Post: Stray feathers
author: Emily, ed. by Teri/Ian/Stana
Date: Wed, 16 Jun 1999 17:52:52 EDT

***
Estela felt the five presences a second too late to warn Stana. And on
hearing her scream....an echo of what she'd felt in the escape from the
Aoli came to her. She felt herself go hard and cold, ready for battle,
as she
fell into a defensive crouch....and adjusted her powers. She felt the
power in
her deepen as she concentrated everything on the moment. She set her
left hand
on the sword, her stance closer to one for karate than the awkward
stance of a
fencer. This wasn't a fencing sword. "Invisible lightsaber" practice,
in
her imagination since she was a child, would have to serve, though the
practice
at defending would be a help.

"Well well," she heard Grib sneer, listening with her eyes shut as she
mentally marked off the positions of the others, "When I was ordered to
kill
the Chosen, I had expected something more."

Anger flickered through her, and her crouch deepened another
centimeter. No
way in all the hells she'd let them kill her and her friends.

"Who the hell are you?!" demanded Teri. Above them, the ceilling gave
another
lurching groan.

"My name is Grib, and it will be my name that I will carve into your
rotting
carcass." He drew his sword, and four other forms began stepping out of
the
shadows.

Stange men she could handle...but her eyes snapped open to look as the
minotaur Relgarth stepped foward. She barely noticed, even with her
senses up
to cover the whole room, the last form slinking along in the shadows.

She felt it when Grib took the book....heard the laugh, and then the
command.
"Kill them."

Her eyes glazed as she fell into a sort of battle trance. And in a
sweeping
movement, she brought her sword up just in time to block the business
end of
a quarterstaff before it smashed against her face. Il-Dalun back
pedalled,
Estela's counter strike missing him by inches. She was still aware of
the
others, but only vaguely, just enough to tell if something critical
happened.

The sounds of the rest of the battle faded from her ears, only half
heard.
All her attention focused on Il-Dalun, his every move, every shift of
weight,
clear to her in her intense focus.

Parry, parry, parry, riposte...he was fast and had an unfamiliar
weapon. But
she could feel the preparation of every strike before he moved. For all
that
most of her time was spent on defense, she was untouchable. She
saw/felt
Il-Dalun's eyes narrow in surprise at her unexpected skill. But he was
skilled too....she was having trouble getting close, let alone hitting
him.

She felt him starting to accelerate his movements, trying to make her
desperate. She spun all the way around under a strike too vicious for
her
strength to counter, sword streaking up to draw blood at his side. She
knew
things were going on around her, dimly she felt Sira go down...but she
also
knew that any shift of attention, any time wasted on triumph would kill
her.

Her breathing was starting to get tight, even with a little telekinesis
to
help her. She was only good because of her powers...Il-Dalun was good
for
real.

Striking, striking...moving fast in her concentration. His strikes were

increasingly becoming near-misses as he picked up on her style...she
felt the
spikes of the staff all but brush her skin. But he was open. Another
strike,
another. Blood flowed out over the tattoos on his shoulder, his hip,
his
side. It was slowing him, but it didn't seem to worry him. Fear started
to
seep through her. Her exhaustion was starting to slow her, too.

No. No. She wouldn't die at the hands of scum like this. Wouldn't let
her
friends die. Anger came up in her, just enough....A vicious upward
slash cut
the necklace of teeth. Little noises sounded as they fell to the
floor...and
Il-Dalun took several steps back. That DID seem to bother him, even
more than
her skill had. Good. She had her chance. A gesture of her left hand,
leaving
only her right on the weapon...and Il-Dalun's flew from his hand,
against the
wall.

She brought her hands back to the weapon. She knew Stana was down, the
unicorn was...the bubble around Shinji weakening. But no time for that.

Il-Dalun came toward her again, hands held like claws. She danced
aside,
several times. Did she want to kill an unarmed man?

She felt Grib go down, the unicorn rise with Stana's help. The bubble
was
down by now too, Shinji was...somewhere, but she didn't have time to
check,
as she brought the flat of the blade down on Il-Dalun's arms. He had to
be
completely enraged to be going after her all unarmed.

Something...what was that? Another unicorn, faint, almost not there.
The
Minotaur went down. The unicorn vanished, Stana went down, but was
alive. She
knew Teri was weak by the way she stood. The book was on the ground,
Clip was
injured...Shinji was...somewhere, a dangerous condition for him to be
in...and she was way the hell over here. There was no choice. Il-Dalun
had to
die.

She let the anger focus through her, cutting off the sick feeling in
her
heart. No choice, no choice. To save them. Both hands tightened on the
sword
and she lunged fowards. He raised his hands to block her, tried to back
away....exhausted though she was she reached out once more. Her
strength
was insufficient to hold him....but it slowed him down.

And her blade pierced his heart, straight through. She heard him make a

choked sound as she pulled it free. He collapsed, dead, as she
straightened.

Her senses refocused, her eyes opening. Grib and Stana were unconcious.
Sira,
Il-Dalun, and the minotaur were dead. Teri and Clip were concious but
weak,
though Clip looked like he could still hold his own. Shinji...was
outside the
range she was using. And a figure by the wall.....moving fast...

She called out a warning, but too late. The theif Lokos dove foward,
knife in
hand. The shrill cry of a child rang out as the theif dove. "The book!
Get
the book!" The
castle shuddered, worse than before. An alien presence seemed to
animate the
walls of the fortress, the shuddering and heaving of the walls were its

anxious, waking breaths. Two other forms, strange and alien were making
their
way into the chamber now littered with bodies. The theif's knife
vanished
into his sleeve and he snatched the book, rolling under the thrust of
Clip's
horn. On standing, he scuttled from the unicorn, raising the book
triumphantly. "For the Ghanril!" he cried, laughing as he quickly
dodged
Clip's advances.

An answering cry echoed from a weak form pushing itself to its feet.
Grib
responded, "Rally for the Ghanril!" as he quickly gained strength along
with
his consciousness.

"The chaos bringer!" shouted the eerie duo now circling the room. The
cry had
the sound of challenge- it was clear that the two names were not the
same,
and though working together, the strange Nachtmer creatures did not
follow
the same master as the humans. Estela ran, bloody sword in hand, toward
the
fleeing thief.

The other two forms laughed, harsh sounds. Her breath burned in her
lungs as
she tried to catch up. Nothing else for it. She lunged, beating her
wings
frantically. She felt the sword plunge into the theif's back as she
tackled
him. And then she felt something else. Cirrus's hands became claws,
wicked
and long.

He was there, beside her, above her, all at once. Her wings were still
beating. There was no time to dodge, to move. Claws ripped through the
wings,
shreding them entirely. She screamed in agony as bloodied feathers flew

everywhere. She collapsed to the ground, sobbing. Pain, rage....she'd
failed.
NO. A blast of power ripped Cirrus's form to bits. He reformed
again....but
only in time for Clip's alicorn to run him through, destroying him in a
flare
of light.

The castle shuddered again, rumbling. Cumul snarled. The theif had
fallen
on top of the book, Estela just to his side. Cumul leapt away before
Clip
could impale him as well.

No one noticed the remains of Cirrus slowly pulling together under the
think carpet of mist.
***