I stumbled with the realization, blinded for a moment with shock as I leaned against the cool rock face next to me for support. Then wordlessly, I turned and ran up the steps, not wasting even half a moment to see if the others followed or kept up with me. As I raced up the long stone stairway, my shock began to subside, transmuting into white-hot rage inside me. In less time than I would have thought possible when I first looked up to the top of the towering rock, I reached the last of the stairs.
The top of the rock was more or less flat, and a few scrubby trees and rubble and the ruins of walls and columns crisscrossed the grassy plateau that stretched out before me. As I scanned the field for any sign of them, Sano and Uno materialized at my side.
“Your mate is deeply distressed,” Sano commented. I gritted my teeth and didn’t reply as I continued my search.
“We do not understand why one of your kind would force another to copulate,” Uno helpfully added. “If the primary objective of mating in your species is pleasure, is that not then contrary to the purpose?”
“Some people are worse than monsters,” I snapped, glancing briefly at the pair before returning to my search.
“We do not comprehend your meaning as no monsters of our acquaintance behave in this manner,” Sano said after a slight pause, “but your mate is over there, in the middle of what was once a walled garden.” Both foxes looked towards the southeast, then they disappeared again.
I looked where they indicated, and I saw a flutter of white between the broken fragments of walls. Narrowing my eyes to better focus, I saw them more clearly. He had removed his coat, and his pants were dropped down. He had her bent over a section of ruined wall and was thrusting his hips violently into her, and as I looked, he gave a final powerful thrust, then backed away. He had her hair wrapped around one hand, using it like a leash, and he still gripped her shoulder with the other. He released his hold on her, and she stumbled and slumped down over the wall. I could see then that her hands were bound behind her back, and that she was blindfolded and gagged as well. As he pulled his trousers up and fastened them, I could hear low, deep, vicious laughter even from that distance, but I heard nothing from her.
All this surely took no more than two or three seconds at the most, yet it felt like hours as I watched, aghast and numb with shock. Then my limbs unfroze, and I felt a surge of power flowing through me. Grabbing my glaive and casting my pack aside, I leaped over the wall before me. I sprang over the obstacles in my path, or leaped atop them and catapulted from them. For all my speed, I moved almost soundlessly, his first hint of my approach being the howl of rage I loosed as I leaped down from the crumbling garden wall behind him, prepared to plunge the blade of my glaive through his skull.
His reflexes were swift—nearly as swift as Avani’s—and in one fluid motion, he turned, grabbed his sword from where it rested next to his coat, and swung it around, blocking my blow just as it fell. Then he pushed me back and away from him, and I fell to the ground in a crouch, facing him.
He pressed forward, his teeth bared in a mirthless grin, and snarled, “So the dog has followed its mistress, has it? Beware, cur—I am not known for my kindness to animals.” He swung his heavy blade around, striking the shaft of my glaive with a powerful blow calculated to shatter my weapon.
However, my weapon had been carefully crafted by Avani. It had not been something she’d made for practice, and then given to me afterwards just to avoid waste—she had crafted it especially for me, to fit me perfectly, and of the finest materials she could lay her hands on. It was the pinnacle of her smithing skills to this date, and it was well-made indeed. The finest smiths in the land could have done no better. The shaft held.
This time, I pushed him back—caught off guard by the failure of his blow, he stumbled slightly. Taking advantage of the opportunity, I quickly cast a whirlwind wheel. To my surprise, he leapt with incredible grace, flipping and leaping through the air much as Avani herself did in combat. She was lighter and perhaps a little more graceful, but still, he moved with amazing agility and controlled power. I quickly realized that I had to be careful not to underestimate him—it seemed there was more to him than I had believed. And this was one battle I could not afford to lose.
As the whirlwinds chased my opponent across the field, I heard a cry from behind, glancing briefly in that direction, I saw Chanda and Dylas speeding towards me, jumping over walls as though they were hurdles in a race. Behind them, I could see Sharmila helping Rishi maneuver through the ruins. I shouted back to them, “Go help Avani!” and turned back to my foe, who had dropped into a crouch to avoid a branch flung by the last of the winds.
The whirlwinds had dispersed, and I could see a few bloodied patches where they had caught him or had flung fragments of stone into him. Still, he seemed unperturbed by his injuries as he rose to his feet, moving like a wild cat as he stared into my eyes. But I was no helpless victim to be so easily intimidated, though I was hunted by the leopard himself. I was Leon, once of Leon Karnak, former priest to the Divine Wind, swift and cunning as a fox. And I was mad as hell.
As he moved towards me, slowly raising his sword, I could see Dylas from the corner of my eye, preparing to launch himself into the fray. Without taking my eyes from Bhima, I shouted to him, “Stay out of this! This is my fight!”
“No fucking way!” he protested as he reached my side. “You can’t expect me to just stand back and watch your ass get kicked all over this goddamn rock!”
“You won’t,” I snarled, “Now go—take care of Avani for me!”
Hesitating just a moment, I could hear Chanda’s voice call to him. “Dylas, get your sorry ass back over here and keep out of his way. You’re distracting him! Avani needs our help now—leave Bhima to Leon.”
With a frustrated snort, he turned and left, and I refocused my full attention on my opponent as he approached me. We circled around each other, sizing each other up in a deadly pantomime. He slowly flourished his sword, the brilliant afternoon sun glinting from the watered steel surface of the curved blade. In response, I brandished my fire-imbued glaive, whirling it before me like a crimson vortex. He gave a snort of humorless laughter, then he narrowed his eyes and leaped, like a springing panther, arcing and twisting as he flew at me.
I swung my glaive through the air, connecting with his blade and knocking him to the side. He had anticipated that move, though, and landed with feline reflexes on his feet, whirling and slashing at my unprotected midsection before I could recover. I leaped out of the way, but he still managed to slice across my ribs, leaving a painful gash with his razor-sharp weapon.
From a short distance to the side, I heard Dylas bellow, “Idiot!” before casting a healing spell on me. I don’t know when he learned to do that, as his magic skills were definitely not the best, but I hadn’t time to worry about that now. As the wound closed, Bhima dove in low, spinning and slashing at my legs. I leaped up and back out of the path of his blade, but he sprang up, pressing me as he slashed at me, the long, curving blade slicing through the air a bare gnat’s wing before me as I dodged and quickly backed up away from him.
“You will lose, half-breed,” he growled as he pressed me. “I give no quarter to those who oppose me. And once my sword has sated itself with your blood, your mongrel offspring will follow. The woman is mine and mine alone, and I will brook no interference.”
Unable to see behind me, I collided with a tree, the impact jarring my teeth. Grinning viciously, Bhima dove at me, his blade aimed at my exposed stomach. But he wasn’t the only one capable of both thinking and acting quickly, and I crouched and sprang straight up, my glaive in one hand as I grasped a limb above me with the other, then I spun around on it and let go, flinging up into the air and landing in a crouch balanced on the tree limb over his head.
With a snarl, he changed course, and instead slashed in a circle, perhaps thinking his powerful sword could slice through the tree limb as readily as it could through a man’s flesh. Indeed, it sliced through a good three inches—then it lodged there and would not pull free.
I stood up and aimed my glaive at him, leaping down at him with a shout. He sprang into a back flip and landed on his feet several yards away. He held his hands before him, apparently preparing to cast a spell, so I cast a fire wheel at him as quickly as I could, disrupting his focus as he was forced to leap aside to avoid the spiraling fireballs.
As he was occupied with avoiding the bursts of fire, I darted in, dodging the flames as I dove at him. Once again, he leaped out of my way, but he landed with one foot at the edge of a crevice in the stone. His foot slipped down and trapped him, and as he fell from the force of his momentum, his leg audibly snapped. Bellowing in pain and frustration, he stood again, leaning heavily on his good leg as he faced me, hatred and fury darkening his eyes.
I strode up to him, the point of my glaive leveled and ready to violate his innards, my face contorted with rage. “I warned you to keep your hands off my wife,” I snarled, then wrenched the weapon back. He stood still, defiant and unafraid, as I prepared to run him through—yes, even if it meant killing him in cold blood as he stood helpless and trapped before me, nevertheless I would kill him. It was the very least he deserved for what he’d done.
As I readied myself to thrust the blade forward and eviscerate him, Avani—freed from her bonds by Dylas and Chanda—shouted “Stop!” Startled by her cry, I checked my attack, stumbling a little as I restrained myself from following through. All eyes turned towards her as she strode towards us, walking straight and tall despite her injuries and the pain she suffered, looking every inch a warrior.
She stepped between my weapon and my quarry, then gently caressed my ears and ran her hand down my cheek. Leaning her forehead against my chest, she whispered, “Please, Leo, don’t do it. I beg of you.”
I looked down at her, astonished by her request. Surely she couldn’t be asking me to let him go? But I hardened my heart and replied, “No. He deserves no less than death, Avani. Even I cannot find any forgiveness for him within me.”
“Please Leo, please—step back,” she said, gently but firmly pushing me backwards away from Bhima. “I won’t let you do this.”
“Why? Why are you stopping me?” I shouted, frustrated and bewildered.
“Because…” she said looking up at me with a sorrowful look in her eyes. She gently stroked my cheek, her fingers trailing down my neck to my shoulder. She gripped my arms tightly for a moment, leaning her forehead against me as she took a deep breath before again gazing up at me, and there was love in her eyes.
Then suddenly her gaze became cold and hard, and she whirled to face the man who had assaulted her time and time again, claiming her as a possession, and she snarled, “Because I will finish him myself.” Before anyone could react to this sudden change, she cast a healing spell on herself and the man before her, then she raised her hand up to the sky and shouted, “Virtsati!”
Behind me, Sharmila gasped and Rishi shouted, “Avani, no!” I looked back at them, bewildered by what was happening.
Sharmila ran to me, grabbed my arm, and dragged me back, hissing an explanation. “She has cast a nullification spell. That means that no magic will work within its range until either the spell is used up or until she revokes it. It’s a tremendously powerful spell that neutralizes all magic cast within the affected area for its duration… even healing spells and teleportation spells will not work while it is in effect.”
I understood then—she had effectively neutralized his spell attacks and ensured he could not simply flee, but at great personal cost, as she would not be able to heal herself or be healed by others. Since casting the spell was such a drain on her resources, it left her weakened even before combat began. And since she had healed Bhima, he had a clear advantage over her. Or so I thought.
Everyone else had backed away to the edge of the clearing, although Dylas, too, had to be dragged away, like myself. I saw that Chanda kept a restraining hold on his arm, and saw her say something to him that appeared to shock him, as he turned pale and his eyes and mouth opened wide as he stared at Avani. Turning to Rishi and Sharmila, I said, “I can’t let her do this alone—I have to help her!” I started forward, but Sharmila held my arm firmly.
Pulling me back again, she said, “No. You must not interfere at this point. Look at her—can you not see the difference? If you attempt to interfere now, she will only turn on you, too.” I looked as she pointed, and I saw—her sea green eyes were nearly black, her pale honey-colored skin had likewise darkened to a deep bronze. A strange insignia glowed redly on her forehead.
“She’s consumed with battlelust—a very rare ability among our usually peaceful people, one that has not been seen for a hundred generations or more. And just as sexual lust can only be sated by sexual acts, so can battlelust only be sated by combat. She will fight without ceasing or discrimination until the lust has been satisfied and departed from her—or until she is dead or dying. She cannot be stopped now—to attempt to do so is to die. You, like the rest of us, must await the outcome.”
Bhima had freed his foot by then, and though he limped slightly, it seemed to no longer impede him. The two combatants circled each other, and both moving with feline stealth and lupine cunning, never taking their eyes from the other’s. After completing a few rounds of this sizing up and measuring, Bhima narrowed his eyes and grinned ferally. Without warning, he suddenly lunged at her, attempting to throw her to the ground.
Despite her injuries and her great belly, however, Avani’s reflexes were still lightning-fast. She leapt up and executed a series of back flips, staying just out of her opponents reach as he grabbed for her, snarling, always a second behind her. He closed in on her, seemingly intent on beating her unconscious, yet once again she slipped away. Sliding beneath his arm, she swept her leg underneath him, knocking his feet out from under him. He crashed heavily to the ground with a loud grunt, and she performed a sort of a combination cartwheel and wheel kick, delivering a series of rapid, hard kicks as she spun over his abdomen. He doubled up in pain, then jumped to his feet and whirled around to face her.
He again circled her, apparently reconsidering his original assessment of her abilities. After all, her skills had to have improved exponentially since he’d last seen her. She stood straight, turning to continue facing him but otherwise motionless. Her near-black eyes flashed with an otherworldly emerald light, and she held herself proudly erect, unbowed and unafraid.
Again he charged, apparently having decided that utilizing his advantages in sheer strength and size were his best options for a speedy victory. She remained motionless as he dove at her, howling an animalistic challenge as he lunged. But again, when he flung himself at her to knock her down and pin her beneath him… she wasn’t there. He spun over onto his back, blinking up into the brilliant sunlight. His eyes widened when he saw what we saw—Avani plummeting towards him in a power kick aimed straight for his stomach. He rolled onto his side, but not quite far enough. She landed with a resounding thud on his leg, the force of the impact driving him down into the ground. I heard a cracking sound, and he bellowed like an infuriated bull as she sprang up and away. This time, though, he had better fortune—he whipped a hand out and grabbed her by an ankle before she could get out of range, jerking her to the ground.
Slowly, agonizingly, he rose, dragging himself to his feet, still gripping her leg as she fought to free herself. He raised her up over his head, and with a hoarse shout, flung her down onto her back on the ground, cracking her like a whip. I cried out and tried to leap to her aid, but Rishi and Sharmila both restrained me, gripping my arms tightly as we all focused intently on the battle. Avani lay staring skywards, motionless except for her heaving chest, and I saw blood beginning to spread out from beneath her head, staining the trampled earth.
Bhima stared down at her, grinning maliciously. He knelt down over her, flipping her tattered skirt out of his way, and I realized with horror that he intended to rape her again right there as she lay helpless—possibly dying—in front of us all. Growling in his deep voice as he unfastened his trousers, “You are mine, and mine alone. I will do with you what I please and when I please, and none shall gainsay me.” I struggled against the restraining hands that held me fast, desperate to reach them, to stop his brutal attack. Before I could free myself, he lowered himself over her, positioning himself between her thighs, his broken leg his only impediment. Suddenly, moving faster than unenhanced human eyes could see, Avani was sitting up and slamming her boots up into his chest, sending him flying back.
He crashed into a tree trunk with enough force to crack the lowest limbs. She flew at him, raining kicks and punches upon him with a speed like I’d never seen before. She was a blur of motion, spiraling and somersaulting and flipping through the air like a leaf in a typhoon—like a swallow in flight. Bhima quickly began to wear down, unable to even keep his eyes on her, let alone block her. Her punches had such force that they split his skin in a score of places; her kicks doubly so. He was soon bruised and bleeding all over, tiny rivulets of blood trickling down his back and chest.
After several minutes of unrelenting battering, Bhima was spent and could not take any more. He fell heavily forward onto his hands and knees, panting, blood dripping from his mouth. Avani dropped to the ground and stood before him. He looked everywhere, anywhere but her face, humiliation and defeat in his eyes and a snarl on his bloodied lips.
She stepped up to him and reached down. Grabbing his long, bloodstained white hair in her hand, she yanked his head up, forcing him to look her in the eyes. Then she reached down and dragged him to his feet. She stepped up close to him, her eyes still flashing in spite of her many injuries and the blood that matted her hair and soaked her clothing. She reached up and placed one hand on the back of his neck, caressing his chest with the other. I stiffened as I watched her—I couldn’t imagine what she was thinking, what she was doing. She couldn’t possibly….
“Bhima, my so-called husband,” she said in a low voice that sent chills down my spine. “You took me as your bride when I was eighteen and an innocent virgin, violently and repeatedly raping me on my wedding night. You murdered Sundara, my first love, my refuge, although he had done you no wrong, nor committed any crime. You killed him in cold blood before my eyes, and threatened harm to those I loved if I didn’t lie for you to cover your sin. You raped me nightly and often beat me horrifically, all in the hopes of beating me down so that I would cave in to your obsession and bear you sons to further your ambitions. And because rape was nonexistent in our tribe—at least, until you came along—and because you healed the outwards signs of your abuse, my father refused to either believe me or to protect me from you. Only my beloved twin knew even a fraction of my suffering, as he felt your violations as if they were happening to him, and I feared he would go mad.
“Ironically, you never realized how close you came to realizing your ambition. You did manage to get me with child, shortly before you killed Sundara. But then you beat me so severely one night, that you killed your own child.” Bhima drew back, shock and stark rage in his eyes, but she ignored him and continued speaking.
“For what you have done to me, Bhima, I have made you bleed—bleed as I bled every time you forced yourself into me, smiling as I wept in pain and enjoying my deepest anguish and humiliation as if it were nectar. For what you have done to my brother, I have broken your bones, so that you, too, may feel pain and helplessness and shame. But for my Sundara, whom you murdered, and for my beloved Leon and the children I bear, whose lives you also attempted to take, I will only say this to you: May Ventu have mercy on your soul.” She looked up into his eyes, one hand slowly caressing down his cheek, his neck, his chest as she spoke, and finally tracing circles on his abdomen as the other pulled him down almost as if to kiss him, and I saw her lips move as if casting a spell. When his lips were within a mere fingerbreadth of hers, however, her mouth curved into a savage grin. Smashing the palm of her hand against his stomach, she snarled, “Dantasa Haa!”
Sharmila and Rishi shouted in unison, and Bhima’s eyes opened wide in shock and horror. Avani stepped back, and he stumbled forward, falling to the ground at her feet. He retched and gasped, bloody foam streaming from his mouth and nostrils as he clutched his stomach. He contorted in agony, choking on his own blood. I looked at Sharmila and Rishi, their faces horrified, utterly at a loss as to what was happening. Seeing my confusion, Sharmila clutched my arm and said, “Avani canceled the nullification spell—that must have been what she whispered after she commended him to Ventu. Then she… she cast Dantasa Haa inside him.”
“Dan—” I started to ask, unable to take my eyes from the scene before me.
“It’s a spell to summon a pool of strong acid. As with most of our spells, it has a practical, peaceful application—metalworking, in this case. But also as with many of our spells, it can be used offensively—like now, when she cast it directly into him—though it is far from ideal for that purpose. It’s eating him from the inside out, dissolving his flesh and bone—a painful, gruesome death. However, it’s a very powerful spell—summoning spells always take a massive amount of energy—and her resources were already severely drained from casting Virtsati and from combat. I fear….”
Before she could continue, however, Bhima gave one last gurgling moan, a foul mist rising from him as the acid finally consumed him. I turned away, thoroughly sickened by the sight, and saw that I was not alone. Nearly every observer looked ill or was retching—Avani only stood unaffected, watching her tormentor die his horrible death. A moment later, and there was nothing remaining—he had been entirely consumed, and all that remained where he had met his end was a small, crescent-shaped amulet on a chain.
Avani turned and faced us, and as we looked at her, she again transformed. The blackness left her eyes, returning them to their beautiful sea green, and her skin faded to its normal shade of pale golden honey. The red mark on her forehead flared up brilliantly and vanished, leaving no trace behind. She took a shaky step towards me… then she crumpled to the ground as her twin wailed her name and sank to his knees.