Miriks of the Light

by Pakari Yacer

Mithrax's plans are in place, and the House of Light is set to make its debut. But before Zero Hour, the pieces must be put in place. Miriks carries one of these pieces, the sixth node. But how is she supposed to take care of two kiks and complete her assignment before the Guardian arrives? And as every Eliksni knows, Guardians have no problems killing those who get in their way.

14. Chapter 14

The healing probably took less time than it seemed to. When Miriks began to be aware of her surroundings again, she was in a different set of arms; four of them. Darxhis held her now, and she was breathing the ether of his soft tears.

"Mother, mother, you yet live? Please speak?" Tamax's voice was loud, and she could feel him tugging at her arm.

"Your mother lives, kiko," Darxhis stated softly, "I feel her breaths."

"Give her a moment to wake," came Sadaria's voice, which, while covered with a veneer of professionalism, was soft with awe. "The first touch of Light, even for humans, can be debilitating for a short time."

"You healed mother by the Great Machine?" Liriks's voice was curious.

"The… The Great Machine, yes."

"You can teach me, yes?"

"I'm afraid it doesn't work like that…"

Miriks opened two of her eyes in amusement. Liriks, seeking to the end.

Darxhis blinked, and gestured to Tamax and Liriks with a lower limb. "She's awake." Liriks scampered over from where she had been questioning the Warlock. The other two Guardians were still there, a small distance away, keeping roughly the same distance as the bravest of Eliksni. Darxhis, with some reluctance, set her down to let her kiks get a closer look.

"Mother!"

Miriks sat up and was summarily tackled by two small bodies. She laughed and held them close. "Vel, my beloved ones."

Tamax backed away, eyes wide. "I tried to keep Liriks safe and away, but she tripped me and ran back!"

Liriks nuzzled closer to her, and Miriks closed two eyes to him. "You tried, kiko. Remember whose daughter she is, I do not blame you."

He nodded, uncertain.

Hesitant footsteps approached, and Miriks turned to see Canikos and Sekris coming closer, wary. Sekris's hand was near the butt of her revolver, and Canikos rested his hand on the hilt of his right sword. They were bedraggled, and Sekris bled from a light wound on her head, but they seemed in fair health otherwise. Miriks beckoned to them.

They neared them and knelt beside her. "Miriks…" It seemed the scarred Eliksa did not know where to begin. Miriks gently pushed Liriks away and showed them the bloodstained hole in her clothing where the bullet had pierced her, and the unmarked chitin-skin beneath it. Sekris put a hand to her mouth, and Canikos gasped aloud. "

It's true…" he said slowly. "The Light healed you…"

"Eia," Miriks replied simply.

"How did it feel, mother?" Liriks asked. Darxhis and the others leaned closer.

Miriks looked down, touching the place where her wound had been. "At first it felt like power, rushing through me, enlightening every part. After that, it felt like purpose, like direction…" She looked up, realizing the last time she had felt that. "Like my days with my father and mother." Slow nods around. "And I still feel it." Miriks clenched her fist in determination. "We are not done. We still have much work to do. She looked to the Warlock. "And it was Sadaria who healed me."

The two Eliksni turned and regarded the Guardian for a moment. Sadaria had since replaced her helm. Sekris stood and faced the Guardian. "I am Sekris."

"I am Sadaria."

A pause, and the Guardian's companions approached. "I am glad your weapon is at your side," Sekris finally said, an edge to her voice.

The Guardian did not reply.

Canikos stood hurriedly, and stepped forward, keeping his hands clear of weapon hilts. "I am Canikos, and she means to say; thank you for healing our friend." He bowed slightly and held out a hand in fellowship.

The Warlock looked at it. She sighed a deep breath, and took it, clasping Canikos's forearm. "It was… a unique pleasure. This is the greatest amount of civil Eliksni I have ever seen in one place, I will say that outright." She released her grasp, and the other Guardians moved beside her. Miriks stood up, Darxhis and the kiks with her, and they moved to stand beside Sekris and Canikos.

Six Eliksni met the gazes of three Guardians, and there was a silence between them that was incredibly thick. "I suppose we should have waited on our introductions, dear one, yes?" Canikos muttered. Sekris made no indication she had heard him.

Miriks stepped forward. "Guardians, have you looked further at the nodes? While I do desire to know more of you, and begin this path of trust, there is an urgency to Misraak's mission."

"Yes, of course, you're right," said the Titan, the Ghost-being continuing to translate. "It gave us a set of coordinates, leading to a location that we know well. Do you know anything of what it means?"

"Only that Misraaks needs your help. The enemies of both humanity and the House of Light are moving, and Misraaks needs all the help he can get at this time."

The Titan nodded. "All right." He turned to the Hunter. [Tiana, I will stay and see if I can help these Eliksni. You were the one called by Mithrax, you should go to the Farm as quickly as possible. Sadaria, it's your choice.]

[I will wait to see what is required of us. I am intrigued at this current situation.]

The Hunter nodded, and turned to leave. She stopped, and looked to Miriks. "Are you all of the House of Light?"

Miriks shook her head. "No, just I and my kiks."

The Hunter was silent. She turned, and shook her head slightly. "I'm sorry. Being allies with Eliksni will take some getting used to."

Miriks bowed to her. "I understand, and forgive you. Fare well with Misraaks. Serve the Machine well."

The Hunter nodded, and turned again. She broke into a run, then ascended to the higher level with a series of bouncing jumps. After the sound of her footsteps had faded, another sound made itself known. The scraping of metal, and the clattering of stones.

The group turned just in time to see Captain Naksar twisting himself free of Kaltis's pin. The large Eliksni fell to the ground with a crash, landing on his feet. He picked up his fallen weapons and rose, eyes narrowed, empty fingers stretched into claws.

"He's going to be a problem, isn't he," Sadaria said, sliding a new magazine into her rifle.

Miriks nodded.

Kaltis hovered away, still eyeing the Captain as if contemplating another attack. Then Naksar spoke. "Darxhis, if your Servitor comes at me again, it will not survive, regardless of Archon law."

Darxhis called out to Kaltis, and the Servitor responded with a low rumble, flying over to the small group. The Captain reached the lines of Eliksni that had remained -the noncombatants had successfully evacuated- and regarded them with his narrowed gaze. One by one, even those that had made as if to follow Canikos and Sekris, all bowed to him.

Beside her, Canikos touched the hilt of his blade. Sekris hissed at him, but Canikos seemed not to listen. Liriks hid behind her mother's cloak, but Tamax watched with narrowed eyes. Miriks turned to the Titan. "You and Sadaria should back away. What happens will be for the Eliksni to decide."

"What if he attacks?" asked the Titan, voice low.

"Then you may defend. But I must try to help the Drain." The Guardians heeded her words, retreating to watch along the wall.

Upon witnessing the submission of his warriors, Naksar turned his attention to them. He stalked forward, swords in hand, and he was followed by those of the Drain. He stopped a short distance away, then lifted his sword. Naksar's voice, vibrating with contained rage, rang through the cavern. "I first address the traitors to my house! To the warriors; you will only be punished with a docking. But as for the machinist-" His eyes burned in the dim light. "He who I trusted, as a Kell trusts his Archon; you will also be docked, and will never see the light of day again. This is my mercy, and my proclamation. Accept it, or receive harsher punishment." He paused, to let the threats sink in. "And as for Miriks, the flesh-lover who sought to destroy everything I've wrought from this ruined planet, I say this;" His gaze met hers across the gap, and she met it eye for eye. "Leave my sight this instant, or accept that your kiks will be orphaned and cast to the Cabal to be crushed under their heels."

The silence after stretched on, whispers of that threat lingering, and Miriks took a deep breath, pondering how she could communicate to everyone that they should make a break for it without being noticed.

Then Canikos stepped forward, drawing his twin swords with a flourish. He opened his mouth and shouted in the harshest of challenge-tones, "I, Canikos of the House of Stone, defend the honor of my Kell!" He pointed one blade at Naksar. "I challenge you, Naksar of Dusk, not only for Kell Miriks's honor, but also for the freedom of my wife and Darxhis of Dusk from your Captainship."

Miriks turned to look at him, eyes wide, and Sekris simply let her head drop into her hand.

The Captain took too long to reply for the shock, and in its wake Eliksni spoke wildly back and forth, hopeful whispers of the return of the House of Stone, the severity of the response, and the much more likely possibility of Canikos's insanity all featuring prominently. Naksar regained control of himself and shouted to get everything under control, but some, led by an Eliksni Miriks recognized as Paxhis, had already departed the lines to find the Houseweb terminal.

"That dreg is no Kell!" Naksar bellowed. "How dare you mock the title and its honored House by associating it with something like her!?"

Canikos did not reply, and the Eliksni did not stop their searching.

Miriks, for her part, clutched at the Marauder's arm. "What are you doing?!" she cried, fear coursing through her.

Sekris punched Canikos with all her strength, staggering him. "You ethersick idiot! He will destroy you, and then us!"

"Miriks, remember when you said that you sought Light for all Eliksni?" Miriks nodded dumbly, head spinning too much for her to actually recall such a conversation, but it did sound like something she'd said. "This is the only way for we of the Drain to get this chance, Miriks."

Sekris growled, "What are you talking about, that makes no sense!"

Darxhis took her arm. "No, it does make sense, I see where he's coming from." All in the group turned to him in confusion, even Canikos. He tried to explain quickly, hands waving. "If we try to follow you, Naksar will not let us go. So, the only way to follow the House of Light at this time and escape Naksar's wrath would be to use the strength of the Guardians, which would defeat the purpose of Miriks's cause in the first place, which is unification and peace between humans and Eliksni, yes? So a duel of honor between two is the only way." He paused, considering. "The only flaw in this plan… well... is that he has to win."

A shout of the purest shock came from the Eliksni lines. Naksar roared for silence, and Paxhis stood atop a crate to gain vantage over the whole of the Eliksni. Peace was achieved, and he cleared his throat, eyes wide. "While Chelchis, He Who Stood Before the Maw, his wife, and five oldest sons have both been confirmed dead at the hands of Oryx for many years;" a pause, "the remains of his youngest daughter were never found. Her name was," He paused again, very much for dramatic affect, "Miriks, daughter Chelchis and Yiriks."

Chaos was immediate and complete. Under the uproar of curiosity and confusion, Miriks's head spun. Canikos… had used her. He had denied Miriks's own denial of her lineage, using her potential Kellship as an opportunity to save them all. She held a position of power, no matter how much she didn't want it, and now it seemed it would be used regardless of her choice. She looked on as Canikos tightened his grip on his blades, preparing to fight. "If I fall, Sekris, get Miriks and her kiks out of here. Darxhis too, if you can."

"Don't be a fool, I'm not leaving you," she snapped back.

"I don't want you to die with me, beloved!" he shouted. Sekris narrowed her eyes, and he shook his head and took a breath to focus himself. "But I won't argue, Machine knows that won't get me anywhere." He looked to the smaller Eliksni. "Darxhis, it's up to you, then."

The machinist nodded, setting his mandibles in determination.

Naksar gave up on trying to silence his troops and stalked forward, blades ready at his sides. "Face me then, follower of a weak Kell who deserves not her title! Dusk will swallow you!"

Canikos squared his shoulders and advanced.

Miriks held her head in her hands. Canikos's plan was foolish, reckless, and likely to fail. But it was brave. And Miriks found, to her surprise, that it was the correct path of action. She looked up. There was only one problem.

Naksar was right; she didn't deserve the title of Kell. But that didn't mean it was too late to earn it. And here, now, she could make up for her previous mistakes. Miriks acted before she could stop herself. She knelt and pulled her kiks close for a moment. She met their eyes. "Do you both remember the stories I told you about your grandfather, and his bravery?" They nodded, Tamax enthusiastic. They didn't entirely understand all that was happening, but one day, maybe, they could, and forgive her. "It's my turn to be brave as he was, to give you both a future just as he tried to give us ours." Darxhis heard her words, and his eyes widened. She ignored him. "If I fall, be brave. Trust the Light." Then she stood, and walked to Canikos.

"Warrior of Stone!" she shouted, recalling the authority in her father's voice and seeking to replicate it. "Stand down." Canikos turned to her, surprise on his face. Naksar watched, ready. "This is not your battle, but mine." She allowed Naksar a glance. "The Captain is right; I am unworthy. So, I will face him, and take his authority myself." She held out a hand. "Lend me your blade."

Canikos blinked, "But, my Kell…"

"Peace."

"You cannot possibly-"

"Warrior!" she shouted. "Your Kell orders you."

He bowed and handed her his sword. She hefted it; it was heavier than she was used to. She drew a shock dagger and deactivated its arc energy. She spoke softer. "Go. Your plan, it is the same if I fall. Keep my kiks safe."

"Yes, my Kell." Canikos's words were run through with concern, but laced with something surprisingly like awe. He returned to his wife's side.

Miriks turned and faced Naksar, who had been waiting, and tried to hide her fear.

"At least you have the honor to face me yourself, small Kell". Naksar said with a fanged scowl, allowing her a nod. Then he began to unfasten his cloak with his free hands. The Captain set his swords down to shuck his greaves and bracers off, then let his chestplate fall with a crash, ignoring the protests of his lieutenants. He stepped out of his fallen armor, bare-chested, torso plates broad with muscle. "Falkis!" he called behind him. "Bind my hands."

"But sir, why-" the large Vandal said, eyes wide.

"Do you not know the proper way?" Naksar demanded. "My challenger comes before me without armor or a second pair of limbs. Fairness is demanded. Follow your orders."

Silently, the lieutenant nodded and bound Naksar's lower arms behind his back. Then Naksar picked up his blades again, turning the arc power on, then off again. Miriks was impressed with his dedication to the traditions, and was more than a little relieved at not having to try and get through that thick armor with her small blades.

"What are your terms of combat, O Kell," Naksar said, the title grating off his tongue.

"To death or surrender. If I lose, you may take whatever punishment you wish upon me. The warriors also. Leave my kiks alive, and set them free."

"And if you win?" His voice made it clear that it seemed very much an impossibility. She did not blame him.

"I will take your Captainship. You personally, however, will not be required to follow me. Agreement to those terms?"

His gaze didn't leave hers. "Your new friends," he spat the word, "will not interfere?"

Miriks nodded.

"Then, agreement."

"Combatants!" called Falkis, his clear voice ringing through the chamber, "ready yourselves!"

Naksar, a Captain of Dusk, took up a general challenge stance, ready to rush forward instantly.

Miriks, the untested Kell of Stone, took up the stance she had been taught those decades ago; larger blade reaching up to her opponent, the smaller dagger held above her head.

"Begin!"

Naksar charged.

Miriks gritted her teeth and held firm, trusting in the instructions of her father and brothers. She had been trained by them for half her life, and they were as clear to her as the day she had finally understood them. Especially those instructions on how to fight larger opponents.

Naksar slashed down with a roar, and Miriks brought up her larger blade. With the speed of a skiff between stars, Miriks deflected the mighty blow to the side. Sent off-balance, Naksar stumbled past. He shoved himself around, his other blade cutting the air where he thought she would counter-attack. But she wasn't there. Miriks regarded him from her initial position, her feet barely moved from where she had planted them.

Naksar wasted no time and swept back, legs pounding the bare rock, and with a swing of terrible power, moved to cut her in half. Miriks bent her knees smoothly, bringing both blades up to meet the horizontal strike. She twisted under the force of the blow, the keening metal sending sparks onto her chest and clenched eyes as the clashing blades passing just above her head. At the last moment she threw strength into her heavier sword, again upsetting the momentum of the larger fighter.

Naksar spun, teeth gritting. Again, she hadn't moved her position. He growled, "You mock me?"

Miriks adjusted her stance to face him. "It is a stance of Stone. I do not mock one who could kill me in one blow." She narrowed two eyes. "If that blow can be landed, that is."

Naksar surged forward again, this time swinging both blades; one at her head and the other at her feet. This time Miriks danced backwards, neatly avoiding the strikes, but Naksar was expecting that. His second cut was swift, but Miriks suddenly closed the gap between them, within his reach. Before he could do more than widen his eyes, her dagger bit his side twice. He roared in pain and surprise and kicked out at Miriks, who tumbled away, cleanly dodging the pursuing strikes. A murmur of appreciative surprise from the watching audience; the smaller opponent had drawn first blood.

Naksar swore under his breath, gauging his wounds with a critical eye. They were deep, but not crippling. Miriks got to her feet and kept moving, knowing that her initial advantage had been lost. Naksar began to circle with her, in a lower stance, much like a Wolf would, and Miriks realized that very well could be his former house. Misraaks was also originally from Wolves.

They rounded the edge of their improvised dueling ground, and Miriks noted in the back of her mind the positions of stairs, obstacles, places she could go to counter and avoid whatever strategies Naksar was making.

This time, he was wise, and stalked towards her deliberately. She readied herself, ignoring the ache in her muscles at holding the stance. She remembered and had once mastered them, yes, but that did not mean she was a dedicated warrior.

Not like the Captain. Naksar lunged, his blade aimed for her heart. Miriks parried briskly, then jumped back as the other blade whistled towards her head. Instead of retreating, however, she advanced, trying to surprise him. He narrowed all eyes and batted her thrust aside, then lifted his foot and kicked out to drive her back. She abandoned her push and backed away.

"You have more skill than I expected, small Kell," Naksar stated. "They told me how you defeated Salix easily, and I wasn't sure how much I believed of it." He struck, and they exchanged a flurry of blows, each one closer to hitting the other than the last. Miriks was forced to retreat again under the Captain's heavy strikes, and Naksar continued. "Not only skilled with combat, but in other ways as well. What did you promise my machinist for him to betray me? Your love? And my warriors, what did they see in you, a dreg, to warrant following?"

"I was seeking the Light," Miriks replied, taking controlled breaths, forcing herself not to snap her replies. "They decided to follow me. I promised them nothing, save the blessings the Light could give."

"The Light?" Naksar barked a sour laugh, and slashed forth once again. "You are a fool following her foolish dream, or else a liar!" He punctuated every other word with a strike, and Miriks struggled not to catch the blows directly in a block; she had not the strength to directly counter him.

She struck at his legs, forcing him to back away, and then she replied. "And I promised them those blessings, because I had found them myself," Miriks declared, ignoring his words.

"And what are those, yes? Glory beyond measure? The finest ships and weapons, with a lifetime of ether?" All his eyes narrowed. "Eternal life, and the power and favor of the Machine?"

Miriks knew not to reply to the jibe, she would not be a fool, to hope so great as that. "Peace. Direction. A path to follow, unbound by the corrupted traditions of the past." Miriks stepped forward, but did not move to attack. "And did you not see? The Light of the Guardians saved me from death! Together, think of what we could do, what the Eliksni could be again!"

Naksar shook his head. "You have faith in the humans? You are a fool; we will only ever be seen as dregs already under their feet, and they will never be anything other than god-thieves. And as for your Light," he spat the word. "A trick, nothing more." With that, he rushed forward, blades held low. He swung down at her, and Miriks dodged the blow and counter-struck at his leg. The tip of the sword pierced him, yet to her fear he continued to advance.

Before she could draw back or use her dagger, his fist knocked her to the ground in a back-handed blow. With a roar of triumph, he stabbed down to where she was, and Miriks frantically rolled out of the way. She scrambled a ways and then got to her feet, trying to clear her head from the blow. So dazed was she, that she barely had time to register as both of the Captain's blades swung towards her. A frantic block, a jarring impact, and suddenly Miriks was flying.

She crashed into the side of a shelter, breaking through the rough wood and cloth to tumble into someone's hastily-exited bedroll. Miriks tried to shake off the pain, but as she rose, she noted that her left leg had been damaged in the impact. Her instincts suddenly flared and she froze just as the point of a massive sword broke through the wall beside where she was standing.

Naksar roared and the small shelter collapsed under the strength of his blows. Miriks exited as a cloud of dust rose from the destruction, and she realized with a burst of inspiration that he didn't know where she was. "Naksar!" she shouted, limping quickly through the small maze of shelters and supplies. "What would you do for a purpose?"

"I already have one, you slippery female, now face me!" She could see his tall form, rampaging through the Drain's collection of structures, searching. Another growl, then came, "Why?" It took Miriks a moment to realize that Naksar was asking her. "Why are you doing this?" Her initial thought was that he was trying to flush her out by asking questions. Then she realized that his cry was sincere; the Captain's anger was manifesting as questions. She decided to respond in kind.

"Naksar! What would you do to give peace to your people? To have no fear that their kiks will be hunted the rest of their days, living a half-life of sorrow and survival?" He did not answer, only growled, his frustration at not locating her and his own unwillingness to answer driving him to rage once again. She looked around and saw, strapped to the ceiling above her, a hanging net of materials salvaged from broken hulls and buildings. She stopped moving and called again, "Naksar, listen to me! That is what I'm fighting for, that is why Darxhis, Canikos and Sekris follow me! They want a future!"

He caught sight of her and his eyes narrowed, burning with a renewed drive. Miriks judged his speed, backed several paces, then faced him, blades ready. "That is why. I told the truth; I did not mean to involve your people in this conflict." She raised her sword, leaning on her good leg. "But fate did not give me a choice. But you, you do have this choice."

He shouted a wordless cry, unwilling to answer her. There was no other course. Miriks looked up, activated the dagger's arc energy, then threw it. It sliced through the supporting cord like it was twine. The mass of metal tumbled free.

Naksar broke his bonds and raised all four arms to take the full brunt of the falling debris, solid beams of metal and shells of interstellar vehicles falling around him like so much iron rain. The debris settled and more dust rose. And then Miriks saw, with a growing sense of dread, the unfallen figure of Naksar still standing within it.

He opened his eyes, blue flaring in the rising dust cloud, and stepped over the rubble. The Captain of Dusk took deep breaths, and Miriks could see signs of damage all over him; cracks where chitin plates had been broken, discoloration where the flesh beneath was bruised, but still he stood tall. One of his swords had been lost in the pile, and he almost stumbled upon his second step, but he raised the other blade to her. "Small Kell, that is not what I meant." He rushed forward.

Miriks bared her teeth, brought both hands on the haft of her sword, and met his charge with her own. His first strike would have left her in pieces, but she went to ground and slid between his legs, her sword drawing a line of blue blood on the inside of his thigh. He gave no reaction to the wound and did not stop his momentum, instead using it to slam into the nearest structure, shattering it. She turned just in time to duck under a piece of stone the size of her torso. Miriks gave him no pause and ran back, her blade flicking out to strike as his arm, but he was prepared. Naksar accepted the blow, more of his blood staining the ground, and used her lunge to grab her arm in a fierce grip.

Panic coursed through her, but Instead of ripping the limb off or throwing her across the Drain, Naksar instead pulled her closer to him. He bared his teeth. "Of course I desire those things. Do you mock me with simple questions? Why do you think I built this place!?" He gestured with a lower arm at the Drain. "The old Kells and Archons and their talk of regaining the Machine, of taking back what we had lost to humanity, none of that had ever meant anything to me!"

The Captain shoved her backwards, sending her tumbling. Miriks rose as quickly as she could, but Naksar hadn't moved to capitalize on her weakness.

He took a step closer. "Your father was different from them. Helping the Houseless, saving lives, creating a place of peace for all who came to him, rather than living as a slavemaster." He paused, taking a deep breath, trying to hold his rage back. "I wanted to come to him, to leave those futile wars for the Machine. And then, Stone fell to the Maw, curse it!" He spat on the ground, and continued. "My Kell was killed soon after." He looked up, and met her eye for eye. "And now you come, a dreg of an Eliksa with a foolish fire in her heart, almost destroying the place I'd been making to be safe, then trying to save it?" He laughed a bitter laugh. "Then she claims to be Chelchis's daughter!"

Miriks narrowed her eyes and lowered her stance. What did this all mean? Was he actually considering what she was trying to say?

Miriks narrowed her eyes and lowered her stance. What did this all mean? Was he actually considering what she was trying to say?

Naksar straightened, eyes narrowing, determination filling every fiber of his battered frame."Your words, your Light, they mean nothing to me, Miriks of Stone." Naksar raised his sword high and roared his final challenge. "You must prove to me, by your actions, that you are worthy of your father's legacy!"

And Miriks realized. She narrowed two eyes, and didn't waste any more breath. With all her remaining energy, ignoring her pain, Miriks cried a return to his challenge and charged.

And Naksar laughed. "YES!" He raised his sword and met her.

Her uppercut forced him back a step, and she did not let him regain it. Furiously she struck, her two-handed assault surprising the larger warrior. He again tried to kick her back, and received a new wound. Naksar swung his sword in mighty strokes, but Miriks was never where it seemed she would be, her blade pricking and deflecting, and soon Naksar was wreathed in the ether escaping from his blood.

Then he caught her blade against his. With his free hand he slapped her sword aside, and she stumbled back, off balance. He drew back his blade and lunged, and the sword sliced against her side. Miriks cried out, and desperately moved backwards, feeling new blood run between her fingers. His following punch slammed into her wounded side with a distinct crack. Miriks was tossed backward, sliding on the dusty rock. She tried to rise, but fell; her side was burning in agony, and her head spun from the release of ether.

"Come on, small Kell! Rise!" Naksar shouted, stalking forward, sword held low, ready to end her where she lay.

Get up!" came a distant cry, and she recognized Darxhis, his voice overshadowing two higher voices. Her kiks were calling to her. Miriks stood, chest heaving air into her lungs, and she gripped her blade again, facing him.

Naksar swung, a massive downstroke that would surely break any guard she could muster..

Miriks held her breath and remembered. Her father, speaking of Light and showing her stances. Vanox, his kind eyes and patient soul. She remembered Misraaks, his faith, his listening ears. She saw her new friends, and the one who had healed her. She remembered her kiks, the hope in her heart, for their future.

Miriks remembered Stone. She remembered darkness. And she remembered the dawn that came after.

She set her feet and angled her blade. Naksar's sword slammed into the ground beside her, and she did not falter. With one deft stroke, she cut off his hand, then slammed the pommel of her sword into the Captain's jaw. He staggered backwards. Miriks leapt off a small pile of rubble, focused all her weight and strength, and repeated the attack. Naksar was sent reeling, then, at last, he fell.

She stumbled beside him, and knelt, putting her blade to his throat. "Captain of Dusk, do you surrender your title to me? Or must I take it?" In her heart, Miriks pled that he would accept the first.

"Why did you wait?" His voice was a hoarse whisper. "Why did you choose now to reveal yourself, daughter of Stone? It would have given such hope…"

"I failed," she replied softly. He blinked at her. "I tried, and I fell, barely surviving. I've been struggling just to live and keep those I love living, for all these years until now. I know it would have given hope but then, I was weak, I was without purpose and direction, and I had no Light left in me." She took a breath. "But now," She met his gaze determinedly. "I have those things. And the Eliksni, now, need their hope. So I rose, and will try again, and again, until I succeed." She looked down at him, at the edge of her blade. "Now, what is your choice?"

He let out a series of coughs, which became a rumbling chuckle. "My seat is yours, small- my Kell. And, if it pleases you, I desire to continue my existence, even if under your command."

Somehow, she found herself closing two eyes. "It would please me." She removed her blade, and stood shakily.

Naksar rose as well, ether falling from his many wounds like small drifting rivers. He knelt before her. "Lead my people well, and you have nothing to fear from me."

Miriks took her blade and held it out to him in two hands. "Rise, Naksar, Captain of Stone." He regarded it for a long moment. Then his remaining hand took it, and he rose again. She nodded, and together they looked out over the watching Eliksni. All conversation that had sprung up hushed immediately.

Naksar called, his voice echoing through the Drain. "I show you your Kell, Miriks of Stone!" The Eliksni made their sounds of approval, many kneeling, but when Naksar lowered his arms he spoke to her again, voice as quiet as she had yet heard. "My Kell... Did the Light truly choose you?"

Miriks shook her head. "No." She stepped forward without meeting his gaze, moving to meet her kiks, who could no longer be restrained by Darxhis. "I chose it."

...
sorry for the repeated edits, I tried to place a deadline for myself for midnight last night, and this is what happened. Just know, if you were one of the first people to read it first, then its changed a bit. I apologize for that. I guess it being summer and all my writing friends being away for the summer, beta reading has been limited. Hope you enjoyed it, and there's two more chapters until the first arc is officially complete, the last one being the one I'm particularly excited to write. It involves... complications. ;)