Title-- The Demon-God of Jubagh (part twenty-one)
Rating and Warnings-- PG; mild language and some violence.
Cast-- Rai Gerring, defected black magician (human man); Brandon "Exile" Styhan, exiled paladin-warrior (human man); Lhafa Softstep, possessed spirit warrior (baghan woman); Erick Glessen, paladin knight-exemplar (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, Part Nineteen, Part Twenty.



"We have exactly two options. Three, if we're lucky." Brandon rose unsteadily, waving off Rai's offer of help. "Let Erick up, Rai. They'll probably blame you for him being out anyways, but better not piss 'em all off at once." The shadows faded from the fallen knight. "Alright, option one: you and Softstep take off and save the world while I get my ass hauled off on some suicide mission. That'd be ugly for you two. Option two: we fight 'em and try to survive so we can go off and fight the hexers and save the world. They'd focus on killing you, Rai. Softstep and me might make it, but you probably wouldn't. Not in a battle of Light."

The black magician nodded quietly. "I doubt Lhafa and I could kill the summoners on our own, as well. There are quite a few." He made no comment as to the likelihood of his own survival if he fought Lightworkers.

"Option three: we convince 'em to wait until we kill some hexers, with the promise that I'll cooperate after the battle. But... if Erick ain't goin' for it, I doubt his buddies will."

"Who are the men we're up against, Brandon?" Rai asked.

"Three paladins. I think one's a priest-type, but the other two are probably warriors, like me... er, like I was, at any rate. There might be others with them who aren't Lightworkers. Can't tell." The exile glanced around. "Kill the shadow-weave, Rai. It's not going to do us any good."

"...I'm an idiot for not fleeing for my life right now, you know," the magician murmured as the shroud of darkness dissipated, leaving them bare to the baghan jungle.

"I know." Brandon grinned again, all tooth and no smile. "You gonna quit being stupid and make a run for it?"

"Of course not," Rai scoffed, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Lhafa lifted a hand and clicked her hooved fingertips together to break into the conversation. "There may be a fourth option. How close are they?"

Brandon shrugged. "A mile off, when I checked. They won't be racing, but they won't be dawdling, either. A brisk jog, maybe."

She smiled, an expression too similar to the paladin's wolfish smirk for his tastes. "We could race to engage the summoners in battle. These men were once your allies, were they not? Would they not help you, if they saw you fighting for your life?"

He looked thoughtful. "Y'know, that might just work. Rai'd still get killed, though." He couldn't hide a scowl at the thought. "And, hells, you being a native, Softstep, you'd be in danger, too."

"I've fought Lightworkers dozens of times before, Brandon." The magician smiled thinly. "I can escape with my life, if not my hide intact. And I can likely help Lhafa escape, as well." His smile faded. "So much for my intentions to stick with you through your exile, though."

"Hells, I'd be back here, if I don't get killed doing whatever they want me to do..." Brandon glanced at Erick as the knight stirred with a muffled groan. "Time to go!" He sprang into a hard run, one hand on the hilt of his stolen sword to keep it from slapping his leg. Rai followed as quickly as he could, and Lhafa swiftly took the lead, bounding onto another baghan log-and-bough pathway.

"There will be magical barriers if they are going to perform the ritual soon," she called back to them as she lead them deeper into the woods. "The wards will kill any who are not holy men or spirit warriors."

"Well, we should be fine, then," Brandon panted, a predatory grin splitting his face as his eyes lightened to yellow. "We fit the bill. We're all magic-users. Kinda wishing I knew more protective spells, though..."

"You and me both," Rai muttered, clutching his robes up to his hips and trying to ignore how ridiculous he looked while sprinting along a rotting log. To his credit, his balance and traction were good in his slipper-shoes. "Lhafa? Should I cloak us from baghans? Will there be tribesmen between us and the summoners?"

"Yes, and yes," she called back, not even breathing hard as she hopped from log to a wide, low-hanging tree branch. "They have good aim with spears. We do not want to have to dodge while running." Shadows reached out from the canopy and the undergrowth, coalescing around each of them like a cloud of smoke.

"I should warn you both," Rai panted, "that we'll be able to see each other, but it'll look strange. No real time to explain, just... it's an illusion, alright? Have to do this so that we don't disappear from one another's view. No one else will see us."

"Alright, alright," Brandon growled, swinging himself over a perpendicular bough before thumping solidly back on the pathway. "Softstep, remind me to teach you about real roads someday. Like ones that go on the ground. Dirt paths."

"They are overrated - hard to keep cleared of greenery," she called back blithely, "and they leave tracks far more easily than bark."

The dark shroud finished congealing around their bodies, and Rai smiled faintly when he saw Brandon jerk in surprise. Lhafa didn't look back at them, so she'd have no reason to miss a step in shock. His shadow-magic concealed their physical bodies, but he'd given them soulsight to be able to see each other. Souls don't often resemble their bodies - Lhafa looked like a silvery wraith, hooves and a tail and a long, flowing mane the only things identifiable. Brandon, had he looked at himself, would have seen a shadowy, bestial creature with claws of white fire and savage golden eyes.

"Face front and focus on running," Rai told the paladin sharply. "Marvel later." He didn't want Brandon to turn back, to glimpse his own soulform. The soul's shape was determined by past and present, by situation and mood, and even by latent potential - it embodied everything a person had been, was, and could become. That sort of insight was too personal to be freely displayed, even if he could see them both now.

Rai spread his soul's crimson wings and allowed the shadows to let him fly.