threads of fire, and her sore muscles were amplified agonizingly. She felt dizzy, and as the seconds ticked by, she could feel her strength leeching away, falling like raindrops flowing down flower petals. She turned her head aside to catch her breath, and her father struck in that instant.
His blow seared her in a volley of fire, scorching the flesh on the side of her chest and arm. She cried out weakly as the scent of burning meat filled her nostrils.
Below her, on the stairs, Sam heard her cry and fought in vain against Aragorn to try and reach her. Aragorn held on to the hobbit with a desperate strength, knowing that Sam would make an easy target for the destruction about to take place.
Back on the landing, Anemosi had staggered to her feet. Her father was circling her, chuckling darkly as his hands formed something hideous within their geometries. Her skin was blackened where he had hit her, and she had no doubt that his next blow would be even worse.
With a roar, she leapt at his throat, hoping that a physical attack would catch him off guard. He was stunned long enough for her to dig her nails into his neck and rip downwards, but he swung his arm into her stomach and sent her flying into the wall. Her vision went red, and before she could react, he was digging long claws into the soft flesh of her belly. She gritted her teeth against the pain, and slammed her head into his as hard as she could. Lord Radik fell backwards, and Anemosi gathered as much force as she could into one hand and slammed it against his solar plexus, shooting a solid shaft of pain straight through him with a shouted word. He roared in agony, bitter foam gathering at the edge of his mouth.
Casting about in the subtle wells of Power that shaped the world, she plucked an ancient spell of defense, drawing it down into her hand like a spill of diamonds. She scattered it at him, the shards slicing his face and carving away skin wherever they landed. In the rush of primal satisfaction that filled her when she saw her enemy cowering on the floor, she forgot that although he was without weapons, he was not without his own deadly defenses.
He slashed his own wrist open, spilling his potent blood into his palm, and breathed a word into the shifting liquid which he then sent spattering into Anemosi's face. She barely dodged the venomous fluid, but caught a few drops on her skirts, where it pocked and burned the thin fabric.
Now, the magic began. There was no more petty physical fighting; that was left for the lesser fighters. This battle was of a more subtle type, ancient and wild. And its two combatants were more than ready.
This was what Anemosi had been born for, the defense of her home and people. She lashed out with the force of destiny behind every blow, and every wall in Siobhangé shook as the powers that rushed together tore upwards from the bowels of the earth.
Beads of sweat swung out from her face as she whipped around to face her father, growing barbed and serrated as they flashed through the air. Her very body and its elements had become her greatest weapons as she battled for the safety of the fey in a lonely corridor while below, Sam wailed in fear for his beloved.
Aragorn cradled the little hobbit, whose body shook in tandem with every blow and scream that echoed from upstairs. His body had broken out in welts and bruises, and to a newly-awakened Frodo's horror, his eyes had taken on an unearthly glow, deep and silvered around the edges.
*What is happening to him?* Frodo moaned silently, still reeling from the blows Kerra had delivered to him. A rumble from the floor above them made Sam scream shrilly and thrash in Aragorn's arms, his teeth digging into his lower lip hard enough to draw a rivulet of blood. Frodo's gaze flew to the stairs as a flash lit up the landing in a blinding glare. A hoarse shriek floated down the stairs and the smells of decay and burning were overpowering. The four of them crouched on the stairs, too afraid to move while the battle was still going on, yet held there by a sickening curiosity.