Nothing. There wasn't a hint of the Mord'Sith that fled from the cave. A week and still nothing. Cara growled, staring into the fire. As her thoughts turned, her hand found the second agiel. The more she thought about it, the more her blood boiled. Its owner disappeared almost completely. Minutes crawled by before her thoughts cleared enough for her to register the pain from the agiel. She released it, casting her gaze east.
The moon lit the night enough that she could observe the village she spotted earlier. Tomorrow she'd look around, see if her prey passed through. It'd draw less attention if Cara went now, but something was off about the place. A number of people left as she arrived, loosely following a few men, one of which was rather tall. They didn't seem happy about it so she decided to stay far enough not to be noticed but close enough to study activities. Her money was on slavers. Currently, most of the settlement was asleep, with just one lit up building. It was odd and fueled her suspicions, but not her concern. "Just another hunt," she murmured, a smirk forming as she laid back.
A few leagues away, a Mord'Sith paced uneasily, aware that she crossed a formidable woman. A woman that wanted her blood. She rubbed her forehead and muttered curses. The old man sitting on the ground glared, though she didn't notice. Eventually, she stalked outside the cave to stare at the sky. Murmured complaints emanated from within, but she ignored them. He wasn't going anywhere.
She touched a hand to her new agiel, thinking of the one taken from her. They were tools, but as a Mord'Sith, she felt a special bond with her own. A personal instrument of pain. Of death. Power. At the thought, a rare fear filled her. Something told her the bond would be broken.
And something told her the bond would break as her own agiel ended her life.
Dawn offered nothing new to Cara. There weren't any more odd happenings in the village that she could see. She cleaned up her camp mechanically, listening for any sounds to alert her to unwanted guests. The Mord'Sith kind of wanted to kill someone to make her morning better, but it didn't seem as if the blonde would be that lucky. An irritated sigh escaped Cara as she walked toward the village, through the forest rather than down the main path. If she really thought about it and accepted the fact that humans had feelings, maybe she would've acknowledged that she was utterly alone in the world instead of unnecessarily shoving branches that weren't even in her way, focused solely on the woman she blamed for having everything taken away from her.
Upon nearing the village, Cara slowed, hard eyes sweeping over the area. A few hardy looking men walked around as if they owned the village, prompting a smirk from the woman—they could be entertaining. She always enjoyed instilling total fear in someone. Remembering business came before pleasure, her expression slipped into indifference and Cara strode into the village, looking as if she owned the place instead of the men. Looks shot her way, but she paid them no attention, quickly undermining their sense of importance. They eyed each other, waiting for someone to do something, but no one did. Each of them had the same concern, if this Mord'Sith was the one they were looking for.
A gradual silence fell when Cara entered the tavern. Her glare swept over the occupants, challenging them, and though a few people twitched as if to draw weapons, they didn't answer her challenge. The silence became hushed talk as everyone warily returned to their business. Satisfied, she stepped up to the barkeeper and tilted her head when he didn't pay her any attention.
The sound of glass shattering drew a few looks while Cara gripped the barkeeper's shirt. "I'm looking for someone that would capture everyone's attention, and you're going to tell me if you've seen her."
He held onto the counter for dear life, eyes wide, afraid to look away from the Mord'Sith. When his mouth moved without producing sound, the hand clenching his shirt gave him a firm shake. "Commanding woman, dark hair, short temper, in need of supplies?"
Heat flared in her heart, excited to continue the hunt. "Where did she go?"
"North," he sputtered, knocking over mugs as Cara shoved him away.
She strode north as soon as she exited the building, her brow furrowed. A hand rested on her personal agiel. Most of the men in the tavern were armed and the few that weren't looked horrified, more so than most. There was something deeply amiss with this village, more than average slavers. They had encampments; they didn't take over entire settlements unless someone powerful was backing them. Cara didn't care to meet that someone, she just wanted to feel the life fade from the woman that crossed her and the thought of vengeance made her walk faster. Noticing the looks she received, her hand slipped off the agiel and she checked her pace. Without any allies in unknown, dangerous territory, she could not appear weak and wouldn't stand for someone to interpret her eagerness as fear.
Ease would've flooded many as they exited the town, but not Cara. The forest held unseen dangers, both living and inanimate. She treaded lightly, listening in case someone wanted to say hello. A hand twitched to an agiel, convinced she heard something, but there was nothing. Cara's mind created the noises, feeding her desire to hunt. When it happened for the third time, she stopped with a growl, taking in her surroundings to ward off her imagination.
However, it was but a moment later that she huffed and stormed off, more aggravated than before. "What foolishness," Cara muttered, less aware than before. Stillness and peace didn't sit well with her. And strangling the life out of someone was quite appealing at the moment. A growl escaped her when it registered that she was storming through the forest and eased her step. However, there was a crunch of a stick after Cara slowed. Her brows drew together, making sure her hands didn't twitch to her agiels, but she otherwise kept walking. Whoever followed her wasn't out to kill her, at least not yet, and they were very good at trailing her. Focused, Cara could hear the footfalls of two people, minimum. Another growl escaped her. She should've been paying attention.
It didn't matter now. Cara kept her relaxed but irritated gait to ward off suspicion as she searched for an advantage. A little ways off, around a slight bend, was a cluster of large rocks under an outcropping that she wouldn't mind getting to. Cara altered her course slightly so the collection of fallen rocks seemed like her original destination. Why haven't they attacked yet?
Cara increased her pace, turning the bend, and made a sharp right, doubling back into the tree line. The action granted her the first view of her pursuers. They were both male and of a light build without much armor. One with a mace, the other with a sword at his hip. Clearing the tree line, the pair looked around, drawing their weapons. The one with the sword, apparently in charge, smacked the other's head and pointed left of the rock formation. He didn't seem to like the idea and a heated argument took place in whispers.
The leader would be less likely to give information and the other probably wasn't trusted with anything worth knowing. A smirk crossed Cara's face as he smacked his subordinate once more. Grumbling, the man finally obeyed while the leader went right.
Thankfully, he remained light of foot and proved cautious, giving the Mord'Sith a touch of entertainment in being undetected. Her hand twitched to an agiel, but she checked the action, deciding on a different approach. The man froze when he thought he heard a sound, and though he was right, it was too late. A gloved hand gripped the mace as an arm wrapped around his neck. She jerked it backward, satisfied by a wet sort of cracking noise from within his throat as his flailing slowed to a stop. Easing the man down, Cara moved to the tree line, waiting for the survivor. She felt particularly sadistic today.
He rounded the rocks, sword at the ready, and spun once in search of his opponent. It didn't seem that he cared about his fallen comrade as he cautiously knelt beside his body, looking around for the mace in some of the rocks.
Cara flung the mace, calling out, "Found it."
His head whipped around at the sound of her voice, but he was too late to move out of harm's way. The cry he gave was loud and angry as the mace buried itself in his sword arm's bicep. He tried to better his grip on the sword, but it clattered to the ground.
The man's glare prompted a smirk from her as she approached him. Cara stopped out of his reach, arms crossed, and tilted her head ever so slightly. "I must admit, you held onto it longer than I expected."
"I admit, you're not the particular bitch I was looking for," he spat, clasping his arm.
She remained the image of indifference, but wondered if the man meant her prey, the Confessor or someone else. "And which one would that be?"
He ripped the mace out of his bicep with something between a growl and a laugh. "Now why would I tell you?" The man stood, ignoring his useless arm, and awkwardly held the mace as he took a defensive stance.
Cara's eyebrow twitched.
The man eyed her, challenging her. "It's a shame you missed."
Her lips quirked into a smile that sent a look of defeat into her current prey's stance. "You don't know much about Mord'Sith, do you?" Upon receiving no
response, Cara casually stepped closer to him. "Allow me to educate you."
A desperate swing came her way, but she caught his wrist with one hand, delivering a fierce punch to his bicep with the other. His arm wracked with a spasm, causing the mace to fall. Frantically, he fell backward to kick out at the woman, using her hold on him to pull the Mord'Sith down with him. The awkward kick glanced off her side and Cara grunted slightly, more of annoyance than pain. The Mord'Sith scrambled to slam her knee into his ribcage, wrenching the captive arm around into an unnatural position. Her knee pressed against his face as she tugged on the broken arm, enjoying the whimpering sounds that escaped him all the while.
"Mord'Sith are deliberate," Cara stated. Her knee pushed his face further into the ground. "And I'm not the average Mord'Sith."
Feeling the woman release him and step away, he waited for the deathblow, enjoying the knowledge that soon he wouldn't have to fight to breathe, taste the blood in his mouth, or feel his useless arms. The only thing she hadn't destroyed was his lower body and it made him give a bloody, broken laugh that sounded more like a sob. An eternity seemed to pass. Part of him wanted to believe the bitch just left him there, but he could just feel her. For the first time in his life, he wanted to cry and it angered him more than anything he'd ever known. He gritted his teeth to keep from crying out, awkwardly rolled over, struggled into a sit. His arms hung loosely at his sides, he could hardly breathe without grimacing, but he glared at the woman for all he was worth.
Cara continued to stare for a few breaths, a mask of indifference. A twisted smile slipped onto her face while a feigned sense of surprise laced her voice. "Are you going to cry?"
Fury heated his face. He spat at her despite the pain it caused him. In a short space of time, the woman put him through a variety of emotions and states, but as her smile widened at the sight of his blood on her boot, fear chilled his veins for the first time. Before he knew what was happening, that same boot met his face. Blood spurted from his nose while his world briefly went dark. Dimly, he was aware of her saying she didn't miss.
"I wish you would've been more entertaining," Cara drawled, pulling him back into a sit. "But it seems you didn't have much fight in you. Now then, why were you following me?" When he didn't answer, she shook him slightly, not wanting him to slip into unconsciousness.
Everything. He'd tell her whatever she wanted to know if she'd just make the pain stop. There was so much blood. "Wizard," he croaked.
"What wizard?"
"In charge. Didn't know if you were the one." He didn't know anyone could feel so much pain.
Her eyebrow twitched. "Which one?"
"With other wizard." So much pain.
She scolded herself for being too eager and not interrogating him sooner. Business before pleasure. "For what?"
"Control them." Part of him wished he could've been on her side.
"Control who?" He didn't answer immediately so she gave him a firm shake.
"What," he ground out.
Irritation pitched her voice low, "Control who?"
The man shook his head and it drooped somewhat. "What," he repeated.
"Who does the wizard want to control?" Cara demanded, seeing the life fading from his eyes.
"Not," he gurgled, following with something that sounded like "him" before he stopped breathing all together.
Cara sighed and released her hold, watching him fall back. She briefly wondered if he'd lost too much blood, if his injuries were too severe for the Breath of Life.
Even if he did come back, he wouldn't survive long and she wasn't sure what to question anymore. Trying wouldn't kill her, just him. Again. And so she tried.
The man's eyes fluttered open in alarm and he gave a choked sob, hardly able to breathe. "Let… die."
She spoke quickly. "Wizard looking for someone with another wizard to control someone."
"Not… just someone," he whined.
"Then what?" His breathing was hardly noticeable. She grabbed his jaw and forced him to look at her.
He stared into angry eyes and managed, "Dark." With that, he met the Keeper for the second and final time. Green flame burned him, but it was nothing like the fire in the brutal woman's eyes, and this would be his sole comfort for all of time.
Cara stared into the dead man's clouded eyes for a few heartbeats, wanting to rip his soul to pieces. She shoved him backward with a growl of disgust. As she stalked off to the outcropping for a better vantage point, she cursed herself for putting pleasure before business. Cara knew better than that, now she with more questions than answers. Whoever chose the man to follow her obviously wanted to know where the wizard was, yet didn't know which Mord'Sith would have him. Something told her the wizard wasn't with the Mord'Sith, which it had to be because few others could subdue a wizard, of his own accord.
Her brow furrowed. Where did slavers figure into a wizard having a Mord'Sith capture another wizard so he could control the dark? Unless the man didn't mean darkness… A hot fury spread through her veins as her thoughts turned to Darken Rahl. Even now he still seemed to be around. The bastard permeated everything. She grabbed onto her agiel, dealing with the confliction she felt. Treason against the Lord Rahl, her master, the one she was sworn to, the one she dedicated her life to, going against everything she was, for the Seeker! The Mord'Sith shook her head. Cara did it for Cara, and she knew it. No sense in thinking about it.
Unanswered questions went in circles at the back of her mind, but Cara merely pressed forward. After a lot of walking and a couple of breaks, it distantly occurred to her to look for a place to camp. She didn't care for a fire during the night in case the tip to head north was actually part of a trap, though she doubted it was. The fear in the barkeeper's eyes was real. Night settled by the time Cara finished cooking her smaller, furry prey and she put out the fire. She ate in silence, pondering the day, as she looked out over the forest. If it turned out the tip was a lie, she'd beat the barkeeper to death. Maybe then she could get legitimate answers from someone in place of cryptic phrases and things that didn't concern her. As the Mord'Sith nodded to herself, she caught sight of a fire dimly lighting the night, just north of her. Cara smirked.
Rested from the night, Cara continued her hunt with quiet enthusiasm. Dawn had yet to stretch across the sky, creating a sort of serenity in the air that escaped Cara. She managed to keep at a level above the camp as she approached. Try as she might to be stealthy, her heart was pounding in her ears and it threw her off. As the epitome of a perfect Mord'Sith, Cara was disgusted with herself. But that could wait until later. So what if Cara was perhaps too excited about killing the damned woman? It was her right.
Cara drew her bow as she neared the camp, a faint smile coming to her face. After she was done here, she'd hunt the Confessor too. Arrow at the ready, Cara sighted on the form returning from deeper sections of the forest. Before she released it, dim light from the rising sun fell on her target. Cara cursed under her breath, not believing her eyes. She was looking at the damned Confessor. Commanding woman, dark hair, short temper, in need of supplies…
The Mord'Sith all but ran through the forest, back toward the village. A small part of her knew the rush didn't completely lie in finding out where her prey was, but she silenced the voice that said otherwise. It wasn't a line of thinking she cared to follow. Besides, the Confessor could be found easily, unlike her prey who could easily disappear. And so Cara ran until she was winded, continuing even then toward the village to interrogate someone.