New Blood
by Saber Alexander McConnell
Rated PG13

CHAPTER 26: The Nether Realm

The dark was not a problem for Rashida. She had recently discovered the ability to make her armor and her weapon glow slightly, illuminating quite well her surroundings, and making outside lighting unnecessary.

The labyrinth, on the other hand, was definitely a problem. It was an endless network of caves, with tunnels branching in all directions, many leading into dead ends or precipices or very deep, subterranean lakes. Rough, clammy walls dripped with condensation, and the spooky, hulking forms of stalagmites and stalactites loomed everywhere. There were tiny rivulets of water flowing across the ground in well-worn ruts, and natural cubbyholes were punched into the walls at all heights. It would have been a fascinating place to explore under other circumstances.

At first, Rashida had not moved around much. When lost, it was rarely a good idea to wander, because it made it all that more difficult for searchers to locate the missing person. But then she realized that it was going to be hell for anyone to get here and find her, anyway, and if she didn't want to be stuck forever, she'd best start looking for a way out.

She's searched the caves until she found a stone hard enough to make a mark when she scraped it against the walls, so she could keep track of her course, and then had begun to explore.

At first she'd actually enjoyed herself. Keeping the glow lit took almost no energy from her and her armor at all, and the caves were interesting enough that she was kept fairly entertained for a while trying to find the ways out. The only thing that kept complete enjoyment from her is worrying about the others, and what trouble they might be in.

Logic was of no use here, where the passageways were made by nature, and had neither rhyme nor reason. The only thing she could do was keep track of where she'd been, and keep an ear out for animals who might know a way out, or the rush of air that could indicate an opening in the caverns.

After a few hours, the novelty was beginning to wear off, and Rashida began to tire; she had not eaten now for a while and it was beginning to slow her down the slightest bit. She took a break to rest a little, and to drink some of the water from an underground stream. It was a bit risky, not knowing what bacteria or minerals or the like might be in it, so she didn't drink much. But getting dehydrated would be just as bad an idea, and the water seemed to sit all right with her.

When Rashida got up again, she began to notice a disturbing thing; passages that she did not recognize were marked, and she knew she had not been the one to do it. She might have thought it was a coincidence, since she'd only been leaving a single line, but when several passageways ended up marked, she began to worry. Someone was down here with her, playing games.

Feeling more urgent now, Rashida renewed her efforts, relying now on only memory to figure out where she'd already explored. When a slight noise behind her alerted her to another's presence, she stopped, turned calmly, and called in English, "Show yourself, coward!"

The boy who stepped from the shadows was a few years younger than Rashida was. She was shocked for a moment at his youth, but when she caught the cunning intelligence in his eyes, she wasn't so surprised. Young or not, she had no doubt the kid was of use to Talpa. "Coward, is it?"

Rashida switched to Urdu to reply, "Yes; skulking around behind the enemy, resorting to trickery, is cowardly."

The boy shrugged, seemingly unperturbed by her insult. "Maybe, maybe not, Rashida of Halo. I don't care much about your opinion. I do what works."

Rashida was not entirely happy that he knew her name. "So, rude one, you know my name. What's yours?"

The boy chuckled, as if amused by her question. "Cade Taylor. Warlord of Despair."

Rashida looked the boy over, cast into sharp relief by the glow of her armor, and noted his weapon was a crossbow. She'd seen him before, first at the Renaissance Faire, and later in the streets, before the Ronin had been scattered to the four winds. "Despair, is it?" she asked, her grim face showing no emotion except perhaps disdain. "I suppose you're here to destroy me, or take me prisoner?"

"Not at all," said Cade with a grin. "That's her job."

'Her?' Cade had not pointed, nor made any other indication that there was anyone else in the cavern with them, and Rashida wondered if he was bluffing when she was suddenly grabbed from behind by an incredibly strong pair of arms. She yelled furiously, her arms pinned to her sides, kicking viciously backwards at her assailant.

"Struggle all you like!" cried the woman with a laugh, fighting to keep her grip on the burly girl. "You cannot break Haazita's grasp on you!"

'Would you like to bet on that?' Rashida thought, twisting her body around and freeing one hand from Haazita's grip. She heard the boy warlord snickering as Rashida swung her freed fist awkwardly backwards, glancing off the woman's armor and doing little good. The woman gave a mighty squeeze, that managed to hurt a little even through Rashida's armor. Whoever this damned woman was, she was strong!

Haazita laughed and staggered backwards, lurching towards the nearest cave wall. Rashida realized what she was doing only a split second before Rashida collided with the wall, pinned between it and the considerable, muscular weight of the female warlord. Winded, she gasped in a breath as the woman hauled her away from the wall and slammed her into it once more.

It took a considerable amount of provocation to flare Rashida's temper, but being smashed into the wall several times was enough to do it! Rashida let out a fierce snarl, placing the palm of her free hand against her attacker's armor and giving a mighty push, breaking Haazita's grip and shoving the woman slightly off balance. Rashida did not give the woman a chance to regain her balance, drawing her nodatchi and attacking.

Haazita was not armed, but it didn't seem to matter. She was an excellent fighter, and strong, and Rashida did not gain the advantage as they fought. Rashida thrust and cut, kicked out and slashed, but never managed to get more than a glancing blow on the woman. She was a black woman, a native of Africa, from her musical accent, and one of the tallest women Rashida had ever seen. She was sheer muscle: slim, but powerful.

Rashida had all but forgotten about the boy, Cade, until something hit her in the side, sending a shooting pain all through it. Rashida yelled and staggered back, grabbing the crossbow bolt from her armor and yanking it out with a groan, her mind spinning from the psychological attack imbued into the weapon. She ducked Haazita's flying kick, and dashed into a nearby cave, sudden anguish coming over her heart as she retreated. 'Warlord of Despair,' she thought, appalled as she felt tears sting her eyes. It didn't make any sense; there was nothing here to cause her such sadness, and yet there it was, cutting as deep as any emotional trauma. If anything, the lack of a reason made it more frightening.

Rashida heard sounds of pursuit from behind her, and looked ahead, wiping her eyes and committing to memory the layout of the little cavern. Then she banished her armor and ran. She could stay and fight, and might even win, but she knew it was wise in this case to retreat and to find someplace where she could recollect her wits and shake off the melancholy pall of the young warlord's magic.

Her feet bare, clad only in the clothing she'd worn to Tarun's Kabaddi game, Rashida ran quickly across the stone, making as little noise as possible. She glanced off a stalagmite, cursed mentally, and sprawled on the stone, ducking behind the offending stalagmite to listen for sign of her pursuers. She heard the boy saying something quietly to Haazita, and tried to predict what action they'd take.

'All right. They know I'm here somewhere, but will expect me to flee or perhaps hide in ambush. They will not have expected me to take of my armor, and leave myself so vulnerable.' It was a risk, she knew that, but there was no way she could possible go undetected with the heavy metal boots that came with her armor gear. She suddenly felt as if she was in a giant game of chess.

A faint glow shone from the other side of the cavern, and Rashida realized the two warlords had a light source with them, and turned on. Well then, that only meant she would have to stick to the shadows, and she would be able to easily locate her enemies. Moving stealthily, keeping her eye on the glow that indicated the warlords' position, Rashida began to edge towards the exit of the cave. For now, she was going to have to forget escaping the caverns; in fact getting herself more lost within its depths would hopefully throw Haazita and Cade off of her trail! Yes, she would do that. She could find her way out after she'd lost them.

Rashida moved silently, crouching behind rocks and stalagmites, working her way closer to the warlords, who seemed to be discussing tactics, and who blocked her way out. She would have to pass them to flee. 'They think I'm still hiding in here,' Rashida thought in satisfaction and she began to slide right past them, little more than a yard away, smiling in satisfaction as neither heard her silent movements.

When she was past, Rashida let out a quiet sigh of relief, and hurried away from the cave, moving quickly, but not out and out running. She had to feel her way along and still maintain some speed, which took much of her concentration, and she didn't dare armor up to use her light source. Not until she'd gotten more distance from her enemies.

What followed from that point was a long, infuriating game of cat and mouse. Cade realized more quickly than Rashida liked that he'd been fooled, giving Rashida far less time to get away. She evaded them, sometimes with her armor on, sometimes not, staying one step ahead of them only by the barest amount. They were both clever, and the boy seemed to possess a cunning far surpassing any Rashida had ever encountered. It was a battle of wits, more than muscle; Rashida admitted to herself she was enjoying the mental battle a little bit, but her physical energy was waning quickly and she worried about her friends. Who knew what trouble they might be in?

The game ended abruptly a good time later. Cade and Haazita were close behind, deep within the labyrinth, and Rashida had just about decided she would have to make her stand here, when suddenly there was no ground beneath her foot; she stepped out onto nothing, her other leg buckling, the knee wrenching horribly as she fell.

Rashida let a scream of shock as she fell, her hand flailing for a handhold, a ledge, anything she could hold on to. She heard the warlords above exclaiming, as her hand brushed against hard stone, and she gripped for a handhold.

Her hand suddenly caught a shallow depression on the rock, and she stiffened her grip at once to stop her descent. She let a low groan as one arm suddenly took the full brunt of her weight, and a burning pain went from her shoulder to the end of her hand as she slammed against the rock. Clenching her teeth, Rashida scrambled over the rock with her other hand, seeking a second handhold, finally finding one slightly above the first. She clung there for several moments, catching her breath, and listening for what was happening above.

It was pitch dark, and she was in her street clothes, her bare hands scraped and bloodied from her desperate grab. As she forced her mind into calm, she considered summoning the riot gear, but almost immediately dismissed the matter. With her arm hurt, the extra weight might prove too much for her to bear, especially as she knew she would have to either climb up or down.

"Do you think she'd died?" asked the woman, Haazita, from far above Rashida's head.

"I don't know," said Cade. "It's too far down to see. But I think I can find a way down there through one of the other caverns I encountered a while back. If she'd dead, we can at least take her armor. Let's go."

To Rashida's relief, she heard the two warlords leave, but groaned as she realized she was going to have to climb up out of this infernal pit she'd fallen into. If the boy truly could find a path to the bottom of this pit, if it even had a bottom, Rashida could escape them by climbing up. Gritting her teeth, she sought a foothold in the rough stone.

The climb was torturous and difficult, the stone cutting into her skin and yielding only the shallowest of handholds. Several times Rashida had run out of handholds, and had to climb down and work her way sideways, hoping to find more handholds above. Her hurt shoulder throbbed the more she used it to pull her weight up, and both fingers and toes bled from the abrasive rock wall. She fought against the faintness that dizzied her from not having eaten in several long hours.

After a while, Rashida put all thought out of her head, letting her body move on its own accord, automatically feeling for places to jam her fingers or toes, and pulling herself up inch by inch. She was fortunate she'd not been wearing her armor, realizing the gauntlets and boots never would have been able to grab hold of the rock, nor fit into the tiny crevices she had to use.

When at last her reaching hand encountered nothing but air, Rashida laughed aloud, unable to keep from it. 'You're there,' she told herself, summoning the strength for one more heave upwards. 'You're there, just once more.'

Her injured arm strained, shaking, to pull her up to the top of the pit, her other hand scrabbling for purchase on the cave floor, and then she was lying on a heap, nearly laughing with exhausted relief. She sat shakily up and grasped the armor orb from her pocket, forming the riot gear around her body. Able to conjure her glow without fully armoring up, Rashida heaved herself to her feet. 'I can't allow myself to rest,' she thought, stumbling towards the end of the passage way, her path lit once more. She had no idea how long it would take the warlords to find the pit, and to realize Rashida had escaped it.

Falling had been a mixed blessing. It had both exhausted and injured Rashida, but it had thrown her enemies off her trail, giving her the time she needed to figure out the passages of the labyrinthine caves. When she finally caught sight of daylight streaming onto the stone walls and the dirt floor, she let a laugh of elation, stumbling into the sun. She immediately turned her face to the sun, feeling its light invigorating her, sending a surge of energy through her body. She ached in every bone, but felt a hundred times better than she had an hour before.

'Now I must find out where I am,' she thought, taking in her surroundings. There were trees and bushes, dirt and stone, but no signs of civilization. But at least several of the trees bore fruit—apples of some kind. Walking shakily to a tree whose fruit was within her reach, she picked one and bit into it, closing her eyes as the nourishment almost immediately settled her stomach and began to stave off the shakes. She sat down, eating two more apples before she felt strong enough again to walk. At least it was daytime out.

Letting the sun shine off her sub-armor, Rashida set off.

When night fell, Rashida had not found a way yet out of the woods, but she did not mind. Seeking out a dense little grove for shelter, she banished her sub-armor and sat in a patch of soft moss, eating two more apples for supper. She was surprised that she was not more weary, but then remembered she'd worn her sub-gear now for several hours, and walked in the sun for much of it.

What was more puzzling was the state of her hands and feet. They'd been torn up by the rock of the cave, though her fingers had been hurt worse than her tough feet. But as she sat in the moss, looking at her fingers, she was a little disoriented to realize they were not cut. In fact they weren't even scarred, only smeared with dried blood, which wiped off easily enough onto the moss. Her arm no longer hurt, either. "How?" she murmured. Could it be that her armor healed her? No one else's seemed to have healed them, only eased their weariness and aches. "The light of healing," she murmured suddenly, laughing as she leaned back against a nearby tree. She knew then she was right, and that this healing power could work on others. Amaya had said one of their armors had the ability to heal, and Rashida remembered wanting to be a doctor as a younger girl—perhaps the armor had sensed that in her!

The young Ronin closed her eyes, feeling extremely satisfied. She had escaped her pursuers, and discovered her armor's power. It would be a great help, to heal, and she couldn't wait to try it out on someone else.

---

In the Nether Realm, in the lowest levels of Talpa's palace, Tarun understood quickly what Talpa had said about suffering. He hadn't known exactly what the spirits around him were doing right at first, only that it hurt, like he'd never felt before. A deep, crippling ache, that made him feel drained and weak. It wasn't constant, else he'd have passed out long ago, but frequent enough to keep even him exhausted and miserable.

He'd tried once to run, only to find an invisible barrier around the area he'd been dropped into, and endured a vicious retaliation from the spirits for his attempt. Desperate, he'd hurled a powerful projectile with his sling, but the bubbles around the spirits protected them, and they'd retaliated once more. Tarun had not tried again.

He realized after a while that the spirits were feeding on the energy from his armor, and had banished it, leaving only the riot gear on. It helped, some...he didn't know if it was just his imagination or if it really lessened the effects, but either way it didn't seem to be as horrible when the spirits began drawing energy from him.

Tarun did not know how much time had passed, and had given up trying to stand and move around. Every time he had, the awful spirit things seemed to decide he had been allowed to gain too much strength, and drained him until he fell to his knees. He stopped after a while, and only sat in the water with his arms around his knees, occasionally wiping at his eyes and feeling disgusted with himself for getting caught. Would he be stuck here forever? Would the others be able to get him out? He was more scared than he had ever been in his life.

Hours passed, and Tarun wanted desperately to sleep, but could not lie down in the water. He'd managed once or twice to slip into a light doze, his head lying on his knees. Each time he did, though, he was wakened not long after by the spirits' torment.

Sometime the next morning, and Tarun knew it was morning because he didn't feel nearly so exhausted, something happened that both pleased and dismayed him. A pair of doors opened on the far side of the cavern, doors Tarun hadn't even noticed until then, and about a half-dozen more spirits entered, suspending something orange between them all. Tarun recognized who it was a second before the spirits dropped him
unceremoniously into the water next to Tarun.

"Demetrius!" Forgetting the spirits for just a minute, Tarun knelt down, grabbing the burly youth under the arms and trying to lift him up. Demetrius's armor was shielding him from drowning, but Tarun didn't know that. Straining as hard as he could, Tarun managed to get Demetrius's face up out of the water, half resting Demetrius on his knees. He pulled the older boy's helmet off, setting it in the water next to him, and checked to see if he was breathing. To Tarun's relief, he seemed to be breathing quite normally.

It was an incredible comfort not to be alone, and some consolation that he wasn't the only one who'd been captured. But he was afraid for both of them now, and the terrible thought occurred that others might be prisoners too, but being held elsewhere.

He tried for a few moments to wake Demetrius, but he was solidly unconscious, so Tarun just clung to him, concentrating on not letting him slip again beneath the water, and waiting unhappily for what would happen next.

It wasn't until several hours later that it happened; Demetrius had woken, and the doors were opened once more. The Japanese woman and the creepy blond warlord entered, dragging Killian's blue-clad form between them. They tossed the boy into the water before grinning at Tarun and Demetrius, and leaving the cavern.

---

Killian drifted into the realm of half-consciousness, not able to wake fully, or to open his eyes, but slowly becoming aware of his surroundings. He floated gently, submerged in something like water, but there was something very wrong with it, because it gave him no strength. Still, it was better than the desert, by far, and for the moment, that was enough.

The desert. Killian had been flung by means he couldn't yet comprehend into the worst possible place he could have ended up; a place of hot, searing sun, and endless, arid dunes of sand. No plants grew in the unforgiving ground, and the very rare wildlife was small and hostile. Killian wanted to shiver as he remembered waking up, lying on the chilly sands, his body half covered in slithering drifts. He remembered standing up and realizing his armor helmet had extended a sort of protective mask over his face, and how he'd looked around in confusion at what he saw.

He didn't know what desert it was, only that the stars were unfamiliar and more numerous than he'd ever seen, and the only life in the area seemed to be him. He saw nothing for miles and miles.

Shivering in the strange cold of a desert night Killian had begun to walk, hoping desperately to find a town, or a group of travelers, and oasis—even a mud puddle would have done. As the sun rose, the temperature soared to something Killian had never experienced before. Before it had cleared the horizon, he began to sweat, desperately wanting to take his armor off but not daring, knowing it would waste precious water. And there wasn't any to spare.

When the sun was overhead, Killian hadn't been able to walk anymore, seeking the dubious shade of a large, overhanging dune, sitting in the sand and trying to puzzle a way out of the situation. But there was no way. No way but to walk, and hope.

When sun had dipped a little, Killian made himself stand, not wanting to, but wanting to lie down and let the sands claim him even more. He'd shivered uncontrollably at the thought, of him lying still on the sands, the arid wind sweeping the sands over his body bit by bit. He wondered how many people had been killed in just such a way, and who now lay meters below the surface.

He didn't know how he'd gotten through the day, only that the only things he was aware of by the time darkness fell was how his tongue hurt like he'd injured it, of how his throat was so dry he could make no sound, and how his muscled ached horribly. It was taking more and more of his energy to simply walk.

And then the night. The night had not been much better, the temperature plunging so much that Killian wondered if he was delirious. He'd gone from sweating to shivering within three hours, which seemed to tire him out. Still, without the sun overhead, he didn't feel he was being boiled alive.

After several breaks, Killian found himself walking towards the rising sun, stopping and gazing at it in fear, the clear intuition going through his mind that he'd not survive the day. The thirst was maddening, twisting his gut and making him dizzy. The air he breathed in hurt; parched, torrid wind against his swollen throat.

And then they had shown up. The woman Killian and Nohano had fought with at the Renaissance Faire, and a man that for just a moment Killian thought was from Australia. He remembered the woman's taunts, the man's frightening armor, the fear he'd felt... Then the woman had attacked him, and Killian could barely lift his weapon.

She'd enjoyed fighting him, knowing he was in no condition to resist her. She taunted him as he struck, never quite hard enough to down him completely, never hard enough to kill him. The Englishman stayed back, some kind of blow gun in his hands, taking potshots at Killian every few minutes. Most of the shots didn't hit him, but those that found their way into the tiny chinks of Killian's armor made him shake, sent strange, unnatural energy through him, energizing his muscles when he thought he couldn't lift them any more. He didn't understand, at first, why he seemed to be helping Killian, until he realized just how much they were enjoying watching him struggle.

The woman knew then the game was over, and took her defeating blow, a strike to the head with her katana, knocking him out. He couldn't decide if he had been relieved or only scared.

Now he knew which it was; relieved. He wouldn't have been able to endure much more, and knew he'd been pushed beyond his limits as it was.

Consciousness was returning to him bit by bit. Voices, echoing in his head or through the water, came to him. The deep, persistent ache of his muscles was suddenly there, throbbing with his heartbeat. He groaned, struggling to open his eyes, both alarmed and puzzled to see that whatever he was in, it was brilliant orange, and glowed the smallest bit.

Killian winced and moved slowly to push himself up, and was startled by two pairs of hands, helping him to sit up. He looked at them as the mask slid back into his helmet, and was baffled to see Demetrius and Tarun there, looking exhausted and worried. "What--" Killian tried to say, but found he couldn't speak aloud. His throat still pricked horribly, and he looked down at the "water" in front of him.

We don't know if we can drink it, came Demetrius's mind-speak voice. We didn't dare try. I don't even know if it's water.

Killian frowned at the stuff, managing to cup a palmful of the liquid into one of his gauntlets. He closed his eyes, feeling the water, sensing what it was made of. He was no chemistry major, but somehow his armor enabled him to sense water, sense if it was poisoned or filled with bacteria, or even if something was water or not. It's water, he finally said, opening his eyes and looking at it in fascination. But infused with...energy. It's some kind of energy conductor. Dark energy. It's not safe for you two yet, but I can make it that way. He would be able to drink it, he knew that. He'd even experimented once, over some mild protesting from Nohano, putting various undesirable things into a cup of water and trying to drink it. Killian hadn't been worried. Ever since he'd cleaned that oil slick, he'd just known that tainted water would never be a threat to him.

'Of course,' he thought a moment later, fighting not to spit out the mouthful of water he'd taken, 'that does nothing about the taste.' He thought that this must be what toxic waste tasted like.

Once Killian had drunk enough to take the awful edge off his thirst, and cleaned enough of the water that his friends could quench their own thirst, Killian was able to pay attention to everything else around him. Large cavern, filled with orange, tainted water, large pillars disappearing into the ceiling of a high cavern, and a pair of doors at one end.

And then there were the spirits. Killian got a condensed version of Tarun and Demetrius's adventures up to that point, dismayed when he was told what the spirits do. He looked at Tarun, who looked more tired than Killian had ever seen him, and Demetrius was wasn't entirely perky, himself. How long have you two been here? he asked.

A few hours at least, for me, said Demetrius.

A long time. Dais got me right away.

Right away. That meant Tarun had been here at least twenty-four hours, since Killian had no clue how long he'd been out. "Gods," he whispered, wincing at the pain in his throat from speaking aloud. He put an arm around Tarun, who leaned against him, then peered up at the spirit-things that surrounded them. They're not doing it now...

No, said Demetrius. It's not constant. But frequent.

What do these bastards intend to do with us? Killian didn't want to know the answer, but he had to ask.

Tarun says he wants our armor, said Demetrius grimly. But I think that as soon as he has it, he'll kill us. Or worse.

Or worse. What a fantastic thought. Killian took a big breath

Take your armor off, said Tarun, and Killian realized they were both in their riot gear. It doesn't hurt as much when they drain you then.

Killian shivered a little bit, imagining those horrible, unwholesome creatures draining that kid's energy from him. It made him furious in fact, though he hadn't the strength to feel the fury much at the moment. It was kind of distant. Still, he took Tarun's advice and banished the main armor, breathing a sigh of relief as the weight left him and his head was uncovered. Much better.

Killian's moving around, however, seemed to have attracted the spirits' attention. He looked up in fear as they began to crowd in, tightening his grip on Tarun as the boy flinched and huddled against him, feeling Demetrius grasp his free hand. 'Oh gods, Nohano, I hope you guys can get us out of this.'

Tarun holding on to Demetrius

http/ in the desert, fighting Jin Tanaka.

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