The Runa Way
It did not happen often to Runa Fair-Shield, but at that moment she felt the distinct sensation of her jaw dropping. There she had been, minding her own business, unhurriedly riding across the Rift, when who should suddenly appear before her but the woman she had hoped to see . . . sort of.
The bastard! I'll be damned but I will deal with you now!
Last time she'd had the displeasure of seeing Loria's ugly mug, the woman had tried to kill her . . . again. And just before that Runa had been almost sure she'd actually killed Loria . . . again.
Yeah, they went back. And here they were, both still alive.
Well, I'm gonna change that once and for all!
It was usually at this point that she would say something clever to the person she was about to kill. Or, alternatively, she would skip the clever part and simply state her intention to commit the said deed. This time she wanted to try something different.
So eschewing spoken words in favor of a guttural growl, she gave Frost spurs and unsheathed her blade, charging for Loria.
What advantage Runa had had was that Loria had not in fact seen her yet, riding crosswise from her a couple stone's throws away, seemingly lost in thought. This advantage she now lost with her scream.
Perhaps not entirely thought out on her part, then. But Runa had, perhaps somewhat counterintuitively, always found her thinking not to be the clearest so soon after fucking.
Loria looked rather surprised herself. Having unwisely chosen to ride thought the Rift all by her little self, Runa could only imagine what naked terror grasped the woman the moment she got that first look of her most fierce assailant, the hairs on the back of her neck pricking up with that piercing scream tearing the air at her own demise's fast approach.
"I've got ya now, bitch!"
"Shit," was all Loria could think of, and she swiftly spurred her own horse into gallop.
"Oh no, you don't" Runa cried.
But there was no denying that the woman clearly had an eye for horses, for the damned steed she straddled could muster some mean gallop. Runa cursed bitterly as her advantage soon leaked away, her attack curbed into a chase. After a moment longer of defiantly holding up her right blade, she soon felt the weight of futility on her arm and reluctantly sheathed the weapon.
Yes, she would need to catch the woman first before she could move on to the satisfying part of hacking her to pieces.
That yowl seems like a real good idea in retrospect, don't it?
Runa growled, not bothering to argue with . . . well, herself. Not much use at any time, is it?
"What good do you think," she screamed after Loria, "it'll do to just delay the inevitable? Stop and face me like a woman!"
Loria wasted time on neither a reply nor a backwards glance and rode on. She had been headed more or less toward Riften, but now was slowly curving back around westward where she had been coming from. Not wanting to lead Runa to where she had been heading? Or leading her into an ambush.
Either could have been true, but Runa decided she had no time to think on such things. Catch the woman quick and kill her and that would solve the issue.
So, teeth gritted and head pressed down, spurring Frost with the intention that the horse knew signified that his mistress meant business, she set out to do as much.
Ariadne had spent gods knew how many hours now between desperately trying to keep a rein on her irritation and even more desperately on her restless loins—the latter problem further exacerbated by the rocking of the horse between her legs. That's just . . . wrong.
Neither effort was going terribly well, but at least she had kept herself from riding back and continuing the previous argument. Or from—gods knew what!
Distraction magic is what you need to learn, girl!
At least they had made good pace and so there was a tangible limit on how much longer she'd have to put up with this. Already in the Rift, they were getting to the point where they would need to soon catch up to Calisto. Otherwise this would have been a waste of their time.
Even the thought of that made her sour beyond belief. All this for nothing. No, she could not stand it. She would fry the sword-boy for fun if she didn't get action otherwise. What was Ariela going to do about it, throw a book at her?
She glanced over her shoulder. A hundred or so paces behind her, they were still tagging along. Still running their mouths, it seemed. At least she wasn't able to hear them.
Erik wore an easy smile while she talked. He had made peace with what he was doing. Was no longer making it complicated.
I mean, we are both adults. And nothing wrong is taking place. Innocent flirting, that's all.
After all, there was little risk this would become too serious. He might as well just enjoy the ride.
Two things astonished Ariela. First, that talking to Erik had made her feel so very relaxed and free of her usual anxiety—talking to men, particularly attractive men, usually had the exact opposite effect on her—and second, that these unexpected feelings of relaxation and serenity did not come with the inevitable price of increased worry, anxiety, and the accompanying guilt—the way they usually did.
And to top that off: she did not even feel the need to mull all this over and over in her head. She simply noted these unusual occurrences, then let them go and directed her relaxed attention back to Erik.
What's happening to me?
She did not care. She was just enjoying this while it lasted.
Not even that nagging dark voice of self-doubt which she had seemed to develop these past years had power over her now.
She smiled widely, partly at this feeling of inner strength, partly at Erik's nice face, seeming to grow nicer by the minute. "I'm sorry, can you repeat that?"
That ghost of a frown only made Erik's face more becoming. "You were not listening?"
"No," Ariela admitted softly. Paused for just a second. "I was busy admiring your eyes."
OH. MY . . .
Erik, also only looking surprised for a second, burst out laughing. "I see. Well I can't blame you!"
Ariela could distinctly feel her face reddening but cared nothing about that either. It'll only make me more beautiful, she decided.
No, this certainly was not the usual Ariela she was seeing.
She felt dizzy.
Good dizzy, she decided.
You can run, you can ride, but you won't get away from Runa Fair-Shield!
After a longish chase Runa finally caught up with her dog-faced fugitive—rare was the horse that could match ol' Frost in speed and durability—and as soon as their horses were more or less abreast, she whipped out her blade and lashed out. A well-aimed blow incised Loria's girth, snapping it and detaching the saddle. Runa then swerved Frost to the left so that his shoulder rammed into the other horse's side. With a scream, the horse bucked its rear just enough to send the saddle, and the rider on it, sliding off its back.
Loria let out a little squawk as her steed was suddenly robbed from underneath her, and then was crashing hands first toward the turf.
Runa hoped to see the bitch break her neck, but instead the woman caught the ground with her shoulder and gave a good half-dozen barrel rolls before ending up on her belly.
Without delay Runa pushed herself off the saddle, and Frost still in full speed she flew over his rump and landed nimbly on the ground, softening the hit by rolling over. Both blades ready, she dashed over. Loria had just managed to get herself upright and wobbled in place while urgently unsheathing the weapon on her back. Runa reined in her eagerness and stopped to give her a chance to ready herself. She was adamant to make this final battle between them and could not simply stab her foe while she was still dazed.
Runa Fair-Shield, after all, is renowned throughout the land for her outstanding honorability!
Loria was still picking herself off the ground when Runa was already ready to go. She let the woman prepare herself. This was going to be a fair fight.
And if she'd happened to break her neck falling off the horse, would that have been fair too?
Runa shrugged her shoulders. Fair enough.
Then, finally, the bitch was ready, with that clunky hammer almost bigger than her up like an erect cock to welcome Runa
Nearly ever say no to neither, do I?
"I hope you—" Loria started.
But Runa was not about to let her run her mouth. She leapt forward with a scream. "Fuck yourself!" is what she might have said, but she wasn't really all that sure.
Yes, this was going to be a showdown worthy of the wait. She'd let the woman go before, but now this would be the final battle between them. One for the songs, even. With a big grin—or perhaps a grimace in truth, but she felt like grinning—Runa landed her first blow, a fierce diagonal slash with her right.
Loria caught it with great trouble, her stupid mouth still hanging open from that attempted remark Runa had stolen from her.
Runa followed that up by an upwards slash of her left, and once again Loria managed to get her weapon in the way. Runa then decided to disengage by swinging the right again in a sort of sloppy arc directed at the woman's head, while surging past her, spiraling to her left.
Yes, she felt like dancing.
Runa let the momentum carry her backward a bit, then theatrically stopped herself into a half-crouch, both blades ready, one in front of her, the other hanging in the air just behind her head.
Loria was slow in turning around, but good sport that she was, Runa gave her the chance to ready herself.
After all, Runa Fair-Shield was no—
Wait, what the shit?
Loria did come around, but awkwardly. And once she finally did, there was this stupefied look on her face.
Runa narrowed her eyes on the woman's neck. Is that—? Just a little gash about her windpipe. Guess she hit better than she had even attempted. Still, that shouldn't—
And that little gash opened like the Sithis' smile with Loria's labored exhale, releasing a gush of blood. Loria lifted a trembling hand, her weapon thudding to the ground, onto the gash and then raised it in front of her. She opened her mouth and more blood dripped down the sides of her mouth.
She raised those stupefied eyes to Runa.
"B-Buh-bitch."
And then she collapsed straight ahead like the wind just ran out of her.
Runa no doubt looked no less dumbfounded. She stared at the woman's still body, not really understanding what had just happened. Expecting her opponent to get up any moment now.
Nope, not moving or nothing.
Fucking . . . dead.
Yeah, just like she'd expected. Just not so damn . . . quickly.
But no matter how hard and perplexed she stared at the corpse, it wasn't getting any more corpse-y. As dead as dead came, no way to see it differently.
Runa raised her arms, as if to argue, then lowered them. "Fuck," she said.
And then finally let out a breath of defeat—as if she'd been the one lying face-down!—and sheathed her weapons.
"Well that was disappointing," she told Loria.
She hadn't prepared for this at all. She'd expected to be all winded after her epic battle. Now she felt . . . nearly nothing. This wasn't usual. She'd have to reorient herself quick.
"What now, my friends, do my eyes see in front of me?"
Runa swung around and even without thinking about it, her blades were right out again. She frowned.
There was a young man on horseback a few strides from her, on the road from northward. Dressed in black leather, sitting very relaxedly in the saddle, and eyeing the scene with what looked like a permanent smirk.
He looked like a damned prick, in all honesty.
A rather fetching one at that, I might add.
There were some henchmen with him, a couple run-of-the-mill sword-wielders. The kind Runa knew well and had killed aplenty, the sort you read about in stories written by lazy writers just to fill up some space around important characters.
"Two go in, one comes out, eh?" the kid finally said, in a way of summary of what he was looking at.
"Mind your own business!" Runa barked without hesitation.
"Oooh." He chuckled. "Feisty."
Runa stared at him, unblinking.
The fellow squinted at the corpse. "Say, she looks sort of familiar. Pray could you turn her over just a bit?"
After a moment's hesitation, and without taking her eyes off the kid, she kicked Loria's corpse over. For a brief glance, she had to look. That expression of shock yet lingered on the woman's face; only the eyes stared vacantly into infinite nothing.
"Ahh. I think I know her. Isn't she . . . yes, yes she is, whatshername."
Runa shrugged. "She is . . . was named Loria."
"Yes, yes. That's right."
"So you know her." Which meant this fella was nothing but another scumbag. Which figured.
"I do, I do. I certainly do know Loria. And I would not hesitate to name her a friend."
I bet. Runa snorted. Shrugged. Spat. "And how do you plan to go about it?"
The amused youth squinted at Runa. "Aren't you Runa Fair-Shield?"
"Indeed, in person. So you've heard of me."
"Certainly. A somewhat famed fighter, on her way out."
Runa snorted. "I ain't going anywhere . . . boy." To her surprise, she thought she even saw a flash of anger in the kid's eyes.
Yet he smirked on. "So you say."
"So I say." Runa spat again. "So. Your 'friend' is dead. What are you gonna do about it?"
The kid let that question hang in the air. "Well," he then said in a drawl. "I would not be much of a friend if I let her death go unretaliated, now would I?"
"No." Runa worked her mouth. "I suppose you wouldn't, at that."
And it was confirmed. Just another fool looking for trouble. Well, that was no problem. Runa still had plenty of fight left in her for the day. She raised her blades again and gave the kid the hard eye.
The pretty fool only smirked, like she'd made a slightly amusing joke.
Yeah, he really was rather easy on the eye, even with—or perhaps especially with—that arrogant simper.
Was he lookin' for the fun kinda trouble, why, I'd be glad to lend my helping hand.
Runa spat, irritated. Rather at her own erratic loins than at the situation itself.
No, she'd have no trouble with some additional violence to kick off her day, what with the anticlimactic ending to a well-started chase and all.
She scowled down at Loria's corpse. Such a letdown, in the end.
Runa raised her blades more to show that she was ready to welcome him. The absence of any weapon of his was notable, as was the absence of any intention on his part to get off that damned horse. The whole thing gave her a nasty foreboding, to be honest.
The kid looked at her weapons. Sort of pityingly. Then he lazily waved at his henchmen, and they dismounted around him.
Like every henchman in their position, the two fellows wore self-assured grins. Yes, this won't take long, the grin said. Runa wiped such grins off for a pastime!
The thugs charged as one. Runa stood her ground, until they were close.
There was just enough gap in between the two, and their weapons—a two-hand sword and a battle axe—hung in the air just clumsily enough. Predictably, they intended to swing at her from their left and right, leaving the middle unattended. So once those swings started, more or less simultaneously, Runa exploded forward.
Self-assuredness melted into surprise formed into shock, and then turned into pain as Runa stabbed them both in the gut. She slunk out from between them, twisting the men around as the blades came out. Then the thugs fell. Before they could finish that, she swung around and slit first the throat of one and then the other.
The disposables—disposed of.
There was no shock to be found on the kid's countenance about what had happened, once Runa turned to face him again.
He rolled his eyes with a sigh. "If you want it done right . . . "
Then he finally got off his horse with exaggerated nonchalance, paused to ostentatiously dust off his dustless clothes. "I won't lie to you, Runa. I've heard it that Maven wants you. And not only her, mind you. You've been a busy lass, angering the wrong people. I've a feeling putting you to the ground is going win me friends in high places. Insofar as I'm going to be needing them."
"Isn't that nice," Runa said. "You've got some obstacles in your way still, though."
He smirked. "Indeed." Then opened his arms out wide. "Come at me, old girl."
Without hesitation, Runa cried and sprang into motion. Wasn't exactly the first time she had the distinct feeling of being about to run headlong off a cliff.
Meanwhile, the kid showed no intention of doing anything about the assault, arms still out wide in welcome. No, that was probably not a good sign either. On the other hand, it was always remotely possible that he was suicidal and—
Just a lurch away and he thrust those arms straight ahead of him.
Nothing quite made sense for the following second or two, as the air itself suddenly seemed to punch into Runa like a solid wall, and the world around her was going every which way except the way it should have. She vaguely understood being airborne, just before she no longer was and then it was the good old undisputable ground which slammed into her.
This whole thing suddenly felt awfully familiar.
While a good part of her, after she was no longer moving save for her spinning head, wanted to take this moment to rest and reflect on just what in the name of Oblivion had just taken place, the part of her rinsed in the waters of nearly getting herself killed many enough times was wise enough to send her ass right off the ground. The world was still spinning in most disagreeable ways, but she was assured that staying alive was a great deal more important than inhabiting a perfectly still word.
She lurched into the first direction she was able, hoping it was one of those directions out of harm's way instead of in it. Not a second too soon, either, as she felt a fire warming her rear even as she flew through the air—propelled by her own bodily strength this time.
There was an explosion, and as soon as she was on the ground she crawled on her forearms and knees to get farther away.
Even if she was pretty sure that this was indeed where she would meet her end. In other words: fucking die!
You made it this far. Ain't no shame in—
She silenced herself. It wasn't over yet.
Runa forced herself to open her eyes and reorient herself. As luck would have it, she had dived in just an appropriate direction, where some boulders and a big tree separated her from the direction where she'd flown from.
The hell with luck! It had been nothing but raw instinct. The very same thing that had helped to save her such countless times before.
Suddenly she felt naked and realized this was because she had lost her blades. A look toward her landing place revealed one of them, lying on the ground directly in the line of fire, next to a swath of incinerated grass. Probably the other had dropped from her hand during the flight.
The two corpses, plus that of Loria, had also been flung aside by the explosion. There was no sign of Frost, but it was likely that the shrewd horse had run away and was waiting somewhere close by.
She calculated quickly. A smart woman would do everything in her power to escape and fucking fast. She'd avoided fighting mages whenever it had been possible, at least cleanly. She hated mages! Fortunately most of them weren't that hard to beat, once you figured out their weakness. But this one seemed like it might be quite the trouble finding one. So she should run as far as she could as fast as she could and hope the young bastard had better things to do with his time than to chase after her. Then, once she located Frost, she'd have better luck getting away.
Even as she was thinking this, she found herself inching toward her blade.
Ah, shit on it, woman.
"I know you're still there!" the mage cried.
Runa stopped.
"You still think you can beat me, don't you?" He chuckled. "What is it with you little people who believe yourself to be any match for me?"
She thought of a remark but bit her tongue.
"Yes, I get it," he went on. "I'm easy to underestimate. They all do!" He laughed. "Oh, but just you wait. Once I return from Avangzand." He paused again to chuckle to himself. "I'm confident that there will be a different tune. Do you believe me? I feel it in my bones, Fair-Shield!"
What was he doing now, the stereotypical villain thing where he explained all his evil plans to her, never mind that she could have cared less about whatever nonsense he was going on about? In truth, he was starting to sound rather unhinged right about then.
She bit back another remark she thought of. Her blade gleamed enticingly close. Just a good lurch away. On the path—literally in harm's way—but with more trees right behind them, so she could made a dash and catch it.
And then do what, fool?
None of that now. Runa Fair-Shield had not come this far always questioning her own actions! That was not the Runa way.
That will be deliciously ironic to think about after he's roasted your stupid ass!
Enough! It sounded as if the kid were about to blather on more, and at that time, she made the decision to act.
She lunged ahead, feeling the strength and agility returning to her. The mage would not have enough time to react, she would snatch the blade and be over to the other side before he had the chance. Then she would elude him and lure him close and take him unawares. Shove that blade so far up his smarmy magic-tricking ass as to make his eyes gleam with iron.
Grinning, fingers already outstretched toward her beloved sword—something suddenly caught her foot. What! What enemy had managed to sneak up behind her, so fiendishly—
She had just enough time to verify the nature of her wicked foe—a fucking tree root sticking out of the ground!
Before that curse had fully formed on her lips the ground cozied up to her again. She managed to steer herself so as to not land on her blade. Now that would be ironic!
The next thing she knew, she was looking at the mage again. His brows had risen a touch, as if even he could not believe his enemy would be so kind as to simply offer herself for his broiling.
There was that dead split second when two people first grope the correct reaction and then simultaneously find it.
The kid threw his hands in the air just a little after Runa had already started somersaulting forward. This time she made sure the blade was in her grip before acting. She came around to her feet and propelled herself into the air. The heatwave made her scream as she flew. She landed nimbly with her elbow softening the impact, rolling over a couple times. Alive. Her backside felt warm, but she realized that the flame had not been hot enough to burn. Perhaps, had she still had her old braid, she would have some singed hairs, but as it stood she was fine.
For now.
The sound of explosion stopped Ariadne in her tracks.
Well, not exactly, as Arcana under her was still walking forward. But a split second after she would have stopped walking, had she been on foot, she gently tugged on the mare's mane to make her stop.
It had been right ahead, close-by, right behind that bend overhead. She could feel that uncanny, nearly imperceptible tingle in the air, of magic being used. Sort of a quasi-erotic feeling, to be honest.
Yeah, to be really honest, using destruction magic always made her kinda really horny—
Hardly the time!
Well, somebody was at it right then. And since they had made good time following the bastard they were after—
Ariadne found herself grinning hungrily, a pleasant tickle at the bottom of her belly. She looked back to the others, raised her hand in a gesture trying to convey, "hold! enemy ahead, join me. Or on second thought, stay back and let me take care of this, you two will only be in the way. Or never mind, do what you want I can't wait either way."
Probably it did not make much sense. But what did she care, glory awaited. She needed to act NOW!
"Let's go get 'im, girl!"
At first Ariadne had turned around to look at them with a feverish look on her face. Then she'd given them an absolutely incomprehensible set of waves, and then just suddenly rode away like Sithis was at her tail.
Ariela turned to Erik. "What is she—"
"Stay back!" he said. He dismounted and unsheathed his huge sword.
Ariela frowned. What, the girl's frantic floundering had made some sense to him? She felt a sudden uneasy compression in her chest and belly.
Erik reached out to touch her leg. "Don't worry," he said. "It will be alright."
When he said it, she nearly believed it. Now it was an altogether different feeling in her belly. She felt herself smiling.
But the smile melted away as he ran away after the mage. And she was frightened again.