Title-- The Demon-God of Jubagh (part twenty-four)
Rating and Warnings-- PG; mild language.
Cast-- Rai Gerring, defected black magician (human man); Brandon "Exile" Styhan, exiled paladin-warrior (human man); Lhafa Softstep, possessed spirit warrior (baghan woman).
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, Part Twenty-One, Part Twenty-Two, Part Twenty-Three.



Brandon's voice was gravelly and low when he spoke next, tendrils of half-tangible light flickering against his skin. "C'mon, Rai. Time to burn." He turned towards the distant summoners, eyes wholly golden. "How far?"

Rai clung to self-control like a lifeline, trying to suppress the raging emotions that shook him to the core. It wasn't working. "A mile off... a mile and a half, maybe," he responded through clenched teeth. He averted his eyes from Lhafa's tall, proud form making her way towards the battleground-to-be, but the fury fanned by her mutilation burned within his chest. The inked symbols on his skin were glowing hotly as though the branding was fresh again.

"We move," Brandon uttered, throwing his muscular body forward into a headlong run. Filled with Light, he moved in great bounding strides and passed Lhafa swiftly, headed arrow-straight for his goal and ignoring the pathways.

The black magician didn't follow immediately, anger serving as fuel until he forgot he had been wearied by breaking the barrier at all. There were shadows everywhere, calling him, asking to be taken and twisted and used to kill. He remembered the last time he'd heard them all like this. It had not ended well. For anyone.

Quietly, he caught up with Lhafa, his skin burning. "Lhafa. I won't try to stop you... I think I'm getting used to your stubbornness." He smiled, despite himself, as she simply nodded without breaking stride. "But the men following us... I don't want them cutting you down while your back is turned. I can't cloak you against Lightworkers, either."

"My back would not be turned," she murmured. She stepped carefully over a small log. "I will hear them."

"Will you hide until they pass, then?" he asked, matching pace with her.

"I will, yes," she agreed calmly. "Then I will continue." The ghost of a smile curved her lips briefly, and she lifted herself gracefully onto a low-hanging bough. A baghan pathway crossed the ground-level path they'd been walking. "But I do not think they will catch up with me." She tilted her face down at him, ears twitching minutely as though she were tracking the rustle of his heavy robes and the sound of his breathing. "Go. I will not be long."

He had to focus on keeping control. The shadows begged, and the sight of Lhafa's blood-smeared face, the scorched strip of cloth concealing her ruined eyes... "Be careful," he whispered raggedly, then cloaked himself so that his soulform could spread burning wings and fly.

It felt like he was fleeing, but he knew all too well that the devastation to come lay ahead of him, not behind. Lhafa's blindness was not his fault, or Brandon's, or even the hexers that he was going to kill. They all took risks in running so recklessly to the heart of danger, and she was merely the first of them to pay. She had been outcast from her tribe to begin with, and she had shattered the social castes with her discovery of her own power. She would not have a place with any baghans any longer. Perhaps it better that she was blind; she might die an honorable death in the upcoming battle and not have to suffer through life as an exile, like himself and Brandon.

He knew all of these things. Thought them, logically, in his reasoning mind. But they made no difference as his fury set his soulform ablaze and burned a blackened path through the undergrowth and trees. He didn't believe logic. He didn't care about the odds. He was pissed and people would die.

Brandon didn't turn as he heard raucous cackling not too far behind him; he knew the harsh noise and remembered it, somewhere in the part of him that still held loyalty to thought over action. He didn't care - he was moving, and nothing was going to stop that--

Another barrier.

Cursing ripely, the exile skidded to a stop, staring at the darkly gleaming construct with hatred. "RAI!" he bellowed, lifting a hand already engulfed in white flame. "BURN THIS!" His voice echoed like thunder against cliffs, reverberating through the forest; holy fire splashed liquidly against the shadowy barrier. Smoke began rising with a steamy hiss.

The magician abruptly appeared at Brandon's side as though he'd stepped out of the air itself; shadows writhed at his feet and the light radiating from the paladin shied away before it could touch him. He, too, lifted a hand, and red flames joined the holy fire in eating away at the magical ward.

"Don't get tired this time," Brandon growled as the barrier began to buckle. He planted his feet firmly, legs braced, as though his efforts were physical and not purely magical. The sweat that beaded his face and shaven skull evaporated quickly in the heat.

Rai didn't answer, lifting his other hand and letting shadows join the fight against baghan magic. He murmured a few words under his breath; the darkness and red fire combined into an almost-recognizable shape that raked hot-iron claws against the barrier until it shredded and began to dissipate in a shower of dark, glinting ash.

The paladin stared. "...demons?" he asked, his mind briefly surfacing past the battle-lust. He had nearly forgotten that some black magicians could summon and control demons. It was one of few areas that their magic overlapped with warlockery.

Again, Rai didn't answer, the hood of his cloak hiding his face. He took a step forward and vanished from Brandon's sight. Within seconds, there came a raptor-like hunting cry some distance ahead.

"...shit." Brandon shook his head, then pushed the haunting silhouette from his mind and let righteous fury fill him again. Pupils vanishing in the yellow glow, he sprang into a run, much faster than before.

After all, a straight path had been newly incinerated for him.