Phoenix of the West

Part 6
by CrownedSun
for Whirlwind Brush Method

This was the turning point, the crux of the story, when heros were united and hunts formed...and the daughter of our village planned her revenge.

Lyeshe stood before the dockmaster, indignation and anger plain on his features as Osol mutely watched the goings on. She couldn’t help but smile inwardly, and the collar continued its rhapsody. The song was almost cheerful, but the sailors and other mortals around were too unnerved to notice.

“What do you mean, ‘the boats are delayed’? Lyeshe’s voice boomed with all the fury of a windstorm – another thing that wasn’t good for the well being of the mortals. “I will not tolerate such! I am a Dynast of the Realm, Prince of the Earth, on important business of House Ragara, and you would do well to heed my wishes.”

“My most humble apologies, noble Scion of the Realm,” the dockmaster stammered out. He was looking at the Dynast’s feet, and could barely contain his fear at having upset the Ragara so much. “However, there is little that can be done. There was an accident last night and the harbor is blocked. Until it is cleared, nothing can get in or out.”

Lyeshe turned to look at Osol, as if it was her doing, his eyes narrow. Then, with a angry rumbling sigh and a flaring of essence, he turned back toward the dockmaster. For a moment it was as if a flaming aura surrounded the dynast, an aura of menace and superiority that radiated out from him and poured it’s fury on the poor overworked Dockworker more effectively than a brace of armed and angry men.

“Fix the problem, with all due speed, for with every hour that passes my anger will grow brighter and more sure than the North Wind.” He paused then, and the flaming banner seemed to dim somewhat and then fade. “You will fetch me when it is done.”

Taban was not a few minutes gone, having only gotten to the outer edges of the Del`Zahn village, by the time the others caught up with him. There were about half a dozen of them, good strong warriors and men of the tribe. Many of them had hunted with him and Khadka, laughed at his jokes and listened to his stories. Friendly faces, but when Taban first noticed them he worried that they had become…unfriendly toward him.

The first of them, a tall and brawny warrior named Tegus, spoke out first. “Taban! We are coming with you. Khadka told us some of what has happened to Osol…”

Taban inwardly cursed his father for that lapse, but looked out at the gathered young men of the village as if weighing the option – he frowned, and shook his head. “Tegus, your courage is noted and your warriors’ spirit appreciated. However, this is not your fight and it is too dangerous. She is being held by a Dynast; a dangerous one.”

Tegus looked over at the other men, but there was no dissent there. “We know Taban, and we know what you are and what they came here to do to you. We lied to protect you, and would do so again. You are a friend of this village; maybe even a son,” the young warrior said, his voice resolute and clear. “We also know Osol, and she is a daughter of the village. I will not leave her fate to a battle I do not join.”

Taban frowned, shaking his head, but he recognized the look in their eyes. Most especially in the eyes of Tegus, a look that was not unfamiliar to him. “Very well, Tegus, if your will is set. We will go and free Osol; however you must leave Lyeshe to me. He is too dangerous. Any warriors still with him, those you can fight, and if none remain then work to secure Osol…”

Tegus just nodded, and moved to join Taban. The other young warriors followed, their faces grim but determined.

“Let us go then, Taban. Every minute we wait…”

Taban laughed, and nodded. “I am aware.” Then, the seven were off…

Osol sat down in the room Lyeshe had gotten her, grateful that he was not looming over her for at least a little while. She shivered a bit, as fingers ran over the greasy metal of the chill collar. It’s unnatural cold had initially touched her neck, but now she could feel it running through her entire body like lines of ice.

She was beginning to get used to it, and that frightened her more than anything else.

There was no latch, no seam, though she did not expect one. Lyeshe would not let her come free so easily, after all. The collar seemed to sing in a cold sympathy for her, and tears began to run down her face at the thought of being chained for the rest of her life.

“Who creates such a thing?” She had felt so free and powerful when the sun had touched her, as if she surmounted the world and was made it’s queen. All the petty worries of her childhood, the teasing of other girls in the tribe, they had seemed nothing. Now all that was gone? I will find a way to free myself.

With a hand, she wiped away her tears and nodded to herself. She is greater than this hunk of screaming steal, and she will master it. She will show Lyeshe that she is not the slave, and that he has no power over her…

I will…

Oteitani moved over the waste, his feet sinking into the loose sand with every step, the wind blowing at his hair. The golden monkey was quiet for the moment, as he was lost in thought of deeper things. Why had he let the demon live, especially knowing what he knew about his own curse. He should have struck him down.

‘Osol and I aren’t demons. No more than you are’. That is what the demon had said, simple words and yet they meant something more to him. Demon magic, or was he telling the truth.

What did he know? A demon pronouncing me to be pure; a noble warrior. Surely I can rest easily now, knowing that the Lords of Malfaes think me a fine and upstanding man. He laughed a little, and then sighed as he crested the dune.

I suppose I might as well get this over with, he thought to himself, and then raised his voice into a shout. “Sanan, if you intend to keep following me you should at least quit trying to make like your hiding. There’s nothing but sand and wind for miles, and you just aren’t that good.”

Sanan, crawling along the top of the dune that Oteitani had crossed a few minutes ago, did nothing for a few minutes – then she hesitantly stood up, looking at the Linowan’s back with a mixture of wry amusement and worry.

“How long have you known I was here?” she asked, in a shout only a bit soften than his own, as she kicked her way over the dune and toward him.

“Do you really want to know? It’d just embarrass you.” He kept his back turned to the woman still, but took no further movement, as if waiting for her to catch up.

She was quiet for the next few minutes, as she trudged over the sand and up the dune where Otetani was waiting. Finally, standing next to him, she said in a voice that was a little over a whisper, “This isn’t some trick to lure me in and then drag me to some form of dire and inescapable doom, right?”

Otetani just turned, giving her a glare and narrowing his eyes, about to say something more but Sanan just grinned a bit and nodded. “Just checking,” she noted with her customary uncaring demeanor. A hand unconsciously moved to her side, rubbing what looked to be a bandaged wound a bit from some of the blood that had seeped through her over shirt. She caught his glance, and gave a shrug… “Maybe I’ll tell you about it later. Ota… I… I know about your Cur-“

He snorted a bit, at that, started walking and calling back,” If you think you know so much about me, why didn’t you bring Lyeshe? You saw me spare the other Anathema, take the demon-gold. I’m just going to sell it, you know. Just like I told the demon…”

Sanan frowned, looked a bit put off – maybe wondering why she didn’t bring the Dragon-Blooded or perhaps offended at the words he’d chosen. “I was going to, at first,” she admitted, her words a bit stronger. “However, later, I got to thinking about your story. This isn’t your fault; you can’t be a real Anathema. They sell their souls, but you were just possessed by one or something. Right? I mean that story wasn’t just a big lie…”

Otetani turned, then, and looked at her with eyes that expected more or less any answer other than the one she had given him. He tried to say something, but found that he couldn’t bring any words to his lips. Maybe he wasn’t all that powerful after all...

She smiled, a simple smile, and nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. So you’re not Anathema, Ota, you’re just…touched by them. There has to be a cure. The Realm probably wouldn’t care, but there are others. A shaman, or a Little God… There’s hope, Ota, you just have to have a little faith.”

He narrowed his eyes, after a short pause, and then looked up at the sky and the sun beating down on him – before looking quickly back down at the dunes, the monkey jittering and hollering from his shoulder all of a sudden. “We’ll see. It’s Otetani, once again, by the way. Why do you care anyway?”

She just grinned. “Hey! We’re practically neighbors, remember?”

Lyeshe returned to his rooms where he had left Osol after only an hour or so, giving the woman a glare as if he didn’t expect her to still be there. He’d told her to ‘take her fill of the village, while she had her mind’. So confident in his old over her that he didn’t care if she wandered alone throughout the small port town. She’d remained in this room, however, unmoving. She’d not give him the satisfaction.

“You are more spirited than Uyashh,” he noted, after staring at her for a long moment, “but the collar will break you just the same.”

Oslo just gave him a little evil grin, and laughed a little at the pain that shot through her at his will, finding that it didn’t bother her as much as the unease of wearing the collar in general. She laughed harder at this realization, her grin getting wider, and Lyeshe fell back raising his arm and focusing on her until the pain became blinding and she fell back into her seat waiting for the agony to subside.

Yet she did not give him the pleasure of screaming, and the Dragon-Blooded was visibly unnerved by the events.

“You cannot cage me, Lyeshe,” she said, her eyes staring up at his with an intensity that might have scarred the Dragon-Blooded. He just sneered and poured more pain at her, until she was clenching her fists so hard that she drew blood and her vision became tinged with black.

“You are not so strong now are you, il-djohaar. The collar will master you, no matter what strength you display in its face,” he noted, sending another fresh wave of pain at her just for emphasis. “I have seen it before, the struggle that you now show. You are strong, but you will not escape, il-djohaar.”

Osol was about to say ‘My name is Osol’, when she felt a voice welling up from inside her as if it sprouted from a rib on the left side of her body. “Quiet girl; you only anger him. If you show too much spirit, he will just kill you.”

The voice echoed in her head, and she tried her best not to show it on her face despite her surprise. The practice of hiding her feelings aided her in this, and Lyeshe just grinned as if he had impressed her with his little speech – turning back to other matters.

“Yes, that is right – quiet your fiery tongue for a few moments. You are not as stupid as I feared you might be. This one will not just bury you up to your neck in sand, after all,” the Gemlord said to her, his voice a dry rumble and addressing her as it might a particularly slow child.

Osol just sat there, for a moment, before she slowly moved her hand over toward the small pocket on her waist. The left side of her waist. She patted the small gem given to her by a sarcastic Kri, and kept herself from grinning.

“Smarter and smarter still. You still owe me, girl. I’ll not have you dying before I receive repayment for the favor I granted you,” the Gemlord noted with a rumbly laugh like an Earthquake. “In fact, since you saw fit to land yourself in more trouble I might just renegotiate my pact a little – after all, as you noted yourself, I only ‘take the worship of your family and give nothing in return’.”

Osol just quieted her mind, letting the words slip through the tiny stabs of anger and pain that remained, without bringing them to her lips. What do you want, Stone Face?

“So little respect; you have not changed at all. Maybe I should just leave you to your fate – but I think I like this arrogant Dragon-Blood even less than you. I shall make you an offer, Osol, and I make this only once. It is not open to negotiation. You either accept it, or you do not,” the distant spirit noted, it’s voice the clean and considered rumblings of stone against stone. “I will not entertain any of your backtalk.”

Struggling to keep her thoughts polite, Osol didn’t trust herself with anything but a nod. She needed any aid she could get… Especially if Taban did not-- no, he was coming.

“Maybe he is, maybe he is not. Maybe he lingers still, bleeding to death in my domain. If you wish my aid, child of the Sun, you must pledge on your God that you will serve my will for not less than a year and a day. At the time of my choosing.”

PhoenixOfTheWest/Chapt06

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