The Mother of Monsters

Yaga Yftha knelt down along the edge of the ridge, tall grass rising just above her head. The cool air had begun to urge the grass to blossom, turning the wildlands into a sea of brown and silver. She wore her warden’s colors, muted gray with a green sash marking her as a member of the eastern tribe. She narrowed her eyes, peering through the waving grains at the small scouting party that had come to a stop at the edge of the forest. A breath of movement to her right drew her attention and she glanced over to see one of her Lieutenants crouching next to her. The middle-aged male returned her gaze with a even stare.

“That bad?” She murmured.

“Yes,” He grumbled, “The humans approach in force, they’ve cleared the Green Sea as if it were a daily walk. The creatures of the dark are truly gone.”

She clicked her tongue, “I see, damn it Teyva,” She breathed, closing her eyes and shaking her head. She looked back at him, “The orcish settlement?”

“Razed, no bodies though, they must have fled ahead of the human’s approach.”

Yaga nodded and looked back up at the group of human scouts, she looked down at her hands and cupped them, whispering words into her palms before muttering a quiet spell. Her eyes fluttered shut and she opened herself to the Lord of the Open Skies, the great patron’s will washing over her. A nearby hawk cried out and darted into the air. She released the spell in her palms, letting the whispered word into the air and catch itself around the hawk’s neck. The Hawk darted overhead, rushing west as a faint green glow began to trickle off of its talons and feathers. The power of her aspect would carry the message back home. Osan would be ready. Without reinforcements from the elves, though. Her lips thinned into a line and she glanced again at the man next to her.

He nodded grimly and lowered his head, “We are the shield of the east,” He murmured.

Behind them, one at a time, over a hundred small voices whispered in response; “My grip is firm, my arm will not yield.”

Yaga rolled her jaw, hit and run tactics would be the most effective. The humans probably knew about the Wardens to some degree but she doubted they were entirely aware of every trick they had up their sleeves. It was possible she could recreate Teyva’s strategy against the Lydan, lure the humans into an encounter with a Rilk Queen. That would do for the majority though she couldn’t imagine they would march without having powerful aspect wielders at their disposal. She exhaled through her nostrils, “Did you see any notables?”

The man didn’t have time to respond as four figures ambled out of the trees on horseback. Three men and a woman. All of them wore simple but refined clothing. None of them wore any sort of armor. Yaga narrowed her eyes, trying to get a good look at their faces. Each of them bore some manner of war paint. Did the humans use war paint? Something wasn’t right here. They should fall back, slowly, but be ready for a fight. They could attack the human’s flank when they had a better opening and could avoid such an obvious trap. “Ready blades and fall back,” She whispered.

Each of the gathered contingent of Wardens rested their hand on their sword, a faint green glow rippling across the surface as the wind itself empowered the weapon with additional cutting power. They did not make a sound as they moved in reverse, each step cautious amidst the swaying grasses. She looked up one more time at the four gathered figures and froze. The woman was looking right at her, their eyes meeting. The woman’s lips curled into a smile and she said something to the others. Yaga’s lip reading was not great, but even then it was hard to mistake.

“And so the fun begins,” The woman had said.

A chill went up Yaga’s spine and she hissed out a change in order, “We are seen! Wardens! Protect the border! Encircle them, do not maintain engagement, retreat after your strike and maintain a harrying.”

The wardens parted behind her, darting left and right. In the instant she tore her gaze away from the woman to ensure her orders were obeyed, the woman had vanished. She looked up to the sky as a shadow came down from above her. The woman was in the air, her arms becoming like the claws of a beast and her eyes filled with the delight that came from bloodlust. Yaga threw up her own weapon and put her will into her Warden’s barrier. The clash sent her skidding back across the ground, the force sending a shock up her arm. Yaga whipped down her weapon and rose to a standing position, leveling the bestial woman with an even look.

“I’ve seen you before,” The woman said, “Yaga Yftha, right?”

Yaga’s eyes twitched but she had nothing to say to her attacker, instead she threw her hand out and raised her voice for all to hear. “Behold you faithful! [Lord of the Open Skies!]” She called, she would show no mercy to these invaders. The sounds of fighting began to rise into the air and she drew back, the glowing green light of the great Patron Being casting itself across all those present. The woman raised her arm to protect her eyes and in that moment Yaga engaged. She darted down and forward, using the aspect powers of the [Azar] to fortify her body and turn her into a paragon of her kind. 

The woman lowered her arm in time for her eyes to go wide with surprise, throwing out her clawed hand and trying to catch the incoming wind-powered blade. Above her, the great bird let out a terrible cry and threw out its wings, the winds of the wildlands roaring to life granting Yaga even more speed. The winds carried through the wardens who had gone to engage the other three as well as the army that was beginning to breach through the trees. She was confident that each of her wardens was worth more than ten human soldiers. Even if the other three were dangerous, they knew well enough to retreat when outmatched. This was a delaying tactic, not a decisive battle.

Her blade struck true, the edge cutting into flesh and drawing a cry of pain out of the woman who rounded with rage in her eyes and drove her other arm down and up, towards Yaga’s abdomen. Yaga’s barrier blossomed to life in an effort to protect her but it buckled almost immediately under the awesome strength the woman had at her disposal. She was hurled backwards, the winds of the Lord of the Open Skies catching her and spiriting her into a favorable spot a dozen yards away. Yaga moved faster, breathing the spell of speed and sending herself hurtling toward the woman who dove out of the way before rounding on Yaga with a cry that broke the wind and sent a wave of force across Yaga’s frame.

Yaga allowed the force to carry her, resisting it would mean more damage to her own body. She landed on her feet and whipped her sword out, an arc of green wind slicing the grass and reaching the woman before she had a moment to reposition. Cuts formed on her arms and chest. Snarling, the woman raised her good hand and a gout of flame erupted from her fingertips, the fire curling as if it were alive. Yaga held out her own hand and clenched her fist, wreathing wind around the flames and drawing the air out of them, snuffing them out. The woman changed tactics, driving her feet into the ground and fanning her arms out, her bloodied hand catching fire as a bloom of fire burst across the silvered grains. Smoke rose and coiled in on itself before forming into insidious darts. They rained down on Yaga only to be blown away by the Lord of the Open Skies who lunged down at the woman.

Yaga joined her patron, sensing the kill to come, she adjusted her stance and prepared for a forward lunge. Her blade struck but she felt no give. Her eyes went wide as the smoke cleared and she saw that the woman’s body had become metallic gold. The woman raised her head high, “I am Safira, Ascendant of Gold and Lion of Barom! Suffer, mortal!”

Her leonid claws burned with heat that sliced through the air, Yaga kicked off the ground to avoid the strike but felt the blades of heat pierce her leg. A wind from her patron attempted to save her but was cut off when the Lord of the Open Skies let out a shriek of pain, molten gold sticking to one of its legs. Yaga hit the ground, rolling and trying to get to her feet. Something wet splashed across her back and right leg, searing pain came next and she staggered. Her back was to her enemy and she could see only death in front of her. Warden bodies littered the ground among only a few humans dead. The other three that had come calling stood unmarred by the wrath of the shield of the east.

“We don’t need a hero,” Safira hissed behind her. “We’ll deal with your king on our own.”

Yaga tilted her head, feeling her heart go cold, knowing that feeling as icewater ran through her veins. She’d seen it briefly on Teyva’s face before. The mind chill, the cold heart, that moment of prescience and ruthlessness that both blessed and plagued those who nurtured their mana. She watched her men fight so bravely, with so much courage, all to protect their home. “You called yourself an ascendant, you are like the king then,” Yaga said, looking up to the sky, “I made you bleed, though. Inexperienced. Sloppy.”

“Excuse me? Look at your leg you-” Safira’s words were cut off as the wind began to howl.

Yaga turned to face Safira, “You play at mastering your aspects, but numbers do not beget mastery,” she said with her head held high. “Allow me to demonstrate what mastery means, little godling.”

The Lord of the Open Skies let out a cry that rippled across the field, even the men on horseback stumbled on their saddles. Soldiers fell to their knees, holding their heads. The last of the living wardens fought with renewed vigor. The glowing green fragment of the great being split apart, one becoming two. The first darted past Safira who threw up her arms to protect herself, a shield of molten gold warding off a presumed attack. Yaga opened her arms and welcomed her old friend, her patron’s fragment crashing into her body, its glow suffusing her, mending her leg and giving her newfound strength. Yaga rose above the woman, looking down on her. “One does not need a mountain of aspect shards to grow in power, one does not need variety, a sovereign aspect does not make you invincible.”

Safira’s arms fell and she looked up at Yaga only to jump when a terrible cry from behind her split her focus. Above the battlefield a bird of incomprehensible size rose higher and higher. It flapped its wings and with each beat the common soldiers on the ground were buffeted by the howling winds of a hurricane. The Patron Being of the Eastern Azar in all his glory rose high in the sky. 

Our convalescence will not last forever, dear Yaga. You may have mastered my aspect, but your body is not strong enough. A deep feminine voice reverberated in Yaga’s chest.

I know. It will be enough, I will take her with me at least.

And your Queen?

Yaga smiled, If I survive this, take me to her.

It will be done.

Yaga’s eyes went wide and she extended her hands outward, her jaw opening and a shriek ripped its way from her lungs. The cry of an eagle carving the ground beneath her and tearing its way towards Safira. The Ascendant spun, gold weaving its way around her and withstanding the blow only for the earth at her feet to be torn to pieces. She lowered the shield of gold and raised her fist, flames leaping from the earth and trying to grasp at Yaga’s feet. Yaga was gone in an instant, green wings of light carrying her so fast the air broke and a terrible crack of thunder crashed across their surroundings. Safira gasped as a hand armed with glowing talons wrapped around her face and pressed her into the ground, dragging her a hundred feet before ripping her into the sky and hurling her towards the clouds, cresting the trees and putting her in plain view of the top of the Great Tree..

Safira screamed, thrashing in the air as blades of wind crashed into her body, “I am Ascendant! A living god!” She snarled, gold forming at her feet and holding her aloft high above the ground. She spun and clouds of smoke burst from her arms, enveloping her and changing to a putrid color. “I am not alone either!”

“Are you sure?” Yaga’s voice rumbled. The great patron flapped her wings and the cloud of smoke was buffeted away, Yaga hung in the air above Safira, her glowing eyes wide with the madness that came with power. “Your allies do not seem moved to aid you, little godling.”

Safira threw her hands up and curled her fingers, a crack of thunder broke out and lightning lanced between her and Yaga. It crackled across Yaga’s chest, her wounds healing as fast as they could form. Yaga willed herself through the agony. She would not show this wretch any weakness. Safira’s arms fell to her sides, her eyes wide. “W-what the hell are you?”

“I am Yaga Yftha, Least of The Four and Guardian of the East!” Yaga bellowed, “If my power shakes your heart, then you will find hell itself at the gates of Osan!”

Yaga, hurry now.

Yaga covered her wince of pain with another powerful shriek and lunged at Safira. The human ascendant howled in defiance, conjuring a mass of molten gold to defend herself. Yaga threw herself at it, wind curling around her body until it pushed away the searing hot metal. She wrapped her hands around Safira’s throat. “Let your death be a warning,” She snarled and threw herself down, flapping her glowing wings and pushing with all her might. Safira struggled, clawing at Yaga’s hands, tearing her flesh and digging into her bones. Yaga bore her teeth as their velocity increased, it took almost four seconds for the pair of them to hit the ground accelerated by Yaga’s powers. A terrible sound punctuated the impact, bones collapsing in on themselves, dirt and rock being forced apart, and the terrible boom of the sudden stop itself.

When the smoke cleared, Yaga rose to her feet over the broken corpse of Safira. She spread her wings and let out a howl of victory, raising her fists to the sky. She turned to see if any Wardens yet lived but found only the dead waiting for her. Three human ascendant stood, fresh as if they had rested and feasted, waiting for her across the field of blood and smoke. Her wings faded and she felt her strength leave her as one of the men urged his horse forward a gleaming red sword gripped in his right hand. Her ruined hands bled, her right leg creaked and cracked, her spine groaned, but she kept her eyes on his as he drew closer.

She smiled at him as her vision clouded, “One down,” she wheezed. The man reared back on his horse as the powerful wings of her Patron sounded, the great bird darted toward her and snatched her up in her talons. The humans began opened fire with magic and arrows, trying to bring down the great beast but it was like ants biting at the heels of a man. Yaga tried to hold her head up but it was useless. She tried to bend her legs but couldn’t feel them anymore. She tried to draw breath but it hurt more than anything she could imagine. She rolled onto her back, the enormous talons of her patron shielding her from the storm outside.

“Am I dying, old friend?”

Not if I can help it. I will keep my promise.