The Tears of Kas̆dael

"Ride!" Naklāti snapped. Her horse surged forward as her spurs dug into its flanks, and she pulled the reins to the left, away from the mist-shrouded tavern, and down a smaller road that led out of the village.

The howls echoed behind her, shrieks and jabbers whose inhuman cadence sent a chill down her spine. She didn't know what was hiding in the mists, not exactly, but she had a pretty good guess.

The entire village had been slaughtered by the Bloodspiller, and while the Djinn had worked hard to find and bury the dead, clearly some had been missed - either that, or the mage had purposefully left bodies behind as a booby-trap. Yet, even as she urged her horse onward, the mist seemed to deepen and thicken, rapidly swallowing up the entire village and cutting the others off from view, save the closest to her.

"My lady, wait up!" Mārīl's horse was already frothing at the mouth as he pushed it to its brink to catch up with her thoroughbred. They were halfway down the street by now, so close to the edge of the village that she knew she ought to be able to see the open fields ahead. Instead, the mist had deepened, a gloom so deep that she could no longer see the farmhouses she knew they'd passed on the way in.

"My lad-argh!" As Mārīl's shout turned into a full-throated scream, Naklāti turned in her saddle, but she was too late to see what had happened. Mārīl's horse continued to follow after her, running faster now that a bloody gash was carved into its left flank, but there was no sign of the guard. Selene preserves us.

Whipping back around, she pulled on her essence, and her horse picked up its pace as she funneled the essence into it. Another hundred yards, she told herself, that's all we need, and a few seconds later, as a large dark structure loomed out of the mist before her, she felt a surge of relief. She had found the farmhouses; she was nearly out of the village.

Then she noticed the enclosed courtyard and the swinging sign outside the door. Horror flooded her soul as she realized she'd ended up back at the tavern.

"Kruvas̆!" The curse had barely passed her lips when a shadow blurred out of the mist to her left. Denying every instinct she had, she flung herself out of the saddle, narrowly missing the kick of her horse's hooves as it continued its pell-mell dash. The horse screamed as she hit the dirt, and its warm blood spattered her face as she rolled to her feet.

She caught her first glimpse of the creature, then, as it savaged her mount. The dead one had been just a child, no more than six or seven. It still wore a tattered floral dress, with its long, black hair spilling down its shoulders, but that was all that remained of the once innocent lass. Its eyes were gone, empty sockets where the orbs should have been, and yet it had no problem locating her.

Blood dripped down its face and off its elongated teeth as it raised its head to look at her, and primal instincts kicked in. Naklāti froze, like a deer facing down a tiger, unable to move as the creature climbed over the ravaged horse, as its bloodied talons clicked against the saddle.

Control over her body returned as it paused on top of the carcass to lift its head in a howl, and she reached for her sword. There was no point in running now. If her horse hadn't been fast enough to outrace the creature, she certainly wasn't going to outrun it on foot, and that was assuming she could even escape the mist without killing it. But as she leapt forward, preparing to thrust the sword through the creature's throat, she found the sword wouldn't budge. The sheath had been damaged in her fall, and the metal crimped tight around the blade.

There was nothing she could do but swing the sword, sheath and all, at the creature - nothing she could do but watch helplessly as it dodged with inhuman speed and pounced toward her, talons flared. But the corpse-child never hit her.

A blur of fire intercepted the creature, driving it into the ground, where a fierce struggle ensued. But Naklāti didn't stick around to watch their fight; regardless of which monstrosity won, she needed to be able to protect herself. Crouching behind her fallen horse, she banged her sheath against the ground, fighting with the crushed metal until it widened just enough to slip her sword free.

As she did so, a howl echoed behind her, and she whipped around, slashing the sword above her head as a creature leapt over her mount's carcass. Already mid-air, it was too late for the creature's inhuman speed to save it, and she skewered it on her sword, staggering as the sudden weight hit her.

She'd finally landed a hit, but the strike had been a mistake. Though her sword had pierced through the creature's heart with unerring aim, there was no blood pumping through those veins any longer. The corpse didn't even seem to notice its wound as its talons gripped her arms, tearing her flesh, as it slid further down her sword in a frenzied attempt to bury its teeth in her throat, its progress only halted when it got caught on the crossguard.

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Losing her balance, she fell on her back, somehow maintaining hold of the sword as the creature clawed and slashed at her chest and shoulders. She was outmatched in strength, but she wasn't out of tricks yet. As her essence flared, her sword glowed with the soft light of Selene's blessing, and with a scream of concentrated effort, she yanked the sword up and above her head, bisecting the creature's upper body.

That was enough to finally put it to rest, and with a pained groan, she shoved the suddenly limp form off herself, and fumbled at her side for a potion - but her bag wasn't there. With a groan, she remembered she'd left it on the saddle and rolled to her knees, crying in pain as the dirt and rock in the street scraped against her open wounds.

It was only a few feet away, but those few feet felt like an eternity, as she crawled toward her fallen horse, keenly aware of how much blood she was losing. Just…got…to…get-

Then a howl echoed behind her, answered by another and another in turn. She flung herself forward, fumbling for her bag, but the potion slipped through her bloodied hands and cracked against the rock. She pawed frantically at the pink liquid as it seeped into the dirt, but it was no use. The potion was wasted, and as the howls surrounded her, she knew she was out of time.

Determined to meet her fate head-on, she looked up in time to see three shadows emerge from the midst. An old man, a child, a woman still plump with the belly of a ne'er-to-be-born babe - these would be her killers. With a defiant cry, she raised her sword, struggling to her feet as they charged at her, but she already knew it was no use. But then the creature of fire reappeared.

It flew on wings of shadow, white flames billowing around it as it landed in the space between them. For a brief second, the corpses hesitated, casting glances at the mists behind, and in that moment, the being struck. Burning manacles erupted from the ground, binding the creatures in place as a stream of white orbs flooded from its extended palm. It followed after the orbs, unharmed by the fiery explosions that bombarded the dead as it swung an icy glaive back and forth.

In the blink of an eye, the foe had been annihilated, and as the creature of fire turned and stalked toward her, Naklāti let her sword drop. In her condition, there was nothing she could do to beat it in a fair fight; her only hope was to take it by surprise. Channeling what remained of Selene's grace to her fingertips, she lowered her head against her chest and waited for it to draw close enough to give her a chance. She tensed as the shadows were banished by its approach, preparing to grab her sword, but before she could strike, the being spoke.

"Hey, are you alright?" A wave of white light washed over her as it spoke, sealing many of the weeping wounds that criss-crossed her body, and she stared up at him in shock, all thoughts of catching the being by surprise forgotten. "Ya-Yas̆peh?" There had been only one fire-mage in her party, but the being's abilities had seemed so far beyond her estimation of his power, she hadn't even considered the possibility that it was him.

"That's me. Are you alright?" He repeated, extending his still flaming hand toward her, and sighing as she flinched away. "Go ahead, take my hand - the flames won't burn you."

There was little reason for him to lie, so she accepted a hand up, glancing down in wonder as the flames rippled harmlessly across her flesh. She'd heard of spells that selectively targeted enemies, of course, but it was usually the hallmark of a much higher-leveled mage than Yas̆peh - or, at least, higher-leveled than they believed him to be. Then again, it wouldn't be the first thing our reports have proven wrong on.

"Have you seen any of the others?" He asked, casually casting a second healing spell on her as he kept an eye on the mist still surrounding them. "What happened to your guards?"

"Mārīl is dead. I don't know about Ardūs̆ar; I lost sight of him as soon as the mist appeared."

"Damn it," he swore. "I lost track of the others, too. Ihra was ten feet away from me, and when I looked back, she was just gone. There's some odd magic to these mists, too; it kept looping me around back to the tavern."

"Me too," she admitted. "I don't know how we break out of this spell."

Yas̆peh frowned as he stared at the tavern looming behind them. "It's the tavern," he said slowly. "Whatever ritual the Bloodspiller set up, he must have anchored it in the tavern."

Naklāti had reached the same conclusion, but, without knowing the extent of the former mage's capabilities, it was hard to guess what might lie in wait for them. "What if it's just another trap?"

"It probably is," he agreed, "but do you have a better idea? The only other option I can think of is to try hunting down all the corpses; maybe the mist will break once we've put them all to rest. Of course, it would be pretty damn hard to find them in this crap," he added, waving at the gloom around them.

Naklāti had not fared so well fending off the fiends on her own, but it still seemed a safer option than braving the likely booby-trapped tavern. "That sounds like a-"

Her sentence was interrupted by a hoarse yell, a perfectly human yell, as the fence on the far side of the tavern splintered. Yas̆peh was already running by the time the person hit the ground, a purple axe tumbling out of his arms as a small horde of the creatures pinned him down."Child of Fury." As the flames around Yas̆peh billowed anew, he leapt into the fray, spreading fire and mayhem to all he touched, save for the durgu trapped beneath them. Naklāti ran to help, her sword pulsing with a silver light as she sliced it through the torso of the nearest corpse, but the fire mage took most of them out himself, and with another flick of his wrist, sealed up the wounds on the fallen warrior before offering him his hand. Oh, great, the mind mage.