Gades
"So let me get this straight," Nick said, thumb contemplatively scratching the stubble on his chin as he sat at the foot of the bed in his room--in which they had all gathered since it was the largest the inn had to offer, courtesy of Ramus--and peered at them each in turn. "You're a talking green cat with wings," he pointed at Rose, who turned up her nose in affront at the very notion--nothing new. "You're a swordsman from the Blue Star," this time the finger moved to Mark, on whose shoulder Rose was lightly perched, "who somehow managed to pull Althena's Sword out of old Dyne's Monument." Then the finger moved to Iris. "And you're who?"
"Just a traveler with a...personal interest in ancient relics," Iris tossed offhandedly, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back in her chair. Nick nodded subtly, though Mark could tell he was as skeptical as Rose. He couldn't for the life of them understand why they were both so distrusting. Iris had done nothing but help him so far, even if her help sometimes took almost frightening methods.
"And the three of you are going to the Star Dragon Tower so you can fetch another ancient sword from the Blue Star?"
All three nodded, but Mark also felt the need to add, "Yeah, that pretty much covers it. Still wanna come?"
"Are you kidding?" Nick barked a rather satisfied laugh, easing back to lean on his palms and smirking back. "I've heard legends of the strong monsters that came out of eons of hibernation when the Blue Star thawed. I'd give half my sword collection for a shot at just one, but unfortunately they don't take collateral at the Star Dragon Tower and I've never been able to afford the civilians' entrance fee. If you've still got a round trip booked, I can hardly refuse."
Again, Mark cast a brief glance at Iris, though this time for a different purpose. As before, she shrugged, waving the question off. Obviously it didn't matter to her one way or another; big surprise. Turning back to Nick, he nodded. "Sure. Another sword is always welcome. Glad to have you, Nick."
They had just reached out their right hands and clasped forearms, an old form of warrior's salute to seal the bargain--when the building shook, the ear-rending force of an explosion very nearly shattering the room's single window and sending Iris off balance just as she was rising to her feet herself. Thankfully--in more ways than one--she toppled right into Mark's shoulder, and he lifted his free arm to steady her carefully as he looked toward the window in confusion.
"Wh-What the heck was that?!" Rose stammered out, scrabbling frantically at Mark's cape to maintain her perch. Iris regained her feet, and Mark and Nick released each other's hands as all three rushed to the window.
They arrived just in time for another explosion, much more violent, to throw them all off their feet as it truly did shatter the window this time. Rose was the first to recover, flapping up into the air before she could even hit the floorboards and moving to hover cautiously before the window. She let out a little squeak that was somewhere between a gasp and a yelp, whirling toward her fallen human companions and stuttering incoherently.
Second, unsurprisingly, was Iris, who gently plucked the cat-like creature out of the air and cradled her close against her chest, fingers stroking soothingly between the green fur of her ears as she watched the scene outside impassively.
Mark and Nick rose at nearly the same time, and when they arrived, their expressions were of similar shock.
Inexplicably, there was only a single man forging his way out of the smoking crater that had once been the town square; the only thing remaining of it now was a single island of land in the center, with the statue of Althena cradling a crescent moon in loving arms barely scorched in the very center. But it wasn't even the sheer size of the man--easily twice Nick's in all dimensions--that left them so slack-jawed.
It was the sheer aura that pervaded the air around him, shimmering so that it even distorted the air like heat-waves. Every fall of his feet, sheathed in midnight-blue greaves that matched the rest of his inconceivably huge plate mail, left a smoking divot in the cobblestones underfoot, and even his magenta-lined midnight-blue cape seemed to sizzle and hiss like a bonfire under a light drizzle. The distorted air around him seemed to pulse faintly reddish, periodically, flickering skyward in streamers that peeled off from the rest like smoke.
His long hair was flaming crimson, and even wilder than Mark's, a match for the mad crimson eyes at whose corners the crow's feet hinted not at age, but at a face that had seldom worn other than a glare or scowl. Clutched in one massive hand was an equally massive sword, its blade very nearly as wide as one of Nick's arms and almost four feet in length, with crossbars that forked aggressively forward like many-pronged antlers or horns. Buckled to his opposite arm was a shield the same hue as his midnight-blue armor, the crest emblazoned upon it depicting a scene that somehow conveyed the ultimate in annihilation, though the picture itself was impossible to describe in words. Both sword and shield radiated the same aura of palpable menace as their owner, and when the sword's point scraped the cobblestones as it swayed with his steps, it effortlessly left small trenches in the street.
"Gades..." was the only word Iris whispered, and for some reason it sent a shudder through all three of her companions, though the name was unfamiliar to any of them.
Even as they watched, a trio of city guards came rushing from the direction in which the man walked, his destination out of sight of the inn's second-floor window. Even as they clanked to a stop and hefted their spears, however, their armor began to rattle as they trembled visibly.
Gades didn't even have to move. He merely stood his ground and watched with cold, silent fury, as the three men crumpled to the ground as though under the very force of his glare. Then, without so much as a gesture, another terrible wave of destructive force shook the foundations of the inn--and this time they knew, this strange destructive force was part of the aura that radiated from the giant's very body, a sheer wave of destruction that spread out from his massive frame and created another small crater under his feet.
There was nothing left of the three guardsmen, not even their conical helmets.
Mark and Nick didn't even have to exchange a glance; they were already on their way to the door, snatching up swords and shields from either side of it. Nick made for a moment as though to reach for his own armor as well, but then seemed to think better of it; there simply wasn't time. The ill-fitting armor Ramus had supplied would have to do. Thankfully, the rotund little man Mark had taken for a mere announcer had also been magnanimous--and grateful for his boosted sales--enough to supply a new shield for Mark and a chainmail shirt for Iris free of charge, as well as covering all their inn fees for the duration of their stay.
"What are you two doing?!" Rose demanded from Iris' arms, echoed surprisingly enough by the woman herself in an uncharacteristic burst of vehemence.
"Somebody's gotta try and stop him," Mark tossed over his shoulder even as he followed Nick out the door, sliding Althena's Sword briefly out of its sheath and back in to ascertain that it was clear and unobstructed. "Whoever he is, he can't be up to anything good. And we can't just let him trash Meribia!"
"Are you blind?" Iris demanded, even as she released Rose into the air to snatch up her own chainmail shirt and tug it down over her tunic, before snatching up her own cape and sword and shield and moving to follow. Rose floated in place, gawking for a moment, before hastening to flap after the three. "Didn't you see how he just decimated those helpless guardsmen?"
"Gotta try, right?" It was Nick who answered this time, adjusting his grip on his new hand-and-a-half sword. It was no Zircon Sword, but it was a good blade of similar make. Mark faintly heard Iris groan in exasperation from behind, but she continued to follow, too. Good, that might mean they had half a chance. He pushed the kernel of worry to the back of his mind, reminding himself that Iris was the most powerful warrior he had ever laid eyes on before; he had more to worry about for himself than for her.
It wasn't hard to follow Gades, even though he had moved out of sight by the time they got down the stairs and out of the inn; the screams and the plumes of smoke, and the trail of bodies, made it difficult not to know where he had gone.
"The governor's manor," Nick breathed once he had picked out the general direction of the carnage. Narrowing his eyes, he bolstered his speed, forcing Mark to push himself to keep up, while Iris actually seemed to be holding back. Why now, of all times? Did she actually...doubt she could beat him without them? That wasn't reassuring.
At the sound of their boot falls on the warm cobblestones, Gades slowly turned, his long, sweeping mantle billowing about his shoulders before it settled down again. His eyes focused on each of them in turn, almost speculative; giving them a more thorough survey than he had the city guardsmen, it seemed. His gaze lingered particularly on Iris, and Mark fought the urge to step in front of her. She could take care of herself...
"I don't know who you think you are," Mark spoke first, when it seemed nothing was forthcoming from any of his three companions, "but nothing gives you the right to...to just..." He found himself at a loss for words, unable to find broad enough terms to cover the sheer scale of such pointless, thoughtless destruction.
"Destroy everything?" the man asked in a rumbling, echoing boom of a voice, like a volcano preparing to blow its top. "Your very existence gives me the right to destroy you. Your only purpose on this world is to eke out a meager existence until I find the time in my busy schedule to destroy you." He lifted his sword up, raising it skyward in triumph, even as his fiery red eyes locked themselves onto Mark's piercing green ones. "I am Gades, Sinistral of Destruction. Tremble, boy, as you gaze upon the face of your end."
"Sinistral...?!" Rose blurted, almost startling Mark into jumping since he had nearly forgotten she was there. "You're one of those Sinistrals the old man was talking about?!"
That was why the word had seemed so familiar! Mark could scarcely believe he had forgotten, but to be honest he had pushed the old doomsayer's words out of his mind about the time the theft of Iris' ring had taken place. If what the geezer had been saying was true, this was no mere man backed by magical might, but something very close to a God. Still, he couldn't let that deter him, not at this point.
"Whoever you are, this ends now!" Nick, apparently, held similar sentiments, as he raised his sword to point imperiously at the fiery walking implement of destruction. Granted, he hadn't heard the mad old prophet's speech, but he had definitely seen the sheer scope of this Sinistral's power. "We won't allow you to go another step or harm another innocent."
"And you poor humans are going to stop me?" Gades very nearly laughed; he couldn't quite keep a sneer off his face, at least, though there was still something like a flicker of uncertainty when his eyes caught Iris' briefly. Iris, herself, said nothing, but she stepped forward and raised her sword to point as well, and Mark himself finally followed through with the Sword of Althena. At this gesture, the Sinistral's amusement returned, and he shifted from his casual posture to one of battle-readiness, hefting his shield and drawing back his sword in preparation for a swing.
"Let's go!" Mark took point as he shouted, charging forward with his own blade drawn behind him, Nick following at his side, the two leaving a gap between them as they heard Iris beginning to chant in echoing tones.
Mark's slash was met by the Sinistral's upraised shield; Nick's by the titantic sword in his other hand. The force of each impact released a small burst of destructive force, flinging both warriors back even as a bolt of searing lightning crackled through the space that had been between them, impacting against the dead center of Gades' deep blue-black breastplate. The Sinistral didn't even flinch and his armor was untouched; Iris' spell hadn't even managed to penetrate the aura of power around the battle-God's body, any more than Mark or Nick's swords had. Even Althena's Sword hadn't so much as scratched the shield's paint.
Mark was the first back on his feet, Nick using his sword as a crutch while his younger counterpart rushed in to cover for him, to prevent Gades from cutting him down unprepared. The Sinistral swung, a mighty tree-chopping horizontal motion of his sword, but his smaller opponent was off the ground before it could connect. Coming down on the flat of the blade, which was nearly as wide as a small log, Mark jogged up the length of it and even as far as Gades' forearm, lashing out with one thick-soled boot for a kick at the Sinistral's jaw.
It was like kicking one of Meribia's massive gates, and he was so shaken that before he could vault clear, he felt the painful blow of Gades' massive shield slam into his side, toppling him to the ground. He two sets of boot steps, likely both Nick and Iris, rushing forward--but before they could arrive, another wave of destructive force released itself from the Sinistral's very body.
Mark didn't even have time to scream before blackness descended upon him once again, in a distressingly familiar manner. The last thing he heard was Gades' mocking laughter, and he dimly found himself hoping Rose had managed to fly clear of that last blast before conscious thought fled him...
That he woke up at all came as the greatest shock Mark had felt in some time, after the initial fog of bleary unconsciousness burned itself off the fringes of his mind. He ached all over, as though billions of tiny Nipple Yankers and other related imps had just spend the last two days working him over from head to toe. With proportionately sized sledgehammers.
He heard the distant sound of something like liquid being wrung out of cloth, and the consequent sound of drizzling water, before something warm and damp was laid across his brow. He tried to force his eyes open, only for the force of the sudden light to lance through his head and redouble the pain there.
"Shh," a soft voice soothed, fingers leaving the cloth over his brow and moving to slip back into his hair. "You're alright. You're alive." He thought he heard a tinge of relief in that.
"Prove it," he groaned quietly, surprised he was able to make any sound at all come out past his parched throat and dry lips. This earned soft, if rueful laughter. "Nick is out taking Rose to tend to the wounded and injured, along with the other healers. He and I weren't as close to the blast as you; you got the worst of it."
For a moment, he struggled to remember just who exactly Nick and Rose were--and for that matter, who the voice over him belonged to. At last, however, the fog lifted completely from his brain with a suddenness that brought the urgency of the frantic battle back to him with full force. He tried to fling himself to sit up, and regretted it instantly, sinking back down to...whatever he was lying on...with an aching groan.
"Now perhaps you'll stay down," Iris' reproving voice admonished, before her fingers moved back to his hair.
"Wh-what happened...? Where's Gades? What about Meribia...?"
Iris' voice turned sad, then, and Mark's heart sank. "By the time we woke up, it was too late. He didn't kill...everybody...but the town's in shambles." Mark sighed, echoed by Iris herself, and resisted the urge to slam his sore fist into something. "The only things that were barely touched with Ramus' store, the Statue of Althena and the governor's manor, and those were only thanks to last-minute spells from poor, brave mages from Vane. Sadly, most of them weren't able to stand inside their own shields. I don't know why Gades left without breaking down the shields, or where he went."
"Why?" Mark asked weakly, his voice a hoarse croak. Before Iris could misinterpret, he clarified as best he could. "Why...did he do all this? What purpose did it serve? These people never did anything...Lunar's never been a warlike world..."
"Gades destroys for the sake of destroying," Iris explained in a tragically knowing tone. "The very purpose of his existence is to bring destruction to everything around him. That is the existence of a Sinistral."
"Meribia is...was...the largest city on all of Lunar," Mark whispered, almost brokenly. Losing Althena's Sword to Nick had been one thing. But this...this was a more painful blow than anything he had ever felt before. A crushing defeat that had cost not only him or even Iris, but the lives and livelihoods of countless people. Granted, the fact that the three most important structures--and one of them the most sacred--in town had been spared was small consolation. But that didn't bring back lives, or undo the damage that had been done. "If just one of these...Sinistrals...can do this..."
"Shh," she urged again, this time laying a finger to his lips. "Mark, I had hoped to finish our mission before it came to this. ...this is why I want to find the second sword, Mark. Althena's Sword and its companion...with those, we could defeat the Sinistrals. Do you understand? If you could claim the Dual Blade..."
"...Dual Blade?" he asked suddenly, sharply, forcing his eyes open in spite of the pain to seek out Iris' eyes. Defeating Gades...if anything could help him to do that, to prevent another catastrophe like this from ever happening again...
"No, nothing." She shook her head, lifting the cloth from his brow and dipping it at the bowl of water next to her again. From the looks of things, they were once again in the inn, his own room this time, but for some reason it was far too bright. A glance up from her explained that; the roof had been completely blown off, letting searing sunlight in. "Mark, please...you can't give up on me now. Please. We need that sword. If we can just get to the Blue Star and get that sword..."
For the first time since he had known her, Iris sounded almost near tears. The sound, and the sight of tiny droplets of moisture curling beneath frantic eyelids, prompted him to lift his aching hand to rest on the back of hers. "I know. I'll go." To emphasize his point, he tried to push himself up again, but it was no use. He simply couldn't move without streamers of white-hot fire following the paths of what felt like every fiber of his being, causing his own eyes to water with pain.
Gently, Iris pushed him back down, though her smile made the pain worth bearing. "Not today, Mark. There's time. Rest, first. Heal. You can't do anything in your current state but make yourself worse."
He tried to protest, but if he hadn't seen her use Magic-Guild spells he would have sworn she knew a little holy magic of Althena, for something in her touch and her voice made his eyelids suddenly feel like lead weights, his lethargy increase tenfold. Once again, peaceful sleep claimed him, this time under much more pleasant circumstances.
It was a hard few days of recuperating for everyone in town, with very few roofs left on any building in town, out of the few structures that were standing at all. Survivors of the disaster spent the time either burying and grieving the dead, or struggling to help rebuild the city, or sometimes a bit of both. Rose made rounds with the other emissaries from the great Church of Althena to heal what she could, guided by Nick, while Iris spent most of her time tending Mark with Rose out and about.
There wasn't much more Rose could do for Mark himself; she had healed all his external wounds, but the returning strength her healing powers lent was largely illusory, an immediate flood of artificial strength for the heat of battle and not true recuperation.
It was a full week before Mark felt up close to his full strength again, and while he wished nothing more than to stay and help rebuild--feeling somewhat responsible for having failed to stop Gades--but Iris reminded him rather forcibly that the best way to help them and the rest of Lunar's people was to get to the Blue Star as quickly as possible; that at their current level of strength it was painfully obvious that they couldn't even stand up to Gades, the weakest of Sinistrals, on equal terms. Mark had shuddered to learn that Gades was the weakest of the lot, of whom Iris claimed there were four. She would go into no further detail than that, however, nor explain how she knew what she did about them when nobody else on Lunar save one old prophet had ever heard of them.
Mark supposed he shouldn't have been surprised when Nick ardently refused to abandon his own decision to accompany them, and privately was rather relieved. It was self evident by now that they would be needing all the help they could get, if even Iris couldn't stand up to Gades. Even Rose no longer questioned the urgency of reaching the Blue Star, though she still wasn't entirely pleased by Iris' lack of answers.
As much as they had all chafed at the delay, though, they still tried to do what little they could before leaving--along with an almost steady migration of others, refugees who preferred to move to a potentially safer city; perhaps a place no maniacal superhumans had even heard of, or perhaps the protection of Vane itself--though at last it was Ramus himself who ushered them along on their way. He thanked them on behalf of the townsfolk, as did the also present governor, but pointed out that it was the duty of the city officials and not of civilians, no matter how dedicated and helpful, to deal with the present crisis. It was a heavy-hearted, and yet at the same time somewhat grateful quartet that set off overland by foot, bearing northeasterly toward the foreboding shadow of Taben's Peak.
Taben's Peak was a geographical oddity on the face of Lunar. It had no foothills, and rose out of a stark forest, though while it was sheathed in shrubbery and ivy, not a single tree grew on its actual surface. Odder still was the structure of the thing alone, as though someone had built an artificial mountain out of steel and armor plating and left it millennia ago to grow into a natural landmark. Whatever its origins, however, the band of travelers had no business upon its lofty green-shod steel heights, and the road passing it was clear and even unguarded. Thus, they passed without incident, making camp in its shadow as the sun set, within sight of both the distinctive peak and the outskirts of the Magic City of Vane.
Seated on a high plateau that, legend held, had once circled the skies over the Goddess Tower that had once rested scant kilometers away, the city proper was inaccessible short of flight or magical transport. However, around the base of the plateau, small-town suburbs had been constructed, begun initially by merchants taking advantage of the magic circle used for transport into the upper city and the traffic it generated.
Oddly enough, this time it was Iris who announced a layover in Vane, prompting curious glances from all three of her companions but more or less ignoring them as usual. By this point, they knew better than to argue with her or ask questions--and besides, she was already beginning to walk in that direction the next morning after they gathered up camp and set off. Exchanging wary glances, the two swordsmen and the flying feline gave a collective shrug and proceeded to follow.
The lower city was much like many of the more rural villages Mark had seen on either Lunar or the Blue Star in his life. It was a quaint little village, and all the more pleasant for the peaceful, lighthearted atmosphere after the dreary, smoldering wreck that was Meribia. There were a few refugees from the former premier city of the Silver Star, but even they seemed to have at least a significant veneer of good cheer over their sorrow and pain.
Iris seemed to have no real direction or destination as she lead them through the city, seemingly choosing streets and storefronts to stop before at random. She never let them stop long enough to really rest, nor to even get a good look at the things on display in any of the windows. It was almost as though she were looking for someone, at a series of agreed-upon meeting points.
For a moment, this seemed to be confirmed when a sharp, imperious female voice that did not belong to Iris rang clearly through the air of one of the less public locales, a miniature magic-shop storefront set in an out-of-the-way alley less than a block away from the Magic Circle. "You! So I've found you at last."
Aside from the fact that even Iris seemed somewhat startled by the sudden sound, the fact that the next words were clearly directed at Mark quite blatantly shot down that theory. "I already heard that a redheaded man is responsible for laying our neighbor city of Meribia to waste," the voice continued, in tones of infuriating superiority. "You underestimate the network of information at the Magic Guild of Vane, monster, and as representative of the Premier and Head Enforcer of Magical Law at the Magic Guild, I, Theresa Ausa, do hereby place you under arrest!"
You have to be kidding me... Mark groaned inwardly, slowly turning along with his companions to face the speaker. There was something vaguely familiar about the name "Ausa", but that fled his mind instantly the minute he laid eyes upon the speaker.
The most immediately obvious feature about her was that she wasn't human. She looked human for the most part, but subtle characteristics betrayed her. Long, high, sharply-pointed ears, a single ivory-hued hook of a horn set just above and between her eyes, and tapered stripes of subtly darker-colored skin running the soft curve from the base of her lightly-tanned jaw to just barely touch the slightly prominent cheekbones under each eye. Her eyes, themselves, were a brilliant and vibrant violet, peppered with tiny flecks of green, and her long, silky-looking curtain of hair was the same deep purple shade, cascading down the behind her back and the knee-length emerald cape she wore. She would have been truly beautiful, if not for the smug, superior smirk scrawled across her visage.
The cape billowed open in the breeze that whistled through the alleyway, exposing the clothing--such as it was--that she wore beneath it. A Single, one-piece violet-and-emerald leotard covered her from ample bosom to the base of each leg, leaving her arms, shoulders and legs largely bare. On her feet, reaching as high as the shins, she wore sleek black combat-worthy boots, and on her forearms were glossy black metal bands, each with three long ridges running the length of them along the backs of her arms. Dangling from each pointy ear was a loop surmounted with a faceted emerald, and looped around the base of her horn was a gilded ring set with four small emeralds at evenly spaced intervals. Finally, completing the ensemble was a close-fit choker of tiny gilded chain, with two lengths dangling in a V, that held a final emerald stone nestled gently into her generous cleavage.
If she wasn't dressed to kill, she was certainly dressed to tempt.
After the initial shock--and subsequent staring of the males, which required all three females present to repeatedly clear their throats for attention--the sheer absurdity of the matter reasserted itself to Mark's brain. He narrowed his eyes, and opened his mouth to speak, but a single hard look from Iris silenced him. What was this all about?
For the briefest of moments, Theresa Ausa looked briefly unsettled, as though she had been expecting an argument and had already mentally prepared her response. Upon gathering her wits, however, she cleared her throat and spoke again, revealing telltale fangs this time that served as the final indication of her beast-race heritage. "I see you have decided to accept responsibility for your actions. Know that the punishment for your crime will be heavy, but I will see that your willingness to surrender is noted and taken into acco--"
The reason she had cut off, Mark realized suddenly, was the sharp ringing of Nick's sword as it cleared his scabbard, stepping forward and unslinging his shield from his pack. Now that the ludicrous promotion was over, he wore armor of his own--still only greaves and a breastplate, but these were at least appropriately sized, and bore the signs of steady use in battle. Strangely, though she had stopped Mark, Iris showed no sign of hindering the Eight-Stroke Sword in his defiance of the apparent law.
Theresa's aspect hardened and she crossed her arms under her healthy chest as her green-flecked violet eyes narrowed with ire. "Aiding and abetting the escape of a felon will land you at least a shared sentence, if not an even worse punishment. I give you one warning to drop your sword, vagrant."
"Beat it, Mark, Iris," Nick said evenly, already limbering up his muscles and making a few preparatory passes through the air with the blade of his sword. Not wanting to make his companion's gesture a waste, but neither wishing to flee and leave the man to his own fate, Mark hesitated--but Iris stopped him, laying a hand to his shoulder and shaking her head. She also restrained him from advancing, which left him doubly baffled.
Nick had already cast the thought aside altogether, it seemed, already tensing in preparation for a fight. To Mark's surprise, instead of readying a spell, Theresa Ausa raised her own hands as though in preparation for unarmed combat--a laughable notion against an armed and armored warrior with a sword and shield. But then, abruptly, there were two triplicate hissing sounds, as of metal sliding along metal, and from the three ridges on the back of each arm bracer she wore, three long, ramrod-straight blades with wickedly hooked points sprouted.
As the two began to warily eye each other, blades held ready and boots inching with muffled scrapes across the cobblestones, Iris slowly crossed her arms and watched. Mark, still uncertain but left with little else to do, shifted his weight from foot to foot as Rose clambered down to duck into a pocket of his pack. The combatants were silent, their bodies tense and the air around them thick with potential. Then, on some signal only they could perceive, they lunged.
Steel claws raked across a steel shield, showering the cobblestones with sparks, and a swing of a sword which followed cut empty air and struck at the brick of a wall to one side, ringing loudly in the narrow alley. In these close quarters, it was plain that Theresa had the obvious advantage--but Nick was skilled, incredibly skilled, and he seemed well aware of the limitations of the environment and how to use them to his own best advantage.
"Bastard," the enforcer hissed, after the initial exchange yielded no results, and she withdrew to better gauge her opponent now that he had displayed a measure more skill than she had apparently anticipated. As she studied Nick, the blades of her claws raked against each other, casting off tiny sparks that danced across the stones underfoot. Nick, on the other hand, readjusted his grip on his shield, and readjusted his balance, wasting no words. Apparently each combatant had bitten into something more than they could chew. But it was too late for either to back down now, and Iris would tolerate neither interference nor flight.
It was an agonizing wait, before the two attacked again. This time, however, the action was so furious that Mark found himself hard-pressed to follow. He hadn't realized Nick could move so fast, though it occurred to him dimly that in the heat of battle, things always seemed to progress in slow motion. Still, the two were such a blur of color and motion he couldn't really tell precisely what was going on; they were simply too fast.
And thus, it was over almost before he knew what happened. A final clash of steel, and a cut-off bark of pain, followed by the sound and sight of an oblong blur toppling end-over-end through the air. Mark didn't realize until the sword clattered to the ground that Nick was clutching the wrist of his empty right hand, upon the back of which were three long, ragged but shallow red gashes. Theresa herself had somersaulted backward away from her opponent after her last attack, landing with a flourish of her emerald cape. She paused to wipe the bloody tips of her right set of claws on the fabric of her mantle, before retracting them into her bracers with another subdued hissing of metal sliding on metal.
"I reiterate," she said in icy tones, as Nick muttered a curse under his breath, "You are all under official arrest by the Magic Guild of Vane."
"All?" Nick turned, suddenly, glancing over his shoulder and then wincing with a groan. "I thought I told you two to beat it!"
"With conveniently no mention of me!" Rose retorted sharply, poking her head out of Mark's pack once the chaos of battle seemed to have abated. Everyone else present ignored the outburst, though Mark did shift his pack so he could offer a consoling scratch behind one ear. That mollified her only slightly.
"I demand you all surrender your weapons and come peaceably," Theresa continued, already confiscating Nick's dropped sword, and extending her empty hand toward the others. Iris nodded subtly, already unbuckling her own blade, and Mark reluctantly parted with Althena's Sword once again. Then, gesturing imperiously, Theresa pointed them all in the direction she was facing, waiting for the last of them to pass her before beginning to march behind them.
She ushered the small progression briskly through the streets, the activity in the bustling streets dispersing when civilians caught sight of her fluttering green mantle, and thus it was an unpleasantly short walk to the Magic Circle--A grand disc of bronze inscribed with a five-pointed star, set into the very ground, which served as the gateway to Upper Vane. When they stopped at the fringe, Theresa gave another imperious gesture, and one by one they stepped onto the circle until, after Mark himself stopped last, Theresa stepped on as well and crossed her arms at the wrist, beginning to chant as a wind imperceptible to the rest began to swirl her cape and long, violet hair around her body.
With a final word of power and a curt, almost irritated gesture, the world blurred around them...