Title-- The Demon-God of Jubagh (part nine)
Rating and Warnings-- G; mild language.
Species and Characters-- Rai Gerring, defected black magician (human male); Brandon "Exile" Styhan, exiled paladin-warrior (human male); Lhafa Softstep, native guide (baghan woman); the Rockhide tribe (baghans).
Previously-- Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight.



Brandon glanced over at Rai, arching a brow at the other man's apprehensive look. "Worried?"

"...a little." The magician sighed. "Sixty warriors is a lot, and we haven't slept for well over a day. Nor have we eaten. Or drank. I'm starting to think we should have rested before casually strolling into a dangerous situation."

Brandon laughed. "Sixty men with primitive weapons is nothing. I can take them on if you wanna focus on the hexer. Remember that we don't wanna kill him." He paused, then grunted. "You know, I just realized that Softstep hasn't asked that we stop for rest or food yet. Are baghans that much sturdier than us?"

Rai smiled thinly. "Perhaps. I wish I knew more about them." He stepped off the path and began pushing through the undergrowth, following a dried streambed. Brandon followed noisily. "Let me try talking to them before you incinerate them, alright? And try not to want to kill me, too?" He shot a wry grin over his shoulder.

The ex-paladin had the grace to wince. "Yeah, yeah. Alright. You talk, they attack, I kill 'em. Easy enough." He grinned broadly, then glanced backwards. "You think Softstep'll be alright?"

"I'm sure she will. She seems to be able to handle herself."

"Except when she runs into other baghans," Brandon countered dryly. "None of those Proudflints were even scratched. Bet she just surrendered."

Rai gave him a sharp look. "I'm glad she did. I don't want to get her killed, and if she can't fight, then..." He sighed, then faced forward again, swiping a branch out of his face. "I don't like the thought of killing defenseless people, Brandon."

"Don't go soft on me now, Rai." The warrior huffed, giving the smaller man a light shove. "You wanna save the world, you gotta kill some people. S'how it always is."

"'How it always is'? I'm almost glad I didn't know you on other worlds."

Brandon snorted, then lifted a hand to pause them both mid-step. "Feel that?" His eyes flashed yellow.

Rai tilted his head, casting his senses into the shadows that connected the trees. He nodded slowly. "The hexer knows we're here. Everything's riling up."

"Let's get moving. I don't want to meet him when the brush is this thick." The paladin jogged forward, assuming the lead and muscling branches and brambles out of the way for his companion. Rai followed quietly, robes hiked up to his hips in an attempt to avoid catching the hem on roots and sharp rocks that jutted from the soil.

They emerged into a sloped clearing; the sunlight made it past the trees in full force here, glittering on the tips of fifty-some spears. A veritable small army stood on the slope between them and a cluster of primitive huts. The baghans were mottled brown, many with red dye staining their cheeks and chins.

Rai laid a calming hand on Brandon's shoulder and stepped past him, lifting empty hands as though in a gesture of peace. "We wish to speak with your holy man," he called. The warriors staring them down muttered to each other, the conversation sweeping to the rear of their group. All but a handful were men, and the women stood in the very back, clad as sparsely as Lhafa - a stark contrast to the men's sturdier-looking leather.

The warriors parted to allow a tall baghan man who wore nothing but a kilt to pass between the ranks. He moved with slow deliberation, tiny bones and feathers tied to his mane, a row of bleached skulls ringing his belt; he appeared to be unarmed. "You seek the holy man of the Rockhides, outlanders?" he barked, coming to a halt a few paces in front of the foremost warriors.

Rai bowed low. "Yes, we do, holy one. I am Rai; this is .. Exile, a holy man of our people." He made a sweeping gesture towards Brandon, who inclined his torso in a shallow bow. His eyes were already gleaming with the Light. "We wish you no harm. We only come to talk, one holy man to another."

The hexer eyed Rai up and down, gaze piercing. "You are his spirit warrior, then, robed one?"

The black magician blinked. He had no idea what a spirit warrior was, but the baghan hadn't sounded disapproving. "Yes, I am." He forced a smile.

The hexer nodded slowly. "You come here bearing the scents of our enemies, but not the scent of their blood. Explain why you wish parlance with us."

He's keen. Discreetly, Rai stretched out his control of the shadows surrounding the clearing. "I wish to ascertain that certain baghans have not lied to us. You are not their allies, so you have no reason to speak aught but truth."

This was, apparently, the wrong thing to say. The warriors cried out, shaking their spears and pumping their fists into the air. The hexer's expression became dark. "No baghan will lie!" he shouted. "No baghan will lie! Lies are for other people of lesser spirit!"

"Oh, good move," Brandon muttered, lips parting in a toothy grin. He lifted his voice. "SILENCE!"

Surprisingly, the baghans fell silent.

"I wish information from you, holy one," the ex-paladin boomed, projecting his voice to nearly echo across the clearing. "I wish to know all you know about a certain god. I am willing to trade knowledge for knowledge."

"Which god is this?" the hexer challenged.

Brandon stifled a sigh. He had hoped they could speak more privately and not have to rile the entire tribe at once. "Zeh Gurhai," he replied brashly. There was a collective wince from the warriors, many of them making hand gestures or muttering - presumably wards and prayers.

"You will learn nothing of Zeh Gurhai from me!" the kilted baghan cried. "I would die before sharing such knowledge with an outlander!"

Brandon smiled widely, and Rai stepped to the side and backwards, so that they stood shoulder to shoulder. The shadows reached like serpents from the branches of the trees as golden light gathered around the ex-paladin's broad frame. The warriors clutched their spears, suddenly alert as the air around them seemed to become both brighter and darker at once.

"As you wish," Brandon intoned, his eyes shining as he lifted a glowing hand.