Title-- The Demon-God of Jubagh (part seven)
Rating and Warnings-- PG; language and violence.
Species and Characters-- Rai Gerring, defected black magician (human male); Brandon "Exile" Styhan, exiled paladin-warrior (human male); Lhafa Softstep, native guide (baghan woman).
Previously-- Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six.



"Calm down, Brandon." Rai managed to squint past the searing light to make out his companion's darker silhouette. He had no darkness to shield him, and the stifling warmth was bringing sweat to his forehead. He was entirely vulnerable.

The ex-paladin strode forward, his legs freed from the shadowy coils. He towered over the thin magician, heat and light accompanying him as he reached out a hand for the other man's throat.

Rai ducked and danced backwards, half-blinded and sweating profusely in the fire-like heat. "Don't do this, Brandon," he warned, then sighed as the ex-paladin moved forward again, hand still extended. "...you brought this upon yourself," he murmured, almost to himself, as he drew a slender knife from the depths of one sleeve. The next time Brandon reached out, Rai sliced the back of the other man's wrist lightly, extending his free hand to catch the few droplets of blood that fell.

The black magician lifted his bloodied palm to his lips, kissing the red fluid lightly and whispering into his hand. He slid the dagger across the same palm, mingling his blood with Brandon's, still moving steadily backwards as the Light-filled warrior continued to advance. The blood on his lips tasted metallic and salty, full of steel and tears.

Smoke rose from his stained palm, smoke that solidified into shadows. The streams of darkness twisted forward, coiling around the ex-paladin's throat and face, twining tightly and knotting with almost tangible thickness.

The piercing luminance that had lit the forest path like a fallen sun abruptly faded, and Brandon hit his knees, choking and coughing out shadows. Rai waited until the other man had toppled onto his side, lungs heaving ineffectually, before he loosed the dark bind on Brandon's face and allowed him to breathe clean air.

Lhafa stepped back onto the path, cautiously but quickly moving to kneel next to Brandon. Deftly, she uncurled his limbs and rolled him onto his back, then rested a gentle hand on his shoulder as he struggled to catch his breath. "You did not kill him," she murmured, casting a sidelong glance at Rai.

He smiled thinly, only now aware that he himself was emitting a faint red glow - or, more accurately, the arcane symbols painted into his skin were. "Of course not." He drew closer, peering down at the ex-paladin.

"Would he have killed you, had you not fought back?" She eyed Brandon with detached curiosity.

"Perhaps. I have no intention of finding out." Rai crouched, robes rustling, and wiped his lips with his sleeve. The taste of blood didn't leave. "Wake up, Brandon. You aren't dead, nor anywhere close to it." He tucked his cut palm into his sleeve, using his clean hand to softly touch the former paladin's forehead.

Brandon's eyes flew open, lacking a golden sheen, and fixated on Rai's upside-down face. "The... hells...?..." he grated, sitting up and slapping away Lhafa's proffered hand.

"I didn't want you setting my clothes aflame," Rai quipped. "I like these robes too much."

Lhafa stood with liquid grace and stepped away from the two, walking several strides down the path and then pausing. She was either impatient, offended by Brandon's callous refusal of her help, or giving them space - Rai found that he didn't care which.

Brandon twisted around, and both men stood simultaneously. "...you alright?" he asked gruffly, eyeing the magician.

"Just a scratch and a sauna." Rai smiled. "You?"

The ex-paladin rubbed at his throat. "Feel like I wanna cough, but can't. And," he glanced down, "a scratch. Your doing?"

"Well, it certainly wasn't the baghans." The magician chuckled. "I think we'll both be fine. Shall we continue before our guide abandons us?"

Brandon gave him a suspicious look, then cast a hand over the back of his own wrist. The cut healed in a stream of golden light, and the dried blood on Rai's dagger and palm evaporated into steam. Rai didn't betray himself by wincing at the heat. "Don't suppose you want me to heal you, too," Brandon grunted.

"Not particularly." Rai turned towards the waiting baghan woman. "Shall we?"

"Yeah." Brandon moved past his companion briskly. "Sorry," he muttered gruffly as their shoulders bumped.

"I know." Rai smiled again, faintly, as the glow finally faded from his tattoos.