Thunder rolled over the high desert even though there wasn't a cloud in the sky. The sun was low on the horizon, casting syrupy golden light over the dry waste. A scarred and rocky ridge shaded in ochre and run colors pushed its massive crest high into a sky unmarred, the failing light of late afternoon casting it in a surreal and beautiful light. Away to the west the ground dropped into a basin riven with ravines; ancient, dusty stream beds wound through these parched flats, all running south towards the edge of a deep gorge that was similarly waterless. Nearly so, anyway.
Across the webbed badlands was another complex of ridges that stretched away to the north and east. South, as if a giant had hewn at the land with a mighty axe, bother the ridge she took shelter on and the distant western bulwark bore the gash of an old river canyon.
Dust and smoke drifted on the brisk breeze coming out of the north, channeled in the valley between stone crests. It was as hot and dry as that coming off an oven, and now bore the unmistakable odor of brimstone. She stuck her head around the sheer stone wall she had fled to, quick enough to survey the route up the slope. A stone-headed arrow sent splinters of moca-flecked stone flying before she could pull back. Blood trickled from a shallow laceration thus caused.
Below her, she had seen three of the five remaining in the band. They were not bandits, though in this instance they had acted as such. They had something that belonged to her - must have it! - and she intended to take it back. Two of them had short, curved blades out, and the third bore the same manner of staff she herself had. She could feel the power radiating from the third creature. She had no idea what it was, anymore than the other, for all of them wore concealing clothing that betrayed nothing as to what lay beneath. Dark clothing, suited for work in the dark, not in the harsh light of day.
Luna allowed a ghost of a smile to touch her features. She was linked with the Beyond, channeling power that most men and woman could but dream of. It filled her veins with molten fire, suffused her with a drug-like ecstasy that could probably only be matched by sex, if then. It made her feel powerful, unstoppable.
This was an illusion. She was strong, oh so terribly strong in her wrath, but still mortal. Even the power itself could kill her if she was not careful, and had nearly done so on so many occasions as to be ridiculous. There had been no one to teach her the path she now walked; her mother had perished at her own hands. Kerry had begged for death, given her the weapon that she had used to take her own mothers life. It had been necessary, and she felt only small pangs at it if anything at all anymore. But her mother was the only one who could have - would have - trained her. The usage of the Beyond, the Art as it was known to the Sidhe, belonged only to that people and no other.
She felt power stir, the air quiver as sorcery was worked. Luna darted from her position of hiding, ruddy brown hair streaming and skirts snagging at her leg as she moved. The spell quickened, and with but a thought a shimmering shield flashed into life behind her. A moment later, thunder rolled again, and a force slammed into her back hard enough to lift her from her feet. Shards of Stone struck the shield she had made, making it ripple with every piece. Some still got through, though they missed her. The shimmering collapsed behind her, overwhelmed with the force directed upon it.
She hit the ground hard, bit managed to scramble to her feet in a moment, leaving behind skin from her palms and elbows. Behind her, part of the cliff crumbled, and then collapsed in a spray of shattered rock and billowing clouds of dust. She was quickly engulfed in the cloud, and began to choke on it immediately, cognizant of that wellspring of power behind her. As far as plans went, this one was a disaster. She had killed two of them, but five of them remained. She had not seen the other two in some time, either. I wonder where the other tw-
Instinct saved her. Without thinking, she began to duck as a shape resolved itself out of the dissipating dust. Steel flashed in muted sunlight, and described a gleaming arc that would have intersected with her neck had she not dipped under it. In the next step, she drank of the glimmering pool of power in her body, and felt her miniscule strength surge. She spun, stepping swiftly inside the assailants guard. He brought the weapon back in, aiming to crush her temple with the hilt. She caught his sword arm, and slowed the incoming strike. Shockingly, she could not stop it, bit she was able to deflect it into his own chest. Along with three quick jabs into his ribs, done with blinding speed and precision.
The first two blows elicited a grunt; the third the grinding, crunching sound of bone giving way. With a sudden surge of adrenaline fueled strength, the swordsman was able to grab her by a forearm and fling her scant weight away, sending her rolling on freshly crushed gravel. She came to rest on her knees, forcing that reservoir within to form itself into threads, and then hastily wove as complex a design as any. Fire burst into life, a corruscatinf ball of fire that began to lurch forward as soon made.
It disippated into swirling embers and smoke moments before striking the broke-rib fellow, stirring the cowl and scarf around his (or her) face with a brief puff of hot air.
Damndamndamn. She got up on her knees, and a booted foot caught her in the middle, bowling her over backwards and driving the wind from her lungs. Gasping, she wove again. Heat, incredible, burning heat radiated from her like a volcano, flickering tongues of orange sputtering around her. Her dress smouldered, adding fresh marks of char around the edges as the blastfurnace heat built. Once again, she found her magic harshly severed. Not soon enough this time, though, for the creature that had kicked her and was about to finish her with a sword thrust was flailing on the ground, his clothing alight. An unearthly sound split the air: the sound of a woman being burned to death, shrieking and shrieking. The cries of pain cut off abruptly.
Luna didn't stick around. She knew enough not to give up the high ground, and so she darted back up the hill to the smoking remains of her previous refuge. Another of the survivors leapt forward as she ran towards him, steel gleaming wickedly in his hand. A palm directed outward, and a hurricane force gale of wind thrust him and the remaining dust aside like leaves. She reached relative safety, and began to work her way through the tumble of boulders, trying to scrabble up the runoff ravine to the next level of the ridge. Behind her, harsh voices growled commands to one another. Why they bother chasing me is beyond me...take your losses and run! Except they had the advantage and knew it.
She had a suspicion that they were not supposed to leave any survivors, and wondered why that would be. Power thickened the air around her, another spell quickening. She cut it to ribbons with her mind, tearing apart the flows of magic that made it work.
It was going to be yet another of those days, and she had brought it on herself this time.
