Title-- The Demon-God of Jubagh (part twenty-five)
Rating and Warnings-- PG; mild language.
Cast-- Rai Gerring, defected black magician (human man); Lhafa Softstep, possessed spirit warrior (baghan woman); Kerrek Rockhide, dead holy man (baghan man); various Lightworkers (presumably human men).
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, Part Twenty-Four.



She was puzzled when the robed man vanished from her hearing, and she listened carefully for a clue until heat warmed her back and she realized that he'd moved past her already. The trail he left behind reeked of fire and ash. She turned, hooved fingertips brushing the bark of her path, and rose carefully, one hand above her head to keep from knocking into other branches. It would be quicker to move on the baghan path, albeit more dangerous. But she would not encounter a tribesman or any traps so deep within Tarblade lands, and the potential hurt from a ten-foot fall was not that great to her.

In her head, the Rockhide was laughing uproariously, howling with maddened glee. She didn't pay him much mind, carefully navigating the bough with aid of her tail and hands until it ended and presented her with guesswork. There would be a bough nearby, either higher or lower, or a log some five or six feet below, or perhaps a boulder within leaping distance. A finite number of options, but she could spend minutes figuring out which was the case.

Holy one, she directed at him, trying to hold the exasperation from her voice, try to be useful. Do you know a way that I can find the path more quickly?

He stifled his laughter only briefly. To do what, woman? Get to the battlefield and get speared by the first spirit warrior to see you? To make a show of light from your talisman before you get struck down by someone with real power? He cackled. Why should I help you move so quickly towards your death, when I'll die as well?

She sighed through pursed lips, crouching at the end of her branch. She wasn't going to let the loss of her sight so thoroughly cripple her; with the holy man still living in her mind, she could not let herself panic or weep over her misfortunes. It would be shameful to both of them. If you help me get there, she finally stated, I will help you get out of me and into the body of a spirit warrior. A smile played at her lips. You would be able to kill me, as you wished.

His laughter died. You are seeking death! Why not just hang yourself? Why bother trying to find me a body when you know I will end you with it? He was half-shrieking the words, using volume to hide his confusion and his helplessness. She had already figured out why he was so loud, and it had ceased to bother her.

Because I do not think you can kill me, even with another body more fit than mine now is, she replied calmly. Offering him a challenge to his competence ought to rile him up. Help me find the path, and you'll have a new body. With a spirit warrior under your control, you will be able to get close to one of the holy men and take his body, next. It will be a chance for revenge for you.

The Rockhide was quiet for a long moment. Very well, he finally relented. There is a way to see the spirits of things, instead of their physical bodies. Even the spirits of rocks and trees. Do exactly as I say, and pray that the spirits are kind to your pathetic attempt to witness their light, he sneered.

She followed his instructions, scraping symbols in the bark with her fingers, reaching up to gather some of the gore from her ruined eyes to paint in the furrows she gouged. Tears normally suffice, he had remarked with a mocking laugh, but blood will have to do for you. She didn't mind; it didn't hurt. The holy man had healed her and taken the pain away. All that was left was drying blood and tattered flesh - she couldn't feel any of it.

When she was done, she waited patiently, fingertips stained. The success of her ritual was gradual, spread over a handful of minutes - lights fading into view all around her, a color slowly imbuing each point of radiance, and then each light taking a shape. There were no shadows or lines, in this version of sight - all lights, all blurring and overlapping, all seeming very close. All around. She could see everything at once: up and down, forward and back, right and left. Her sight didn't seem to be centered in what was left of her eyes, either, but rather her chest - she could see the silver-white glow from her own body and limbs. She would have to learn very quickly how to judge distance between herself and the spirits, and learn to adjust to her sight not being in her head. The world was a field of colored light wrapping entirely around her.

Noise and muttered conversation intruded on her observations of the spirit realm. The voices were quiet and smooth, but they were not speaking the baghan tongue or any dialect she'd ever heard, and the speakers stomped through the undergrowth, rather than running the baghan paths.

The other outlanders. She had to move.

Slowly, quietly, she straightened and stood, relying on her body to balance itself against the unnerving sight granted to her. The differences in color made the lights distinct, but the differences were often so faint that she wanted to squint to better make them out. The shredded muscles in her eyes were unresponsive to the urge. How long will this sight last, holy one? she asked, moving a hand and tracking its glowing form, then reaching up to what seemed like a close, thick, green spirit. Her palm thumped against a bough that angled away from her.

Not long, he responded, unusually somber. A matter of hours. Less, if the spirits decide they dislike you after all.

Her other hand found the bough, and she dug hooved fingers into the bark to pull herself up. You seem sad, she commented, gathering her legs under her and standing again. She walked slowly, watching the entire world move around her like a dizzying dream.

I did not expect the spirits to accept your offering and let you see them, he muttered bitterly. You are a woman. Proper ritual or not, the spirits should have shunned you.

She sighed, then twitched an ear as the outlanders drew closer. The drum of their feet on the earth was brisk and relentless. Perhaps being a woman does not offend the spirits, she replied. Perhaps it is the heart that matters, not the sex.

A shout rang out; they'd seen her. Out of habit, she twisted to face them, unnerved that her point of view didn't change at all. Three of the five glowed brilliantly in shades of golden; another was reddish, and the last was bluish-green. One of the golden ones was brighter than the rest. Time to die! the Rockhide announced with relish. He began muttering a prayer in his own dialect so that the spirits would receive him as one of them.

Perhaps it is the heart... she repeated to herself, spinning to face her new pathway again. They would kill her as they had the other baghans - they could not tell the difference between strange baghans anymore than she would be able to differentiate them, had she had normal sight. The brightest one seemed to move closer, speaking a language she could not understand.

The lights of the world surrounded her, and all the shapes blurred as she flung herself forward in a reckless sprint along the pathway.