Title-- The Demon-God of Jubagh (part nineteen)
Rating and Warnings-- PG; mild language and some violence.
Species and Characters-- Rai Gerring, defected black magician (human man); Brandon "Exile" Styhan, exiled paladin-warrior (human man); Lhafa Softstep, possessed spirit warrior (baghan woman); Erick Glessen, favored paladin-warrior (human man).
Previously-- Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen, Part Sixteen, Part Seventeen, Part Eighteen.



"So," Brandon grinned down at Rai, "this your first time saving the world?"

The black magician rolled his eyes. "Yes," he replied dryly. "All the times before, I was the one summoning the demon-god to plague the universe."

"You were?" Lhafa asked, startled. Brandon laughed loudly as Rai threw up his hands.

"No, not really," he explained, eyeing the ex-paladin as he channeled Light into the three tiny pots of salve that Lhafa had made. He had no idea where she'd found the little clay containers. "I am not the world-destroying type," he quipped, going for a more light-hearted tone. He didn't particularly want to recount his past deeds to someone who had no need to know; a change of topic was needed. "Will this work, do you think, Lhafa? Brandon's magic isn't the same as the holy men's."

She lifted a narrow shoulder in a shrug. "It is the only thing I can think to do. I hope it will work, but I am unsure." Rai nodded thoughtfully, then barely caught the little pot in time when Brandon tossed it at him without warning. Lhafa caught hers in one hand without batting an eye.

"Rai." The larger man balanced his own pot on the tip of one thick finger. "I gotta admit, this all seems... strange."

"What, saving the world and upturning social standards? It should be the norm for you by now," the magician grinned.

"No, no. That ain't it. We wind up carting around Softstep here, who isn't just a guide... but someone who can be as powerful as any local hexer. She's possessed by a guy's ghost, and he's given us all the information we need to take the baddies down - and now that he's out of things to say, she's knocked him flat. You and I wiped out a tribe, but we haven't seen a single repercussion of that show of force in the past week and a half. We managed to sneak up on the strongest hexers on the planet, with no challenges, no warnings, and no problems." Brandon met Rai's gaze, a frown on his face. "This seem too easy to you, too?"

"We still have to defeat the most powerful baghans around, and however many of their tribesmen that happen to be there," Rai countered, but his brows furrowed. "That doesn't strike me as easy, especially since the Rockhides nearly killed both of us... but... I see what you mean."

Lhafa shook her head. "I do not think that they would suspect anything. Even if they knew you destroyed the tribe, even if they knew you were here, I do not think that they would expect you to fight them." She uncorked the little bottle and drank the antivenom quickly, grimacing at the taste. "Drink yours, as well. It will take some minutes for the potion to spread--"

"Shh." Brandon twisted around, peering past Rai's woven shadow-wall that hid them from any casual glance. "There's someone nearb--"

Brilliant, eye-searing light exploded, incinerating the protective darkness and throwing the black magician bodily to the ground. The ex-paladin threw up his arms to shield his face, but he and Lhafa remained untouched. "What in the hells--"

"Ahh, Brother Styhan," a voice greeted from the midst of the burning radiance. It did not speak the baghan language. "Are you enjoying your stay on this backwards mudball? It seems you've learned their tongue very well, if your first reaction to Light is to curse incoherently."

Brandon's eyes shone yellow, and he lowered his arms to look through the rays of light without squinting. "Tone it down, Erick," he growled, hands balling into fists. "The mage is--"

"--what, he's your friend?" The light winked out, leaving only a man in form-fitting leather armor and chainmail. His fair skin was tattooed with the same barred pattern as Brandon's. "Are you going to ask me not to finish him? He's a black magician, Brother. Don't tell me--"

The exile lifted a heavy hand, palm flat. "Shut up, Erick. I'd rather not kill you if I don't have to." Eyes fading back to dark brown, now that the need to see through Light was gone, he turned; Lhafa was kneeling over Rai, her hooved fingers lightly touching his forehead. "He breathing?" he asked in the baghan tongue.

"It is as last time," she murmured, squinting. Her eyes hadn't adjusted to the relative darkness of the dense forest yet. "He is barely alive." She touched her talisman with her other hand; the silver light was pulsing unevenly. "His heart beats in time to this."

Brandon crouched near his companion, hovering his hand over Rai's thin chest before he realized that using Light to heal him would likely cause his death. He ground his teeth. "...Softstep. I can't heal him, but maybe you can. That talisman of yours... he's feeding off your spirit to stay alive. Can you put that magic in his body?"

She gave him an apprehensive look, silvery eyes wide. "I... I do not know how." She looked down at the unconscious magician, worry creasing her face.

"Brother," Erick called, meandering closer, his thumbs hooked into his belt. "We don't have time for this."

Brandon turned slowly, eyes flashing. "We? There hasn't been a 'we' in years," he snapped. "Get out of here. Unless you're an outcast, in which case I really won't hesitate to grind your face in the dirt if he dies."

Erick raised a brow. "You care about a black magician's life?" he scoffed, both skeptical and incredulous at once. He drew back a pace when Brandon rose and took a threatening step forward.

Lhafa studied Rai's lax face, slowly laying one hand flat on his chest. His body didn't move, but he was breathing still - air passed his lips. She didn't know how to heal, or how to move magic. But she could relax her defenses and allow him full access to her spirit. She could only hope it would be enough.

"Why are you here, Erick?" the ex-paladin snarled, glaring down at the other warrior. The two men were similar in build and height, but Brandon was barely larger, and he used the difference to loom. "What do you want? Jubagh isn't a place someone like you would willingly go."

Erick sighed, then smiled tightly. Discreetly, his hand curled around the hilt of a sword slung at his hip. "Remember when the Father formally exiled you? You should have stayed to listen to the prayer, instead of stalking off in a huff. You missed the line that said we had the right to call you back and put you to work if we ever needed to." He paused, smile fading. "...without reinstating you in the Order."

Brandon deadpanned. "Too bad I'll never get that order."

"...you won't?" Erick blinked, caught off-guard.

"No." The exile glanced over his shoulder as Rai slowly sat up, Lhafa supporting him; her eyes were alight with magic, and Rai's red-and-black markings seemed tinged with silver. Quietly, he moved to lend a hand, not releasing the magician's thin arm until he could stand without wavering.

Erick peered at them, puzzled. "Why not? I--"

Brandon leveled a scathing glare at him, his eyes glazing golden as he raised a hand and the smell of lightning filled the air. "Because the messenger is going to get killed before he can give it to me."