Remnant of the Aether

[Lord_S_Gray]

Chapter 36 — The Warrior, the Witch and the Matriarch —  The Realm of Ichor and Blood — Part 3

The Varangian

He stalked along the edge of mountain, effortlessly jumping from crag to crag, each barely large enough to land a toe upon.

In the shadowed mist of his mind he knew he had done this many times in another place of mountains and forests.

He watched the caravans below as they entered the market place carved into the mountain side, eyes sweeping in time with the Arts to detect any trace of a threat to the Queen.

Simmering beneath the surface of just over half of the inhabitants was the desire to lash out, to strike at the Queen…but the presence of the Reapers, and the Ichor green glow that emanated from the mountain within which the Queen renewed herself with the blood of the young kept them from doing so, if not his own presence.

For hours he had been on alert…in the distance he sensed something familiar but could not pin where…not in the swamps to the south, plains to the west and east, nor the mountains to the north…not in any of the tributaries or traders…

Then he looked up into the churning stars of the sky.

It was coming from above.

<<<<>>>>

Karintha

“There…” Karintha pointed as they assembled around the table screen lifted to standing height in the Strategium just behind the bridge.

“…is where the strongest aetheric presences are…”

After exiting hyperspace and noting the complete absence of any other vessels Karintha had insisted on scanning the planet using the Aetheric Nexus herself to pinpoint likely locations of the Aethan survivor who had called out to them.

“But the entire planet is saturated in power, it’s ebbs and flows vary by region, clustered where these tribes and clans likely live, anyone of them could by a valid location to search, though this mountain seems to dominate, its tendrils spread like a Kre-spiders web to the others in the aether…”

“Strange,” Ari noted “I thought the tribes were independent, yet it feels like there is some kind of hegemony,”

“And not an especially kind one,” Milaea added, they all felt the bitter aftertaste of fear and repression exuding from the planet below, this was a world rich in the aether, but ill of health.

“We should not approach directly,” Evaea suggested, “I would recommend we find a moderately sized settlement and pose as traders from another part of the planet and find out what we can about the political situation before making any enquiries,”

Karintha nodded
 
“A wise course, following our experience with Maekal, it is possible that the Person on this planet has taken a prominent role…they may be known by reputation….yet the power coming from the central mountain is clearly not of People…Yorna?” Karintha’s address broke her out of her thoughts.

“I was just thinking the same…that web of power over the others…it is familiar in a way, not generated by a Person, but it's similar to the effect Maekal’s Cult had on others, the control and coercion…we may be better placed contacting those not under this hegemony first…”

Her eyes narrowed on the holographic orb of Dathomir that radiated blue light across their faces.

“Correct,” Karintha agreed leaning forward,
“Here in the north there were a few places I sensed lacked the repression of the centre…anxiety was stronger,”

“Rebels perhaps,” Milaea suggested

“If so they will be slow to trust,” Ari noted

“Not if we introduce ourselves properly as you did on Galtea…not to the ruler of this mountain, but the True Powers of this world who can assist us far more than any mortal,”

“The true powers?” Milaea queried

“The Gods of Dathomir”

<<<<>>>>

Yorna

Toes tapped along as she waited for the ramp to descend, the statue held firmly against her rough home spun dress. 

It lowered and she lightly leapt onto the soil barefoot, dew covered grasses and moist dirt wetting her feet. 

Yorna cautiously moved toward the natural table of rock wetted by the dripping of a forgotten stream from the glaciers far to the west.

The location had been chosen carefully after a night time fly over in one of the Assault transports, this place was a nexus of Old Magicks and divine energies.

The shrine was overgrown and mossy, but retained deepness of time and echoes of power.  Based on their research Dathomir had once been home to ancient beings called the Kwa – though even the Jedi archives had little more information than the name – and after that human tribes for several millennia.  The formation into the current matriarchal clan based structure was more recent.

This shrine though, this Place of Power, felt older than all of those comparatively new arrivals, deeper even than the Shrines of the Goddesses on Aethas.

The shrine was a large table like slab cut into the mountain at waist height, and on the deep inset wall a water and wind smoothed mural of the two gods of Dathomir, while the carving had lost its sharpness to the ages, Yorna could see the overall shape that showed the Gods duality, male and female embracing and conflicting at once – creation and destruction balanced.

Gently she placed her own statue down upon the large table like slab, on it were a handful of small earthenware bowls with offerings long scattered about by weather or eaten by red plumed Veeka’s.

Caressing the figure of Aertemisaea, her image rendered precisely, bow drawn back her body clothed in flowing fabric that allowed maximum mobility as was fitting for a huntress, Yorna addressed the mural directly. 

“Winged Goddess!” She called out

“Fanged God! Deities of Dathomir!  I am Yorna, Daughter of the Three Goddesses of Aethas who I have brought with me that you might recognise them.  If you will have your children welcome and treat fairly with Us we will welcome and treat fairly with them!”

Already she could feel the eyes of Dathomirs daughters on her – they had made no secret of their approaching the early morning, moving slowly in the ship to allow the hunters and warriors time to follow them. 

Karintha wanted them to see and hear she was respectful toward Dathomir and its Gods, in that way the various clans would be respectful toward her People.

“We come here to visit, and learn and trade!” Yorna continued as her thermal sensory organs detected the heat of bodies amidst the alpine trees.

Summoning over her small pack with the aether she placed three gifts beside the statue, a bolt of hand spun cloth, dyed red, a heavily redacted hand written version of the People's history, and a handful of purple diamonds that vibrated quietly with the breezes of the aether.

Having thus introduced herself she jumped back onto the ramp as the ship ascended back up.

“Respectful,” Milaea noted at the pilots seat as they moved into the clouds,

“Hopefully the Dathomir gods know one of our Goddesses children is here and where to find them,” Yorna noted

“Through their children,” Milaea clarified
“Through their children,” Yorna confirmed

Yorna could feel Milaea was impressed with the more peaceful approach to making contact,

“I was also impressed,” Milaea added sensing her thoughts “On how you handled the situation with the Ketka, and Maekal before that….neither situation was easy but at least you limited the casualties as much as possible,”

“Thank you,” Yorna replied taking the empty co-pilots seat
“It is good to know what you think, to review our actions and tactics…too often it seems our relationships with outsiders has been overly antagonistic…not without reason…but based on the information Ari has about these witches I think we can become friends,”

“Friends” Milaea smiled pleasantly surprised
“I hope so,”

<<<<>>>>

Hours after leaving the first of the scouts tentatively approached the statue and the offerings. 

The woman’s introduction was not precisely in keeping with the tradition of the Dathomir clans, but it was respectful. 

The Clan Huntress, Aun Frost-Glade, scrutinized the image of the Goddess of Aethas even as a member of the Silken-Shadows approached to join her.

“What have the left?” the Silken Spider queried in the old tongue, fitting for such a place.

“Cloth for trade, a book for knowledge, jewels for decoration…”

“No…” the Silken Spider picked up one of the purple diamonds feeling the magicks pulse gently within.

“Not decoration…enchantments.”

<<<<>>>>

Yorna returned the same time next day with Karintha and Evaea, the statue remained untouched but the gifts were gone, in their place a pelt of rancor leather, a scroll and a totem infused with magicks. 

The trade had been accepted.

They sat upon the grass and waited.

<Success?> Ari thought across from the ship hovering nearby

<Success…we’ll wait till they make contact and let you know when it is safe to come down.> Karintha replied

Yorna leaned back and breathed in the aether and the air, it was similar to home in a way…less…warm perhaps, but similar enough they could use the aether here without needing time to adapt her connection to it in a substantial way.

“So similar…” Karintha noted Yorna’s thoughts,
She then turned to Evaea.
“I wonder though, is it because the aether is similar here or the way the People use the aether here is similar to us?”

Yorna pursed her lips in consideration, the difference seemed semantic yet held a deeper question – did the aether shape a People, or did a People shape the aether of a planet. A brief second later she recalled the answer, it was a question her Aunt had asked her many years ago.

Evaea remained in deep thought. Her aquiline features gazing with hard focus upon the grasses, then the trees, then the Shrine as the tension in her mind – loud as ever – perhaps the only thing that was not stealthy about the young woman – resolved her response.

“The answer is both, aether, Gods, flora, fauna and People grow and change together,”

“And what do sense of the relationship between these things here?” Karintha probed

“There is…a shift toward a new equilibrium, the power that dominates much of this planet is on an inexorable slow ascent, the Powers that were…the Gods that this shrine honours are in decline”

“And is this a good or bad thing,”

Yorna kept her senses between her Aunt and ‘younger’ cousin, Karintha as always did her best as a teacher by drawing out your own thoughts and opinions.

“Descriptors of ‘good’ and ‘bad’ are irrelevant - it is change,” Evaea finished

Soon enough they heard the faint movement of foliage to a human near undetectable, for People gentle but noticeable.

Finally appearing from the trees was a young woman with red hair and white painted face with blue warrior markings, her outfit seemed somewhat out of place in the alpine forest with furs better suited to tundra.

They all stood and bowed slightly in greeting as the woman stood tall before them.

“I am Aun Frost Glade of the Pine Forest Clan, I welcome Yorna Child of the Three Goddesses of Aethas on Behalf of the Winged Goddess and Fanged God, and thank her for the gifts of greeting.”

With a slight gesture of her hand Aun gave permission for Yorna to stand.

“And I thank you for your welcome here and introduce my Aunt Karintha and Cousin Evaea”

Yorna kept her curiosity in check not delving too deeply to sense the woman…Evaea nudged she sensed at least six others nearby suspicious of why this offworlder had come. 

They could all easily sense Aun was human, approximately 25 winters, had some innate aetheric ability but not enough to wield it in a focused way.

A brief silence passed layered with uncertainty, Yorna decided to break it.

“We come to learn and trade with your clans, and also seek one of our kin whom we lost many winters ago and believe may be on this world,”

“One of your kin?”

“Yes…we heard a call in the…magicks, or Arts as you may know it…that connects our People at the new moon,”

Aun had little talent in the arts beyond a nascent sense of imminent danger, what was true and false… Aun’s keening felt no deception from this Yorna, and her actions thus far were respectful.

“I do not myself know of any peoples claiming to be from Aethas here. Even so, you have no doubt journeyed a long way, you and yours are welcome to come to a place of Gathering where the wise women of these lands will be gathered tonight and ask them, there will be food and water to refresh yourself also.”

Yorna smiled

“We accept your invitation,”

<<<<>>>>

[Lord_S_Gray]

Chapter 36 — The Warrior, the Witch and the Matriarch —  The Realm of Ichor and Blood — Part 4

Karintha

The gathering place was the largest flat land the ravine could offer – bordered by large totems cut from whole trees, each of which painted and etched in a different manner.

The variety was stunning, each totem had at its base an animal, above them images of how the tribe lived, some featured hunters, fishers, a few craftswomen and framers, above them a number of images of women of various ages and outfits that must represent tribal ancestors, then a panorama of the land of the tribe with a sky above stars indicating its location dotted out carefully. Finally at the very top was the tribes totemic symbol.

Karintha could instantly tell many of the scenes and occupations could not be local, some showed wide plains, others icy steppes, a few even desert oasis…given how inaccessible these ravines were it could not be a usual meeting place…
 
She shared her thoughts freely across the aetheric bond with the other women, all seven of them were present, dressed in practical leathers rather than Mark 1 Oblivion Armour, they were not here to fight or make enemies, and the natural outfits easily fit in with those worn by the Dathomiri women.

Virtually only women it seemed.  Karintha spied the odd male when walking down to the meeting place carrying various loads and such, but none it seemed were permitted to entered the sacred place that the totems surrounded in a rough circle

Within were a number of grainy taught tents, again of different styles and makes, small circles of stone for fires in between.

Aun led them to the centre where a number of women of various ages awaited them, again their clothes were different reflecting vastly different native climates.

“Clan Mother Hri, Clan Mother Yzzerhera, Hetwoman Ianna, Chief Peola, Chief Knissa, I present visitors from the planet Aethas, daughters of the three Goddesses there,”

<A large number of leaders in such an out of the way place…so far from the centre of power we sensed…this is unusual> Ari noted mentally even as the last syllable passed Aun’s lips.

Each leader offered a greeting as unique as their outfits and appearance, Ianna a warrior in metal studded plate face tanned and scarred from the fields, Yzzerhera an aged stooped magi with dusky skin in voluminous but airy headscarf, Peola grey haired with hawkish eyes adept at overseeing many thralls, Knissa even more pale than the Aethans alabaster skin with ebony hair and a lithe frame.

 Karintha seized the initiative.

“Honoured Matriarchs I am Karintha of the Children of Aethas, with me are my nieces Yorna and Kiraea, kinswomen and friend Kassyndra and her granddaughter Milaea, cousins Evaea and Aresaea, we come in friendship, seeking trade, knowledge and in search of lost kin,”

One of the women, Clan Mother Hri stepped forward, she was a ways younger than the others, no more than 30 or so winters, she displayed the poised and commanding aura of a matriarch already perfectly combined in bright quick eyes that shone from amidst her white and black face paint, the curves of which accentuated her high cheekbones further giving her added height.

“You are welcome to trade, teach and learn in all fairness, please sit,”

The formalities over they introduced themselves about the talking circle more casually. Both sets of women from traditional cultures living with the land they soon found themselves in engaging conversations as other women served them foods that, though insufficient for Aethan nutritional needs still had a wholesomeness the artificial Chiss creations lacked. 

Within an hour as the first fires were lit Milaea and Ari were speaking with Clan Mother Yzzerhera about her traditions on Ichor distillation and consumption for visions of the future, Kassyndra and Evaea with Peola regarding their outfits, what plants and animals were used in their production and the meaning infused in each piece, Aun and Knissa explained to Yorna and Kiraea the meanings of the various totems while Karintha herself spoke with Ianna and Hri.

They began talking generally, Karintha thanking them for the hospitality, inquiring about the sources of the foods and their preparation, gradually she turned it to her real points of interest,

“It is a wide variety of dishes, you all come from many distant lands,” it was half question half statement

“These are the lands of the Whistling Caverns,” Hri explained,
“these are my homelands. The others have been staying here in the deep ravines as my guests,”

“A conclave or coven?” Karintha pressed gently

“Merely a convenient place to reside at this time,” Hri replied clearly unwilling to discuss the true reason for such variety of tribes yet,
“Tell me more of your kin you believe are on Dathomir,”

Karintha straightened up eyes focused on the two women, Hri despite her relative youth had a careworn face, Ianna a number of scars, she had seen fighting some years past, left arm limp with an old injury.

“We sensed a call from one of our lost kin fifteen days ago from this region of space, have you perhaps seen any women who appear like myself and my kinswomen, we are all of a similar appearance?”

Hri had certainly noted the only real difference between them was hairstyle, nonetheless they were all of a striking beauty, alabaster skin and light red to red brown hair, as if from a colder climate much like Aun Frost Glade, however such a beauty would not have gone unnoticed.

“None I am afraid,” Hri replied “you say your kin was lost, perhaps if you explain how, did they come here to trade like you?”

In a tenth of a second Karintha considered her options.  She could hear all the other conversations about her, feel the growing warm disposition between the natural allies of Aethans and Dathomiri Witches, truth would be her best course however painful.

“No…some years ago off world slavers raided our village and took many of our kin, killing more as we resisted, only recently have we acquired the means to begin searching for them in an effective way,”

Ianna glanced to Hri who had a better sense of these things than she did, Ianna was a warrior chief not a diplomat, her talents in the Arts were restricted to combat…for all the good that had done against the Varangian.

“I am sorry for your loss,” Hri consoled sensing no deception in Karintha’s words
“There has been much dislocation in recent years…even here,”

She glanced to Ianna who nodded,

“You asked why we are assembled here from distant lands…at the moment Dathomir is ruled by the Dread Queen Lykana, a Night Sister, wielder of dark magicks, her rapaciousness demands for tribute exceeding reason…when they fail to the consequences are…”

She paused briefly

“..enough to drive tribes and clans from their ancestral lands to merely survive, here in the ravines and caverns they can hide if not thrive…”

Karintha nodded, as she had Evaea learn just hours before connection to a Place, its Gods, Flora and Fauna was essential to her own sense of self, to have to flee from that place was to lose much of yourself to save the rest.

“I tell you this Karintha of Aethas because it means I have little to offer by way of assisting your search…even so I accept you and your kin as guests in my ancestral lands and my protection while in my borders.”

“Thank you for your Hospitality,” Karintha replied considering a fitting response
<Ari, Mili, how much do we have in the Persephaea’s stores of real food>
<700 litres of milk, 178 Kyala fruits, 42 kilos of Gromn jerky and some gopin mince> Ari replied even as she tinkered with a focusing amulet Yzzerhera was explaining made of Shard glass mined deep in the deserts.
<Can outsiders consume it?>
<I’d have to extract the heavy minerals first then dilute with water but yes> Milaea replied

“We have some food stuffs and medicine on our vessel we are happy to share with you,”  Karintha went on never missing a beat in the conversation so far as the humans were concerned

Hri was about to refuse, not Karintha sensed out of pride but because they did not trust republic technologies

“..not those of machines and manufacture, but those harvested from our own Valley and lands, herbs and leaves for salves, fruits and milks for nutrition.”

“That…would be appreciated,”

<<<<>>>>

Alwyn Hri

The night was one of rare happiness and excitement.

The off world visitors were curious and intelligent to a fault, nothing seemed beyond their grasp to understand, indeed Clan Mother Alwyn Hri wondered if they were even human such was their capacity to not just absorb information and deduce all she might have explained otherwise.

As the stars had come out and she had shown them the main constellations Yorna had instantly recognised and ascribed them to their associated tribes in attendance in the Ravine.

As it came to an end the guests were shown to a large tent to rest in while the leaders returned to her relatively more spacious tent.

“So what do you make of them?” Hri asked as Aun Frost Glade, the last leader entered, her keening of another’s truth was never mistaken.

“They are clever, intuitive, and honest, they seek their lost kin and to trade just as they have said,”

Hri nodded and turned to Yzzerhera, her sand scorched brown face etched with age beneath a traditional tight headscarf, though stooped with years she was the strongest among them with the Arts, a powerful Magi of the Desert.

Even now it was a sobering fact that Lykana and the Varangian had been able to overcome such a woman in years long past. 

Once the plains, mountains and northern lands were obedient to Lykana it was thought she would be satisfied. The tribes of the Desert and the equatorial jungles were scattered, small and fiercely independent, distant from the more temperate climes where the majority of the Dathomiri lived.

So insatiable was Lykana’s need for power she went far south nonetheless, forcing tribe after tribe to submit, hardening her armies of Reapers further with travel through desert and wet tropics, the Varangian at their head slaying Champion after Champion of those who resisted…

Few did in the end.  Yzzerhera had been one of the last, ‘old and stubborn’ to a fault she eluded Lykana for months by criss-crossing the wadis using tracks known only to her tribe.  Lykana returned to Blood Peak frustrated but left the Varangian with a single order – “Break them,”

Nearly two months later somehow he found them, falling upon their scouts with fury that turned the sand red with blood - Yzzerhera and her Magi could only pin him down with conjured sand storms and mirages as they fled north – but even these he would break through eventually, learning as we went and catching any stragglers in merciless vice like hands that shattered bone.

A mere rump of the tribe escaped over the Salt Seas to wind its way north, keeping off the roads, losing more of their people in the unfamiliar climate and against unfamiliar predators looking for a place to hide till they arrived starving and depleted in the lower Ravines.  There Alwyn Hri took pity on them and hid them.

They were the first but not the last who had fled to the maze of tightly packed cliffs and caverns to hide from Lykana, Aun herself came just after the Varangian had slain her mother and destroyed their village with what few other survivors she found hidden among the ancient pines.

“They are strong in the arts…a strength deep as the black rock that lies below the world’s sphere,” Yzzerhera’s voice harsh as the sand winds of her home lands had become harsher in exile
“…a strength that is familiar but foreign, only once have I felt such before…the Varangian.”

“The Varangian?,” Aun said shocked

“In what way?” Hri asked, her hand stretched to steady the shock the others showed

“Their power is drawn from the same well…but lacks the shadow of Lykana’s cloud…” the old woman explained
“Until this day I thought the Varangian a creation of Lykana’s necromancy a powerful warrior of the North she rose from the dust of ages with her dark arts…now it seems he is one of these Aethans bent to Lykana’s will.”

“They said their people were taken as slaves many years ago…” Ianna noted
“It was rumoured Lykana dealt with off worlders to acquire grimoires and magical totems.”

“It is possible but a long bow to draw still, I do not wish to give our guests false hope…” Alwyn noted

“Even so,” Aun interrupted “There is an opportunity here, with allies from offworld, strong in the arts as they are, with their ships, they could bring in food, weapons…warriors…”

A split that ran through the assembled matriarchs now reappeared with the suggestion.

No rebellion had yet been successful against Lykana, but the longer the tribes remained in exile in the ravines the more they felt the restless desire to do something, Aun longed to avenge her mother and her tribe, and had long wished to create a network of allies to rise up against Lykana.

Of course Hri opposed this, she had given the refugees a place to hide, shared what little the Whistling Caverns could offer, and was already in grave danger if Lykana ever discovered that…were Aun to try and build an army in the ravines…..

“These people have just arrived, I doubt they wish to involve themselves in our disputes…we cannot risk Lykana’s ire. And more importantly,” Hri fixed Aun’s gaze

“Lykana turned to dark and forbidden magic to take her throne, losing her soul in the process, if we seek aid of metal and machines from off world we are no better, Lykana takes much in tribute but she will not take our honour.”

Aun snapped back frustrated

“Honour? what good is honour if we are dead, Lykana is already taking more and more every year, we barely have enough to eat, the forests depleted, seas empty, and now the gods have brought this opportunity to free ourselves from her blood draining yoke, we can at least ask if they know of other warriors who might help, my grandmother told tales of beings called Mando’a, men clothed in metal who can fly, perhaps they could put us in contact with them?”

“I will not permit it, I am already risking my life and more importantly that of my people giving you refuge…who is to say these Mando’a will not simply use their power to enslave you in turn, are you really so desperate to have your revenge you would seek help form men?”

Tension sparked between them as the other matriarchs watched on, for too many years they had been stuck here, hiding, hungry, this arrival was a catalyst for change, they could all feel as much, the question was how.

Alwyn long counselled patience, Lykana she noted could not live forever despite her necromancies, Aun counselled action, that to live in fear and hiding was no life at all.

For now Alwyn Hri held sway as they all relied on her kindness for a place to live and food to eat.

Hri sighed out some frustration

“The tribute and procession is due soon, I will return to the Caverns and the border at the end of the week, I will offer our guests to accompany me on the long journey where they might ask more chiefs and clan mothers about their kin, we can discuss other matters upon my return.”

<<<<>>>>

Karintha

“…we can discuss other matters upon my return,” Evaea finished.

Although across the meeting grounds the subtle vibrations in the tents seemingly taught canvas combined with Evaea’s impeccably trained ability to scrounge out the slightest sound allowed them full transcription of the conversation.

“Varangian…interesting…if the Person here is male, he would certainly have looked for a strong female for assistance upon arriving…” Ari considered out loud

“If this Lykana found him…without any way home or thinking he was the only survivor, he could easily have slipped into obeying her instinctually, especially if she is as strong in the aether as they suggest.”

“Possible…but the planet is vast and full of aether warriors, we must investigate more thoroughly the situation,” Karintha said, talking with the other Matriarchs helping rebuild a sense of control and leadership and the peaceful introduction endearing her to Milaea and Ari.

“We remain here, these other clans have much to teach of value to us,” Karintha continued
“and by building friendships we will soon naturally discover any further hints as to the location of the Person here without needing to pry,”

“Should we not also,” Kassyndra added “consider sending someone to meet with this Lykana, if she does rule this world, however unjustly, she may have access to far more resources,”

Karintha thought for a moment,

“We sought the Gods of Dathomir, and their divine energy was strongest here…we must trust in their guidance while in their land,” Karintha reasoned

“But there is truth to your words also, when Hri offers to escort us on her tribute procession we will send a party with her…till then we learn all we can from the Dathomiri,”

<<<<>>>>

[Lord_S_Gray]

Chapter 36 — The Warrior, the Witch and the Matriarch —  The Realm of Ichor and Blood — Part 5

Jo Set Mack

It had been nearly three weeks.

Three very long weeks.

They had traded the Bolma for six horned Verne to ride as the passes became narrower, his pack ever lighter as more goods were used to pay their way.  How he would afford the trip back he had no idea, he hoped Jeisena knew something he did not.

There was much Jeisena knew that he did not.  And she was not inclined to share.

At night he would sit away from her as she pointed out constellations to Ulwyn, her finger drawing lines down to landmarks on the earth below to help her navigate.  She would tell stories of heroes and monsters, some dramatic and frightful that had Ulwyn curled up worried, some humorous and outlandish.

When Jo listening in would chuckle along with a double entendre Jeisena would give him a death stare for not having his full attention on guard.

Occasionally he would sense the presence of local tribeswomen watching them, but when it was obvious they were not poaching they lost interest.

The fauna were more of a problem, even keeping to the safer tracks.  Fortunately a quick shot of his blaster scared most things off, the sound and speed of the bolt terrifying creatures accustomed only to bows and arrows.

Three times they’d encountered bandits  - the first time coming around a tight bend in a cliff face in line with trees they’d sprung out from in front and behind with nets and spears.  They were lean with hungry strength, men barely clothed beneath their sunken eyes.  Three quick shots sped by Force enhanced reflexes sent them fleeing.

Four days later a whooping shrill call had echoed as mounted bandits raced at them as they passed between two hills.  Ulwyn had shrieked as they rushed down. 

Calling on the Force Jo pulled his blaster braced it against his off elbow and squeezed two shots straight into the leader on the right – the leather armour no match for the red bolts it burned straight into the flesh toppling her off some kind of saurian mount.

Seeing off world weapons the ones on the right paused, circling and pulling cross bows, the ones on the left kept advancing. 

There in the afternoon sun he lit his blade for the first time in years.

The snap-hiss somehow drowning the undulating war cries and causing shock among them.  The Witches of Dathomir were no strangers to the Force or unusual weapons, but technological ones seemed taboo – though Jo suspected in the long term that would not last – one fired a cross bow bolt straight at him – trained to deflect far faster moving blaster bolts it was effortless to sear it in two.

They fled after that.

Two nights ago had been the third time.  They were camped under an overhang in the rock whose charcoal floor was littered with old small bones and dried skins of fruits indicating it was often used by travellers.

They’d come just after the third watch, silent - sneaking.  He was sitting cross legged Odjina’s awareness tune on his lip, feeling out the peaks of fear, desperation and bloodlust as they approached.  He was glad Ulwyn was asleep by then.

First he sent a rock flying into a tree to create a sound to the side of their approach briefly drawing their attention.

Then he moved.

He may have been exiled from the Mak’tor, working as mall security, but for the sake of his daughter he had never stopped training when Jeisena wasn’t making demands on him.

And while he wasn’t the fighter he had been….

The first he took silently strangling from behind and igniting his blade into their back and through the body.  He’d hoped like the other times the rest would run at the site.

They didn’t.

The fight was fast and bloody in the trees by the overhang.  The tangles with two at once, his sabre slicing through the rough cast iron sword and the arm that held it.

The second had a halberd infused somehow with the force, this clashed against his blade in three quick strikes, but it soon became apparent Jo was not facing a trained warrior, just a talented thug. The rally was soon put to an end as Jo sliced his stomach into a cauterized grin.

By now two more were trying to get him from behind, three others rushing to grab Ulwyn and Jeisena.

Any thought the two sleeping females were unprotected while the male was fighting were soon dispelled as Jeisena leapt and unleashed a torrent of wild Force lighting.  Primal and uncontrolled compared to what Jo had seen Valens capable of it crackled over the first searing his face into black burnt welts as he dropped, the woman beside him with skulls on her belt pulled back muttering an incantation.

From his observations only 5 to 10 percent of the population had enough of a connection to the Force to be considered witches – still dramatically higher than in the galaxy as a whole due to their limited breeding pool – but much a higher number, perhaps a quarter - had a touch of the ‘Arts’ enough to perform ‘magic’ or have a ‘second sight’ or ‘keening’, the woman facing Jeisena was one such, her words illuminating a carved stone about her neck that deflected the lighting infuriating Jeisena.

Jo had little time to look, his sabre working swiftly against the attack of two better armed and more capable opponents.  He had a flash back to the first time he met Jeisena, her challenge to prove his worth by defeating her Zabrack chattel…he wondered what happened to them…most likely she had sold them to pay for food considering the even more wretched condition he found her in a mere four months later on Nar Shadda.

One hulking brute had wielded an Axe, the other two quick daggers, both enchanted enough to match a lightsabre.  They were strong too, life on Dathomir bred hard and lean bodies, but Jo knew something of fighting a physically superior opponent. 

He let them hammer away, moving quickly to avoid and parry only when needed, an attempt to throw one with the force was rebuffed by instinct more than skill, but the second attempt succeeded, the axe wielder staggering Jo stepped forward as if to capitalise on the chance – then swiftly turned on the dagger man – his sabre melting into his metal cuirass causing him to screech as the forest lit with another blast of blue lighting from the overhang.  Following through he stabbed at the Axe man missing the chest but burying his blade into the shoulder causing him to collapse.

Leaving them to die, Jo broke off and rushed to where Jeisena was in an inconclusive fight with two women, both were holding rune stones muttering spells and tracing sigils in the air that exploded like fire toward her. 

His mouth turning to mimic a ‘dispelling’ tune Odjina had devised to break through illusions he rushed them from behind, one turned and threw a burning symbol of flame that caught on his blade the hiss sound enough to wake Ulwyn who instantly screamed, the distraction enough to let him get closer and summon up logs from the fire to hurl at the woman still locked in the fight with Jeisena. 

The other began a ritual as Jo focused his dispelling motif at her – it was not designed to counter such magic, but seemed to cause her difficulty, her voice warbling the energy she tried to harness sparking not coalescing. 

Before she could raise her shield he was on her, blade through the neck as Jeisena closed with the other and in a brief and bloody match of daggers, slashing the bandits face along the cheek – she staggered straight into Jo’s blade.

Ulwyn had soon been soothed by Jeisena who quickly moved her along leaving Jo to loot the bodies.

Distasteful as it was they needed the trade goods.  He placed the bodies together in a ditch which would have to serve as burial, piling a few stones over top.

He came back to a small grove where Jeisena had set up a second camp an hour later.

“What took you so long fool?”

“Just…didn’t want to leave them like that,”

Jeisena sneered
“They are outcasts, absent kith and kin they deserve no rites…but then I suppose you may feel fraternity with such outcasts,”

Now he gave her a harsh look in the fire light. 

Her mouth motioned to speak…then stopped shut as she thought better of it looking at his blood stained cheeks and sweat matted hair.

“You did well tonight…killed those who would harm my child…” she strode forward as he stood still his heart still pumping from the fight, alert for any further threats.

It jumped further as she placed her arms around his neck

“My blood stirs also …”

<<<<>>>>

That was three days ago.

He still felt on edge as they passed the ‘border’ into Deepwood.  It was in the middle of a forest marked only by weather damaged fallen totem poles and wind chimes hung from branches.

Jeisena sniffed at the fallen state of the crossing.

“See what that bitch has done…drained the blood from everything…:schutta whore”

Jo winced at her language around Ulwyn.

“When I first passed through here with my mother,” she said more gently to Ulwyn,

“All this was upright, repaired, painted, over there would be a small waystation with fruits and foods to welcome visitors and a horn to blow if you needed help finding your way…now nothing but decay…Wings of the Goddess I hope the Caverns have been spared but I doubt it.”

Jo doubted it too, from all he had seen Dathomir, already regressed technologically, was sliding further toward outright poverty under Lykana’s rule.

“The land…the people…even the Force here is sick,” he agreed absently as if she were someone he could have a normal conversation with, he realised his error as she raised an eyebrow, her facial make up recently reapplied after largely coming off over the last week.

“Truth. When one tampers with the dark magic too deeply this is result, too much death and not the life to replace it in the Grand Cycle,”

It was a sentiment a Mak’or would concur with.

Jeisena went on adjusting in her saddle
“Just a few days to the river, hopefully the old bridge is still intact…then straight to the crook in the mountains where to deep Flow ravine and there to the caverns,”
 
A look of rare worry passed across her face even through the white paint

“I wonder if your grandmother is still alive…”

As they plodded along the forest trails Jo kept his senses open, but was caught up thinking about Jeisena getting more concerned the closer they came to her erstwhile home.

He had worked out just why she had been living in squalor trading magic for credits – as Lykana’s power grew she was sent, off world for her own safety ending up on Nar Shadda – a planet so vastly different from Dathomir on which she held no rank or privilege it was amazing she survived. 

“Stop falling behind imbecile!”

<<<<>>>>

Lykana

“Offworlders…at the Whistling Caverns…Hri…” she said calmly as the green glow of the vision pool reflected the image of her Cousin and Master of Scouts Lyra communicating from far to the north

“That rancor turd schutta!!” she screeched her youthful faced creasing with the angry narrowing of her eyes.

“This was her plan all along. Somehow she concealed it when she arrived! HOW!”

Lyra had no answer, but it was not her she was asking, rather the Eldritch Coven assembled around the vision pool – the strongest and most loyal (if any could said to be so) of the Night sisters

“Her powers must have grown exceptionally when off world Dread queen,” one croaking old bat tried to explain,

“We sensed nothing from her…or the male,”

“Well somehow Jeisena has been in contact with her damned little sister preparing for her return…they must’ve been planning this for years…Alwyn the little bitch, I should’ve sent the Varangian to wipe her out long ago…”

There was good reason she had not even after learning that refugees had fled there - it served Lykana’s purpose to leave the exiles to rot in the inaccessible ravines – sending in her Reapers would be a pyrrhic exercise, and turning a blind eye to meant all the disaffected and displaced fled to one place taxing Alwyn Hris resources to feed them all. 

Lykana knew there would always be dissent, but she had been content to allow this ulcer of annoyance to sit in place where it was irritating but contained…

Yet…something seemed amiss…why would Jeisena visit her at all when arriving…why pretend she was there for the naming of her daughter? 

Even as the Coven averted their eyes trying not to look stupid Lykana settled her mind into the undercurrents of the ichors and magical winds…there was a disruption, subtle and strange coalescing in whirls around the Whistling caverns and…

Behind her…

The Varangian…

Lykana’s eyes widened with understanding that others might have termed paranoid delusion

That was why Jeisena came here with that male who had memories of other men like the Varangian…she was trying to destabilise me, distract me…and it worked, the last binding was more difficult than ever…she must have more like him…the slut must have offered every hole she’s got to secure them…we must strike quickly,

“Assemble your covens, raise your vassals!” she creamed to the cowering witches as her eyes flickered ichor green

“Round up every male and orphan with the arts you can, and if you have none take any you deem fit and bring them here!”

She leered into the vision pool
 
“I don’t care where Jeisena is have the Reapers kill her now,”

“Yes Dread Queen…” Lyra obeyed before vanishing into the deep black water

Lykana rose fists tight

“Smash open the catacombs bring every dead body that once held a trace of the arts to Blood Peak…spread the word Alwyn Hri conspires with off worlders, offers herself freely to them like the whore she is!” her rant continued

With each vituperative word recently her youthful face cracked a tiny bit more.

<<<<>>>>

[Lord_S_Gray]

Chapter 36 — The Warrior, the Witch and the Matriarch —  The Realm of Ichor and Blood — Part 6

Jo Set Mack

“Jo….Jo-o-o-o” Ho-Li’s voice lilted on the wind in the gardens of the Temple, the endless rainbows of Coruscant traffic overhead.

He kept hidden beneath the Oblio tree, his grandmother Ha-Ona was sitting on a bench nearby, his father Jo’nas and uncle A’Lan laughing with Soryu, Gurrlum and Li’I.

But where was Odjina…

He remembered him being there…on the bench talking to Ha’Ona…

Jo stepped out as Ho’Li kept looking for him….approaching the bench as the crystal cavern formed around him.

“Where are you Jo?” Ho’Li called again, her voice older as he stepped deeper into the dark…Odjina was there somewhere…he had to find him….had to…

Apologise? Beg? Cry?

Tears welled in his eyes

“Jo! Where are you?” his sister asked just before the blade pierced her heart.

She was looking for him…but he had left her and all he had been so far behind…

Her body lay before him cold as the permafrost crystals of Vyth that surrounded her.

“I’m here…I’m here!” he screamed shaking her, willing lifeless eyes that stared into eternity to look upon him.

But she wouldn’t…couldn’t, her Brother had died when he turned to the darkness to ‘avenge’ her.

He was lost still, what was he doing…he needed someone, anyone to show him the way, but one and all he had turned from them…grandmother, father, mother, uncle, cousin, sister, friends…

“I never left you,” The ice cold hand of Odjina on his shoulder shattered the dream.

Spine frozen with danger sense Jo snapped up from his drooping at the murky caverns entrance.

They were coming – who, how many, why, he didn’t know or need to know, only that he needed to get his daughter and his….wife?, Mistress? Whatever – out of here as quickly as possible.

Saber tight in his hand he grabbed Jeisena harshly shocking her awake

“Jo what the frell…”

He was too focused on the imminent danger to notice she had spoken his name in her waking disorientation

“We need to move now,”

Immediately he grabbed the still sleeping Ulwyn, tightening the blanket around her as he threw the satchel with their food over his shoulder.

“How far to the Caverns, what direction?”

“Straight along the river from here, a days ride,”

The Moon flitted at the edge of the Mountains he needed to reach, a few hours before dawn and the chill he ignored with the flush of action began to set in.

Ulwyn in his left arm saber in right hand he ran out of the cavern Jeisena scrambling behind him.

They were a few hundred meters from the river surrounded by mangroves and reeds that swam with insects in the dark, the ground became ever sloppier as he moved forward heart pounding as the certainty of menace grew..and grew..and…

A spectral hiss sounded behind him.

Jeisena screamed.

An electrical whip of some kind was round her arm, she pulled her daggers and hacked even as it burnt into her skin.

From the night shaded bushes three figures with Force sparking scythes appeared, the fourth tussling with Jeisena on the whip.

The three others rushed him, air crackling with malefic weaponry as the wind made shrieking howls through the hollowed bones and feathers on their headdresses.

Guardian Blue light erupted from his saber as he rose to block the first slash, the impact causing him to shudder as he gripped the mercifully still sleeping Ulwyn tightly.

Incensed at the risk to her child Jeisena cut through the whip and grasped the Reaper with the Arts drawing her forward, the sunken eyed woman leaned into the pull drawing a serrated onyx dagger. They sparred fast and bloody, Jeisena trembled lighting up her arm to enhance her blows, even when she missed the arcs would catch and burn flesh, the Reaper - the better fighter - landed three cuts to her face, arm and breast, even forced to keep a distance.

Jo couldn’t hold against the three of them while holding Ulwyn. 

To save her life he had to risk hurting her.

He let his daughter drop trusting in the muddy ground to cushion the blow.

“MA-MA!”

Wet and cold shattered Ulwyn’s warm sleep screaming eyes opening to see flashing lights over her head and feel the pounding horror of danger in her budding Force senses.

He fought as he never had before.  For he’d never had a wife and daughter to protect before. 

The Reapers were fanatical and experienced, years serving Lykana in her campaigns and purges – but Jo was no slouch and had fought extreme odds before.

Something in those fights against Valens, losses they all might have been, hardened him to punishment - once you’d been hit by an Aethan, a human fist was mediocre.  His guard didn’t falter to the rapid impact of energy crackling scythes, his mind didn’t yield to the horrific illusions the witches conjured with their totems and rune covered skulls. 

His lips were a constant hum of the rising canto of a Battle-Song he had heard Odjina use, he’d never been able to keep the rhythm so long, it had always seemed too advanced and complex for him to emulate, now if he faltered a single key his family would die.

The Reapers skill finally succumbed to Jeisena’s raw electrical blasts, the pain from the hissing burnt skin no longer suppressed by even the opioid filled herbs the Reapers ingested before battle causing her to crash to the ground.

Jesisena had no thought to follow through, she ran straight for her daughter.

Through the air shattering clash of sabre against scythe she rolled to sweep up her bawling offspring…only for the wetness of the mud to cause her to slip from her grasp.

The distraction was too much, Jo faltered, the tip of a scythe slicing a deep furrow in his upper thigh.

“AAAGHHH!”

The battlesong lost he hurled a sloppy but effective telekinetic blast that hurled all three Reapers back into trees and mud.

“COME ON!” He grabbed Jesiena with one hand, she yanked Ulwyn in tune whose little fingers dug painfully into her as they ran, Jo swapping Saber for blaster firing backward the calmer part of his mind guiding his arm to yield some accuracy in the dark.

Red Bolts of Blaster fire were soon replied too with blow darks and whistling bladed boomerangs.

“Gnnng!” Jeisena toppled into the river bank sand, moths thick in the air as Ulwyn splashed into the river, scrambling and crying for her mother.

“JEISENA!” He reached down to grab her head and felt a warm liquid out of place in the glacier fed river waters matting her hair.

Teeth furiously gritted he spun and fired back six rapid shots, each weaker than the last as the power pack depleted, minor consolation a sudden spike of pain in the Force somewhere behind him.

Shoving the blaster into his pants he hauled Jeisena onto his shoulder and scooped Ulwyn into the nook between his shoulder and her mothers dangling legs.

The Force burning his limbs he drew more of it, tongue flicking behind clenched teeth with an endurance tune as he carried his family up the river in a half run.

Leaves scratched and mud sploshed as the Reapers charged toward them.

Jo groaned under the weight, fumbled to grab his saber, the snap hiss drawing in moths attracted to the light. He painfully turned and hurled the saber backward.

Face contorted in pain as the wound in his leg began to sting like hell, he twisted the blade with his mind as best he could toward the pursuers even as he kept moving forward.

A spark in the distance as it hit something metal was all he got as he trudged over water smoothed boulders and pebbles that step by step risked tripping him under the girls weight.

The Telekinetic grip on his saber loosened - it was lost for good.

There was nothing to do but keep running, his limbs were on fire, head pounding, the Battlesong had taken more from him than he realised, he could copy Odjina but never match his stamina.  The Reapers would soon catch up, or more likely flank him.

The rivers endless gurgle as he jogged against the current was his only companions, body hot from exertion keeping the predawn frost at bay.

The pain became a kind of friend in his exhausted delirium, his mind twisting in trying to count the steps, measure the litres or some other crazed concept to keep him from focusing on the body shattering fatigue.

They were waiting for him to tire himself out, he realised as the first orange fingers of dawn's light appeared, nights party of insects and nocturnal animals vanishing into shrubs and beneath gnarled roots half in the waters.

Branches snapped up ahead.  Warm blood trickled down his arm from Jeisena’s head.

Ulwyn seemed eerily quiet as she gripped on for survival.

He would lose them both.  He didn’t care for his own death, he’d cheated the Reaper…

“Ha…ahhaha!” he laughed the ‘Reaper like Grim reaper…
Too many times already…but not Jeisena and Ulwyn…not them…

The river narrowed as he rounded a bend, large cliffs either side of the faster rushing waters that had long since cut a canyon into the mount ahead, a thin rock path to one side flanked by totems…the border of the Whistling Caverns Territory…

His wife and child would die mere meters from their home lands.

He would die having failed two families in one lifetime.

The seemingly monotonous screen of green that bordered the river banks parted as the Reapers shrieked in their final charge. 

For what seemed like a third lifetime Jo watched entranced by the glitter of the sun against the ichor energy of their scythes. 

The green stuck in his eyes, it spun and coalesced into a figure beside the totems.  A bald, no, twi-leki man standing there at the edge, face firm but eyes kind, robes of a singer with Mak’tora Runes stitched into the edging.

I Never Left You

In the slow motion of his last breath –
Jo tilted back, the weight of Jeisena nearly toppling him as the Scythe sliced effortlessly through his rough shirt and left a cauterized gash in his abdomen.

He dropped to his knees as the second Scythe overshot his head.  Boot sloshing with blood pushed against the wet sand to lift him into a sprint. 

There was no pain, only peace as he ran to his master in tears.

Things stuck his back, his arms, life seeped from his body as he sloshed through the rushing water against the current till he could take no more and fell on his face before Odjina, Ulwyn rolling off into a shallow pool as the green glow of the Master Singers spirit turned to ash grey as a shadow fell over him.

<<<<>>>>

[TheDutchman]

This is quickly becoming another one of my favorite story arcs 

Poor Jo'Set, he's already lost so much: from his standing within the Mak'Tor to his home in M'Tzigon, his family and subsequent vengeance, he seemed to find at least a modicum of peace, albeit an atypical one.  Certainly, his new "family" with Jeisena and Ulwyn had become his saving grace in a way.  But now, with Jeisena having a kill-order out on her, Jo seems in danger of losing even that...

Yet I have to wonder: is his vision of Odjina brought on by exhaustion?  The Force?  Perhaps some other metaphysical connection, a combination of his experiences and his surroundings...

Could this be the workings of the Force in play: where Jo's once-prey/subject of revenge coming to his aid during his time of need, or is it too late?  The loss of his lightsaber seems to underscore that distinct possibility (I'm reminded where Obi-Wan emphasizes how the "weapon is your life," and, in Jo'Set's case, this might very well be the literal truth).  Whichever the case, it seems that Jo'Set'Mack is still the Maker's plaything...or at least playing through the lessons that he needs to learn.

On the other side of the story, our Aethans are beginning to see real progress, the near-completion of the Obelisk Array allowing them much better accuracy in finding those lost.  Of course, that's little help for those that are seemingly found, only to find themselves suffering from a crisis of character.  I feel for Karintha: with the chaos following the People's enslavement, whatever Old Ways that they have MUST feel as if it failed them, if indirectly.  How does one progress from a state of entropy without proper foundation?  And that's to say nothing concerning Karintha's own personal doubts...

Again: outstanding character study!  RotA is easily my favorite of LSG's "Aethan Cycle" 

[Lord_S_Gray]

Chapter 37 — The Warrior, the Witch and the Matriarch — Rancors Growl — Part 1

Nick of Time

“CEASE!”

The wretched broken body beneath her stretched bloody fingers toward her boot as Alwyn Hri yelled.

Two Reaper's who looked woefully worse for wear, tattered wet red veils across their faces and ichor powered scythes in their hands wet with fresh blood, stopped dead at the border.

Alwyn stepped to the front stopping just on the edge of the Totems that marked the Whistling Caverns Territory

“You will not inflict violence in My lands,” Her voice was firm and authoritative, enhanced by a touch of the Force.

“These are criminals wanted by the Dread Queen herself, turn them over!” the Reapers breathed ragged.

Karintha looked at the ‘criminals’ a man ground to all but dust by fatigue, a woman with a head wound and a child near comatose in fear.

Yorna behind her was already flicking her fingers sending thin red tendrils of healing energy to stabilise the injured, Evaea was nowhere to be sensed – undoubtedly already positioning for a fight - against these two rasping humans it would be very short.

“Do you have a warrant,” even as she spoke Alwyn nudged her entourage with the force to prepare. 

They had set out four days ago on the Tribute procession through the winding ravines, cliff paths and caverns and only just reached the border to Deepwood this morning.

<More than fortuitous timing> Yorna noted in the rapid cadence of their telepathy
<This is the hand of the Gods…ours and theirs> Karintha agreed.

The Reaper shifted uncomfortably, clearly they had orders but no proof.

Alwyn nodded

“Until I see a warrant with Lykana’s seal I accept these strangers under the rule of hospitium, by the sacred Law of The Winged Goddess Protector of Strangers and Travellers,” waving her hand Alwyn gave permission for other women of the Whistling Caverns clan in the caravan to attend them.

Yorna was there first - one hand on the woman’s head, the other on the man’s bleeding thigh as she sang an aetheric song to try and coax the child out of shock.

The Reapers fear spiked, yet Karintha knew it was not fear of Alwyn…but of their Dread Queen whom they had just failed severely.

“Lykana will hear of this!” one hissed

“See that she does,” Alwyn’s words were defiant and assured
“And tell her my tribute will be delayed by two weeks while you are at it,”

Frustration boiled as the Reapers stalked back along the river, Evaea reappearing high on an upper cliff face lowering her bow and arrow as the threat passed.
<Karintha!>

Karintha spun and knelt beside Yorna, Alwyn next to her as they turned the bodies over.

The male was vaguely familiar, Karintha scanned memories imparted to her by the others after her revival to recognise…

<Jo’Set’Mack>

Alwyn beside her turned pallid at the sight of the woman.

Jeisena

She was older, face worn by years and bloody from escaping the Reapers, but Alwyn knew her older sister.

All the surety Alwyn had just shown lost in an instant she croaked her next words.

“Will they survive?”

“Yes…their injuries are not life threatening,” Yorna quickly replied

“I can stabilise them for now but we need to return them to the caverns quickly,”

<<<<>>>>

The Whistling caverns were aptly named.

Deep in the Ravines they were a series of hundreds, if not thousands of natural caves and overhangs throughout towering cliffs divided by crystal blue waters and small bankside strips of forest.

At night cool air from on high whistled through the smaller hollows like a wind instrument creating a series of melodic whistles that were too pleasing to be natural – at some point the clan had likely ‘adjusted’ the smaller tunnels in the rock to produce the sounds, the natural effect was impressive regardless.

The opposite happened in the day as warm air from the valley floors rose up creating a different series of notes.

It was in the larger of the tunnels that the Clan was based, fires and rugs all about that were just like the sacred caverns on Aethas.

Through the carefully carved and decorated tunnels, beneath the wind chimes that hung from every ceiling to add to the orchestra they carried the three refugees.

Milaea, Kiraea, Kassyndra and Aresaea were waiting for them along with the other Headwomen of the refugee clans, the healers from these other tribes also prepared setting to work immediately with herbs, potions, lotions, incantations and bandages…

Karintha instantly felt worry from the others recognising the male.

<This is…beyond coincidence…> Ari noted
<We should end him now…use the aether to split an artery…they will think he died from his injuries> Kiraea’s thoughts were bitter and defensive.

Jo’Set’Mack had beaten Selaena with twisted borrowed powers, nearly beaten Valens and been a general thorn in their heel for months.

Now he had appeared again, battered, bruised and very far from home.

Karintha took charge.

<We learn what he was doing here first…Evaea you delve him while weak, Kassyndra back her up in case of any traps…> 

The two women set to work as Karintha walked toward Milaea who was the most distraught by his appearance.

<What bothers you?>

<It’s…what he reminds me of in myself> Milaea said honestly, Ari offering a comforting hand on her arm

<Vyth…the manipulation of Outsiders> Karintha looked again to the healers, their means would be effective, but the wounds were numerous, he would take months to heal - unless

<If not for him Milaea…then for yourself,> Karintha counselled placing her hand on the younger woman’s shoulders.

Milaea turned to Ari instinctively who nodded agreement.

Stepping forward Milaea joined Evaea and Kassyndra, red glow around her body as she begun repairing him far more rapidly than was natural while the delve began.  Ari smiled appreciatively to Karintha then joined Yorna in healing the woman.

Kiraea remained without a task, only scorn born of grief on her face.  Karintha stepped to her now.

<Look after the child Kiri, sing her a tune in the aether> 

Karintha knew this was risky tempting the fresh wound of Kiraea’s lost child, but she wanted her niece to heal.
Kiraea made no reply, turning her nose at the outsider child.

<Kiri…for yourself> Karintha pressed more firmly

A pause.  A glance to the child whom the old Magi Yzzerhera was checking.

Then a begrudging shrug that failed to give the lie to a spark of enjoyment as Kiraea went to comfort the child.

Revelling in her command of the situation Karintha now headed toward Alwyn who was speaking with Hetwoman Ianna, Chief Peola and Aun Frost Glade.

“There is much for us to discuss,”

<<<<>>>>

The patients stabilised, wounds sealed and clean within minutes, the gaggle of Dathomiri healers about them dumbstruck at the speed - It was less the ability that astounded them, their own traditions used much the same methods – it was the raw power four Aethan women could bring to bear while performing it.

“They’ll need lots of nutrient rich fluids,” Milaea instructed standing up,
“Ideally delivered intravenously while they sleep…” she turned to a magi healer
“Do you have any such devices,”

“Into the veins themselves yes, thin glass tubes and hollow reed needles in our tents,” the magi replied

“That should be fine, Ari let's go grab them,”

Milaea lingered a moment longer looking at Jo’Set’Mack as if searching for some recognition even as he lay unconscious.  None was forthcoming.

Yorna shared a glance with Kassyndra who was now standing collating the delve she had performed with Evaea, the older woman nodded.

“I’ll join you,” she said to her granddaughter.

<What news Evaea?> Yorna asked as the Dathomiri gently lifted and wrapped the injured parties to take deeper into the caverns that whistled with low sonorous tunes of the evening, the natural tubes crafted just so that as night fell the sounds were calming to the mind.

<This Jo’Set’Mack has been divided from the Mak’Tor Clan for some years, serving the other woman Jeisena, he came for their daughters naming, somehow has fallen afoul of Lykana after recognising this Varangian as an ‘Aetherian’>

<Then it’s true, the Varangian is one of us, and involved in the politics of this world>

<Truth>

Neither of them had any experience of Jo’Set’Mack, nor the Mak’Tor, but they were well aware that his knowledge of even one Aethan survivor was dangerous – should he report back to the Mak’tor the Jedi would soon hear and investigate. 

<That cannot be allowed> Karintha interjected as they opened the conversation to all the women present

<The Clan mothers are discussing this turn of events, again the split between the aggressive and conservative factions remains, the woman is kin to Alwyn, this complicates matters> Karintha reported from the meeting in a large cavern three floors down full of carefully carved chairs covered in Ko-seal fur traded with Aun’s clan in better times.

<The situation is complex, but if the Varangian is Aethan he may intercede with Lykana, perhaps put an end to any hostility that has arisen before we leave> Ari suggested as she helped the Desert Magi carry their vials and glass devices while Milaea worked with Chief Knissa preparing the nutrients and extracting plasma from Bolma blood for the base solvent.

<Agreed…> Karintha considered the best course not only for the People recovering lost kin but to secure a working relationship with the Dathomiri, the cultural similarities made them natural allies and Karintha was keen to strengthen the People through such friendships where possible.

<This meeting is coming to a resolution, I will advise of our next steps soon>

Kiraea had paid scant attention to the conversation as she sat beside the little girl who introduced herself as ‘Ulwyn’

“Mama is asleep?” she asked nuzzled into the Old Magi Yzzerhera’s thick skirts

“She is child, but will recover soon,”

The old woman of the Deserts noted that Kiraea kept a distance even as she leaned in wishing to comfort the child.  Yzzerhera had seen such a look many times in her nearly hundred years.

“Come why don’t Kiraea and I show you around the caverns,”

“hmmmm….OK….”

“Hoh-Kay?”

“It means she is happy to,” Kiraea smiled sadly recalling a time she didn’t know the Republic slang either.

Ulwyn took Yzzerhera’s hand and reach out for Kiraea’s, pausing briefly she gingerly took the tiny digits as they walked. 

They strolled up a level, the little girl wide eyed staring at all the wind chimes about the caverns that sung and whistled with Aether and Air, coming to where many of the looms and sewing stations were, Ulwyn impressed by the colours and variety.

As the little girl sat looking through a box of various balls of yarn Yzzerhera approached Kiraea, the elderly lined face repulsive to her aesthetic sensibilities, but the presence of the Magi undeniable in the aether.

“You have lost a young one…” the old woman stated
“As have I, two miscarriages, and three children, two as adults to Lykana’s Djinn…”

Kiraea remained unmoved even as she stared at the little girl…outsider child she may be…but a child still more than she had.

“My heart might fill with grief, to have outlived all those I treasured in my womb…”

Getting no direct attention from the standoffish woman Yzzerhera moved directly in front of her.

“But is a heart so limited in its capacity to love it cannot find room for grief for one lost and love for a new life?”

“Desert wisdom old woman?” Kiraea sneered to be lectured by an outsider.

“Wisdom of Life everywhere child,”

“Looks!” Ulwyn gasped finding something of interest among the yarn,

With a not disrespectful nod to the Desert Magi, Kiraea headed off to share in the girls youthful enthusiasm.

<<<<>>>>

[Lord_S_Gray]

Chapter 37 — The Warrior, the Witch and the Matriarch —  Rancors Growl — Part 2

It writhed and spat as the ichor fist gripped its throat, Lykana disappointed she could not feel the tense neck muscles and bulging artery under her own finger tips.

Through the Vision Pool murky and green with ichor she punished the fools who couldn’t perform the simplest of tasks in disposing of an enemy.

Her anger slightly abated she released her grip.

“Fail me again and your head will decorate my wall,” she leered across the continent.

“Stay where you are, I will send further word soon,”

“Yes Dre….”

With a splash of her fist Lykana ended the connection.

“Jeisena…” the name like a curse on her lips.

“Bringing everything I have sought to prevent upon Dathomir, turning to off-worlders who will enslave us…”

Lykana had known only untied and following the True teaching of Allya would the clans be strong enough to maintain their independence and way of life.

She was keenly aware of the rapaciousness of the Hutts and other foul creatures that plied the stars, and for that very reason had created her armies to protect Dathomir, established caches, fortresses, relay networks…

And the tribute she demanded from the tribes was in the main used to sell to the few off world traders she could deal with for credits to purchase more technologically advanced defences and a retainer on a powerful off world Mercenary force until she had a space defence force of her own.

All while the short sighted fools in the lesser clans who saw nothing in the stars but constellations complained and resisted.

Now Lykana was vindicated by the betrayal of one of Dathomirs own daughters.

“We must act quickly, I tolerated Alwyn and her beggars too long, and now…”

She didn’t know why she bothered asking, the Varangian was of little use for conversation, only a useful sounding stone.

Her head throbbed, it had been too many days since her last renewal…was it four or…no only three…but this stress taxed her.

“I need to advance my plans…even if untested…the Ritual must begin soon…”

Massaging her forehead her hand came away with thumb sized flakes of skin.

She knew she could not live forever, that inevitably she needed to pass the heavy weight of the crown to a child of her own blood…

To her unending rage it was the one thing her mastery of the Arts had been unable to achieve.  No potion, spell nor totem had been able to open her womb, the seed of the most virile of male slaves, fathers of dozens of children failed to take within her. By the Fanged god she had even tried the Varangian hoping to birth a child with his incredible physical prowess!

She remained barren as the desert.

At first her use of the pyrrhic arts of Rejuvenation had been to extend her ‘fertile’ years in the hope she would naturally conceive…a decade and a half of failure later it had become an addiction. 

Every rejuvenation the blood price was higher, the effect dissipated more quickly, yet now her body could only survive through that malefic power. 

In her last five years she had perforce begun working on a new means of extending her life, hidden in the depths of her Sanctum, behind a false wall the Varangian had carved with his bare hands, for only that blank faced weapon shaped as flesh and blood could be trusted.

Striding away from the pool he touched the same old stone in her Sanctum that led to the narrow stairwell and to the reeking humid chamber the Varangian a silent shadow behind her.

There in the half lit room where candles flickered green with ichor infused envy were piles of parchment covered in eldritch symbols and calculations most of her own devising based on grimoires purchased from off-world written by Jed’aii and Sith’Ari.

“Please…” squeaked a tear sore voice behind an iron grate, the untouched plate of fine food beside it irritating Lykana.

Her future Vessel needed to remain strong.

“Feed her,” she ordered the Varangian who wasted no time opening the case to the young woman’s screams knowing that for the hundredth time he would force the food into her mouth.

Lykana raised the latest of her scrawling’s to the light as the woman gave up her futile resistance to the implacable warrior.

She scrutinised the formulae and Enchantment Symbols to be etched in the Ritual circle, making only the slightest adjustments with her quill.

It was not perfect, but there was no longer time to wait.

<<<<>>>>

Flashpoint

The Forests of Deepwood were familiar after only an hour, Dathomir a home away from home.

Moving quickly in their leathers, bows, daggers and swords, they spun through the air between branches of trees that had seen the Kwa come and go.

The Depth of memory here was incredible, Ari hoped to one day indulge her interest in archaeology and probe into this world's past.

Bounding off a large branch that barely shook as she sliced through the night air she glanced to Milaea just up ahead a quick smile between them brighter than the two moons that night.

She would especially love to indulge her…archaeological…desires here with Milaea.

Milaea suddenly stopped, Evaea and Karintha were up ahead, moments later Milaea signed the instruction received from Evaea in the vanguard

[Up ahead, six Reapers in camp]

Karintha’s plan was simply to make contact with Lykana’s people to secure passage to Blood Peak.

They held much esteem for their hostess, but felt it better to approach Lykana independently. 

The four of them had been travelling along the road for two days and nights while Kassyndra, Kiraea and Yorna remained in the Whistling Caverns.

[We approach on foot] Karintha signalled back.

As one they dropped soundlessly to the ground and formed together moving toward the orange glow through the trees, overhearing even at this distance the terse and anxious words of warriors expecting a battle soon.

[This does not bode well…] Ari signed
[We can only try] Mili smiled back.  They were both supportive of Karintha’s leadership so far, a measured and restrained approach Valens lacked, and her taking charge freed Milaea and Ari to spend more time together.

“Hold!” electro-spears and Vibro-Scythes at the ready they entered the fire lit clearing hands up in an placating gesture

“Who goes there!”

“Travellers,” Karintha replied
“I am Karintha, Daughter of the Three Goddesses of Aethas come to trade and learn, and search for a lost kinsman…I wish to secure passage, under escort if required, to speak to your Queen Lykana,”

The Reaper with the largest headdress sneered behind her red veil

“Why would the Queen wish to speak to such as you?”

“Is that not for the Queen herself to decide?” Karintha replied instantly,

The suddenness of which struck the Reaper quiet for a moment.

“You are an offworlder…I can smell it…”

The other Reapers began to slowly move to surround them.

“We are, but we seek only fair dealing and honourable exchange,” Karintha reached to her belt….the Reapers weapons glinted toward her yellow in the firelight that cast thick shadows

“A gift…” Karintha took her dagger from her belt, holding it by the blade she placed it on the ground then they all stepped back.

With a nod from the leader a Reaper approached and went to pick it up…finding Blackstone much too heavy for one hand she hefted it with both, checked it over.

“hmmmph…” the grunt was impressed as she handed it to the leader.

“…for you personally,” Karintha added as the Leader got used to the weight
“for your Queen we have other gifts befitting her exalted station,”

“Very well…you wish to speak to the Queen…we will see if she wishes to speak to you…this way…”

The Reapers slightly relaxing they followed.

<<<<<>>>>

He regretted waking up…

Now he could feel everything wrong with him….

His thigh, stomach, head, arms, legs…actually it was easier to list what was not sore and throbbing…his ears perhaps.

Despite this as he came to himself he jumped up.

“Ul…Ulwyn…”

“shhh…its alright…” a woman said beside him in the gentle candle light.  He was in some kind of cavern, a lullaby like whistle pervading the air along with the scent of rich herbs and earthy sheets.

“Your child and Mistress are safe,” Yorna smiled she had sensed the stirrings of the Mak’tor’s consciousness and wished to be there when he awoke…for a variety of reasons, not all of them healing. Should this Mak’tor prove to be here, despite the delves’ information, to find them, she would need to act swiftly to…incapacitate his intentions

“We found you at the border of the Whistling Caverns territory brought you here under the protection of Alwyn Hri and the clan,”

“Alwyn Hri…” he muttered, then cast the thought aside
“Jeisena Hri and Ulwyn, I need to see them, the Reapers they…”

A calming touch of the aether put him back down

“They are safe, you will see them come morning, they are sleeping and you are in no state to walk.”

Jo could feel the touch of the Force on his mind, it was not surprising given how many Dathomiri had it…but…as the woman turned to give him a cup of water…

Something about the lines of her face, the features were…beautiful…too beautiful…engineered…the red hair…no it couldn’t be…

A sudden tingle of cold up his spine refuted his resolution a moment later…

Yorna stood too swiftly – then faster than he could track with his normal eyesight she was at the rounded bead covered doorway.

“Something is wrong, stay here…”

<<<<>>>>

“What is the meaning of this!”

In front of the large entrance to the main Caverns stood three dozen Reapers, armed with Scythe, Sword, and crossbow, in front of them Alwyn’s scouts and guards from the road here to the River border with Deepwood tied and gagged on the ground…

And before all those, in his grotesque metal and bone armour the Varangian loomed like a monolith dominating the entire clearing where a market had once stood in better days.

Beside Alwyn were Ianna, Peola and Aun Frost Glade along with a dozen of her Warriors, beneath the gaze of two moons bordering the Constellation of the Fanged God…a portent that two foes would clash.

The wiry and old woman beside the Varangian stepped forward with a nasally voice declaring

“Her Exalted Majesty Lykana Daughter of Ayana, Daughter of Sera, Daughter of Allya Blessed Mother of us ALL, Ruler of All Dathomir speaks thus!”  She produced a bound vellum scroll dangling with waxen marks

“Jeisena Hri and Alwyn Hri are hereby declared Traitors to Dathomir, consorting with Offworld Powers seeking to undermine the Sovereignty of the Clans. They are to immediately surrender themselves for Trial, any who oppose this will share equally in their crimes.”

Metal clinked against bone fetishes as the Varangian stepped forward.

<<<<>>>>

[Lord_S_Gray]

Chapter 37 — The Warrior, the Witch and the Matriarch —  Rancors Growl — Part 3

Three drops of green ichor splashed heavily into the small pool, dark gases wafting into the night sky.

The magicks essential properties were not unfamiliar to the Aethans in the basic principles, but the catalyst and energy sources were.

What was a puddle became a vision pool that etched out in waves a face of a woman, her colouring hard to tell in the green haze but she clearly had on some kind of light face paint and carefully drawn totems over that.

“What is it!” the voice carried irritation that the Reaper bowed to allay

“My Queen a delegation of Offworlders would speak with you,” she gestured for them to step forward, by mutual consent Karintha took the lead.

“Lykana Queen of Dathomir I am Karintha of Aethas, we have come to your world in peace to…”

“In peace! Cavorting with the traitors at the Whistling Caverns!”

“We have no interest in your internal politics, only trade and finding a lost kinsman of ours, we believe the man known as the Varangian may be he,”

All that Lykana had feared so long now came to fruition, Treason, invasion, and her best warrior imperilled.  

She regretted sending him now via ichor teleportation using the Old Lines of the Kwa Network - the fatigue from which shortened her temper -  offworlders were dangerous enough…if these women possessed any of the Varangians abilities…even half she was in dire peril.

Behind Karintha, Evaea backed up by Ari subtly probed through the Vision Pool, seeking any traces of Lykana’s emotions, Evaea’s subtlety was without peer…but so too was Lykana’s mastery of the Dark Arts.

Lykana felt the gentle tug that anyone else would’ve ignored as a minor tremor in the ichor and seized upon it.

“You dare try to invade my mind even as you preach peace!”

Only that Karintha’s facial expressions were too fast for Lykana’s eyes to process did she not see the shock as she realised just how powerful a witch this woman must be in addition to her political power.  This was not a woman who would be easily dealt with.

“Apologies,” Karintha lied quickly, “Our People, as you may be aware, are more open in sharing feelings across the ‘Force’”

“So you say…” Lykana sneered knowing full well the deception in Karintha’s words
“I know nothing of the Varangian being from off world,” she lied in turn,
“And he has never expressed a desire to leave, if you are true to your word and do not wish to interfere then leave Dathomir at once, We’ve no interest in dealing with off-worlders on any terms but our own,”

“Lykana…” Karintha said firmly
“You are a witch of great power and skill, a Matriarch, We respect that….”
She felt a supportive nudge from Evaea, Aresaea and Milaea, though with her seior powers Milaea could see how this situation would unfold, she was…consoled in a sense…that Karintha was doing everything she could to prevent it.

“…your affairs are your own, but where one of our People are affected we cannot and will not walk away, we have evidence one of our People is here, be it the Varangian or another we will seek them out for one month then leave – that is non-negotiable – your cooperation could bring great benefits to both our people…your opposition,”

Buoyed by Milaea’s support in particular Karintha at last spoke with the confidence and poise she had been lacking since her resurrection.

“…will be self defeating,”

<<<<>>>>

So it had come to this.  Alwyn’s only surprise was it had taken this long, the accusation plausible enough she had to admit.

She stared at the shadowed helm of the Varangian, somewhere in those black depths must be eyes, a man once perhaps…now less than a servant, a mere object.

“Either way,” Alwyn said stepping forward herself
“I’m dead…” she turned to her friends and allies
“Save yourselves, this is fate is mine alone,”

She was going to fight Yorna realised from the shadows of the cavern entrance…and she would lose.

Kassyndra and Kiraea slid just behind her, instantly understanding the situation, all their focus drawn to the hideously armoured Varangian whose presence in the aether was an inflexible programmed will of iron chains dripping in ichor, barely even a sentient mind to be detected.

The Varangian moved to implement his Queens will.

The fifty humans there witnessed only an incomprehensible blur erupt before their imperfect eyes.

For the Four Aethans a war began.

<<<<>>>>

“You dare to come to my world and dictate terms and threaten me!” Lykana scowled irate, the skin beneath her makeup, fracturing as she stood before the Vision Glass surrounded by totems in her Sanctum.

“Leave Dathomir or be expelled, do not think I am without technology as you call it,”

Lykana was well aware her opponents might become radicalized enough to betray Allya’s vision further and turn to offworld help, she had contingencies in place to deter such….even so…

She was in the jaws of a wicked problem.  

The teeth above were the loss of her most potent deterrent in the Varangian, the inevitable loss of prestige in giving into an offworlder.

The teeth below were the gnashing blades of a battle with Hri and her offworlders now.

There was no escape from the Jaws of the Fanged God…when in his mouth the only option was to let go her hold and fall into the abyss of his blood thirsty throat.

She would hold on a little longer, and more importantly choose her….

No…

Karintha stiffened, Evaea vanished into the Cloak of Shadow by reflex, Ari looked to Milaea for confirmation of what she sensed.

Events had outrun them all.

<<<<>>>

Instead of Alwyn’s neck the Varangians vile sword, serrated and fearsome as his armour met a Blackstone blade.

The Sacred Laws of Hospitality compelled Alwyn to protect her guests, all Dathomiri, even Lykana would’ve understood this.  Aethans held hospitality, the practice of Xenia equally sacrosanct, but with a slight difference.

A Guest was also required to, if needed, protect their host – in a valley where Vorynx, Vosis and Votren could lurk; it was a necessary rule.

It was this obligation Yorna fulfilled now.

Alwyn’s hand was moving to take her short sword, Aun and Peola likewise reached for their weapons, the Reapers and Whistling Caverns women tensed to fight.

No human could have intercepted the blow.

Yorna could.

The weight behind the strike was enormous, shifting even her aethan weight.

By the time Alwyn and the others caught up to events occurring faster than their normal senses could trace the Varangian had swung fully through another two cuts both bounced against Yorna’s far smaller daggers.

The humans stood shocked, not because someone had resisted Lykana and the Varangian, that was common enough…rather for the first time someone was fighting him on equal footing.

The shock dissipated as the third meeting of Ichor infused steel meeting Blackstone sent sparks into the air.

The Reapers bellowed their war cries, Aun and Peola screamed in turn, the Whistling Caverns warriors observing from sheltered positions above the entrance way nocked their arrows.

The first battle began under the Twin moons that circled the Fanged Gods Stars.

Arrows bounced against hastily summoned kinetic wards, small sparks of lighting flew as runic talismans were invoked.

Aun charged into the fray Ice-stone small axes smashing into Scythe blocks.  Bladed boomerangs bounced off Peola’s blocks.  Silken Spiders sprang from the caverns knives in teeth upon the Reapers, Desert Tribeswomen rushed through the caverns Scimitars at the ready to join them.

Six of Alwyn’s guards were taken apart by three Reapers, their scythes spinning low to slice their shins like matchsticks.  A Witch face covered in dried blood hurled green flame that burst over Alwyns head as Kiraea counter fired her own.

The front rank of Reapers charge was undermined as Kassyndra hurled them back with a Telekinetic wave their wards and totems could not diminish.

The battle in the clearing turned fierce and frantic in seconds, but it was restricted to a ring around the true clash.

The Varangian and Yorna fought an inconclusive game of stab and parry testing each other's strengths and techniques.  He had physical prowess, she had reach and dexterity, but she wore only her comfortable leathers and cottons and carried two Oblivion Daggers, he was in full eldritch armour.

Yorna was used to training against physically larger and stronger opponents in Jarys especially, an unwitting edge given how few Dathomiri trained against men, she used that experience now, skidding and sliding on the increasingly churned ground to attempt to drive her blade into the few visible gaps in the armour.

The Varangian would tolerate none of it, the brutish survival instinct denying her every opportunity and leaving her with nothing but a series of near misses.  

Arrows bit through armour, scythes shattered swords, Magick melted flesh and metal.  The Desert Tribeswomen pressed on the right reinforcing the Whistling caverns warriors and Aun Frost Glade whose fury over her mothers loss was written in the frost bitten wounds of half a dozen Reapers.

Kiraea and Kassyndra remained behind the lines, in melee they could’ve done untold damage even with just their daggers, but their role was far more crucial in keeping the Reapers Witch Coven in check.  

Three High-Witches supported the Reapers with augmentations, and undermined their enemies with malacia and illusions – the Aethan women fired telekinetic support and counter aetheric flames when they could. The Witches worked as one deploying a variety of runic totems, Scrolls of Summoning, and Ichor laced Spells – the variance to Aethan techniques sufficient to deny the Guardian Trained meta-humans their usual advantages.

The Reapers who had arrived prepared for battle began to gain ground, the defenders roused from their beds lack of preparation beginning to show.

Alwyn rose from a wrestling match with her sword yanked from a bleeding chest, face covered in blood, only half of which was her enemies, and saw the inevitable.

“FALL BACK!”

<<<<>>>>

[Lord_S_Gray]

Chapter 37 — The Warrior, the Witch and the Matriarch —  Rancors Growl — Part 4

“Kill them!” Lykana’s voice cold as the grave as the Reapers turned on the four Aethans.

They had little forewarning of how outmatched they were until Evaea already hidden in the Cloak of Shadow decapitated the Leader.

With surprising resolve the others responded chanting incantations and hurling glass bottles filled with noxious gases that twisted into vile phantasms that chomped at Ari and Milaea with acidic teeth.

Karintha cast an illusionary pall of total darkness around the area, the orange fires hissing out in an instant.  Energised by ichor and hallucinogens the Reapers fought by instinct as primal as the Aethans, their headdresses and necklaces containing strong counter spells to buffet back the lighting Ari unleashed so precisely and shield against Milaea’s first wave of consciousness suppressing Mental Thorns.

The Reapers powers were both familiar and foreign forcing the Aethan women to intensify their attacks to overpower them. 

Ari’s lighting increased beyond normal voltage to shatter the stone runes, Milaea telekinetically followed through tearing the headdresses apart at a molecular level, the dust choking the Reapers nostrils as Evaea spun through them like a ballerina, each of her motions breaking bones.

As Karintha’s shroud lifted Ari knelt by one of the three wheezing survivors, the tragedy of unnecessary violence already breaking her heart.

<We tried…> Milaea’s telepathic voice carried equal sadness <…at least we can…>

<AUNTIE COME QUICKLY!> Yorna’s explosive alert interrupted.

<<<<>>>>

Her breathing was non-existent, her heart squeezing paused as she used the Rites of Aephordaea to expertly control her homeostatic systems to divert all possible resources to the fight with the Varangian.

His armour and speed, and skill prevented her from landing a blow with her dagger.

The single focused automaton mind lacking any ‘soul’ denied her anything to launch conventional mental attacks against.

Skulls ensconced between metal plates etched with intricate carvings that glowed in response to telekinesis, lighting or aetheric fire denied her an array of techniques.

Worse he was determined to finish Yorna off.

<Alwyn is falling back…we need to leave> Kiraea said

Rolling to avoid what would’ve been a bone shattering blow that cracked the ground for several metres Yorna was desperately trying to do just that.

She spun forward to slash the leather cord that bound one of the skulls on his belt – she reasoned if she could detach those his aetheric resistance would be weakened.

Crab stepping from a vicious spiked knee she pulsed a small telekinetic wave, it ruffled his stance a little more than last time proving her theory.

<I’ll help!> Kiraea primed ready to defend her sister

<Help the others, give me a few second more>

Mindless as he was Deadly the Varangian continued to hack at the lithe woman even as the Reapers advanced, Kiraea begrudgingly following her sisters instruction hurling bolts of lightning to cover the crawling and scrambling defenders.

<I’ll help the evacuation> Kassyndra added, her healing and logistical stills of greater value than her martial ones in the moment.

Yorna retreated back and flipped to stand as the Varangian advanced, the Reapers staying well clear of their fight.  Her eyes, thermal, aetheric and olfactory senses traced each and every piece of bone on his armour in the nanosecond he closed the gap.

Tensed and primed she unleashed with every limb and every level of consciousness she had.

Telekinetically enhanced lighting flared from around her body striking with millimetre precision on shatter point lines within the bones as she wove under then over his brutish blade to hammer her dagger into the saurian bone helmet he wore right between the eyes.

The Blackstone dagger bit deep and accurately, she followed with micro telekinetic blasts along the shatterpoint lines.  One instant solid the next all but dust his helmet vanished into the increasingly hot air.

As she regained distance from the serrated horns and spikes on his armour she turned to see his face.

It bore no emotion, eyes that looked but did not see, nose that took in air but did not breath...it was as blank as it was single minded…without meaning or purpose or memory beyond its owners desire.

But for Yorna it held shocking potency.

Taran…

Her uncle, husband of Karintha, Guardian and friend to all the People, the man who had helped her build a set of swings for her little sister, whose visits were always looked forward to for the honey he would bring from the lower villages….

There was no recognition in his eyes…only unstoppable purpose.

<AUNTIE COME QUICKLY!> she yelled across the aether by pure instinct.

She had not the heart to fight him further even as the last vestiges of his aetheric wards fell away…

The Reapers were all around, the cavern entrance on fire, even if she could disable him, she could not escape with him…no time to diagnose and breach whatever spell he was under.

She ran.

<<<<>>>>

[TheDutchman]

I think that Lykana is about to learn the hard way that those that conquer by the sword, die by the sword...

But that's the problem with most despots, especially those almost solely reliant upon violence as a means of control: no matter one's superiority, there will be those that rise up against such tyranny.  Not that the Hri witches are necessarily better (if their descendants are anything to go by...), but Lykana makes too many mistakes in flaunting Dathomiri taboos and established social mores (certainly the fact that her Reapers are caught trying to assassinate Jo'set&Co. despite their protection within Hri Lands in and of itself would could become a rallying cry around which the opposition would gather to depose her).  And that's not even accounting for the Aethans...

Now that the Varangian has been unmasked as Taran, will they be successful in rescuing him?  Or after decades of enthrallment, is he too far gone?  Worse, could Taran awaken to his surroundings only to realize that he is the instrument of a despotic witch's vengeance and power-grab, responsible not only for countless deaths but those possibly including his People?  Which leads to another set of questions...

Can Karintha secure her position of Matriarch should she be called upon to make the hard decisions, in this case, having to kill the man that she called husband (the fact that he is unaware of his actions only seem to complicate matters)?  Given that her status is already tentative as-is, she will undoubtably find that whatever decision that she enacts will affect(/haunt) her for a while to come (should she survive...)

And then we finally come to Jo'Set.  Not dead but still surrounded by those who would see him submit...but be it to Justice, a traditional place, or some rare instance of elevated position pales in comparison to what he will ultimately face...

...and if he'll survive it 

[Lord_S_Gray]

 

Chapter 38 — The Warrior, the Witch and the Matriarch — Drums of War — Part 1

A Quieter Moment

Chaos and flame unfolded around him.

He was being shoved forward through the ever tighter caverns amidst a sea of bodies and screaming.  Behind Jo Set Mack could hear the sounds of blade and battle.

All he cared for was finding his daughter.

Terrified by the ugly ripple in the Force beside her still injured mother Ulwyn felt a great sense of relief as Kiraea swept her then her mother up effortlessly, one on each shoulder.

“Come on little gobril,” she soothed - despite being an outsider child Karintha had been, as always, right - Kiraea enjoyed looking after her and thought of nothing but ensuring she was safe as soon as the order to retreat had been given.

“wha…wha…”
“shhh…we’re gonna play a game ok, it’s called how fast can we run! Now hold on tight!”

Kiraea raced through a market's diversity of different skins tones, clothes and accents who pushed and jostled made refugees once more as the Caverns were set alight by the now loosed Reapers.

Straw beds, wooden wind chimes and hand spun tapestries were all set alight by the Reapers magicks as Kassyndra guided the Dathomiri out.

She felt a kinship with them already, their way of life so like her own. 

Yet their human limitations now began to show, shoving and scraping began as the women became desperate to escape, screaming for children they could not find, the men, largely servants, pushed to the ground or forgotten entirely, a few taking a chance to try and flee.

Filling herself with the aether she loosed five full levels of consciousness across the crowds, grasping their fear and soothing it like she would a frightened toddler, exuding a sense of calm she began guiding their minds with simple instructions.

Jo felt the push into his head, subtle, very subtle, and had he not experienced such before he would be unlikely to recognize it…this was not the piercing ravage or towering dominance he anticipated, it was a calm and focused guidance, motherly.

Kassyndra’s mind effortlessly streamlined the evacuation, the Dathomiri completely unaware of benevolent guidance. 

Children found mothers, blockages were cleared, panic was allayed. The effect intensified as Kiraea somewhere far ahead with the child of her nominal enemy joined with two levels of consciousness, positive synergy more than doubling her capacity as she drew on Kiraea’s greater knowledge of human psychology.

Everything seemed slower to Jo…yet the crowds were moving faster beneath torches and candles…it was dream like, he began walking against the tide glancing at the now if not calm then controlled faces

Not everyone was so accepting, Knissa, Clan Mother of the Silken spiders recognised the effect upon her, a modified version of the calming ‘venom’ spell her Fangs used to lower a victims awareness. 

Knissa knew this was done to help the evacuation, but the scale of it…what a being capable of this could do to a single persons mind…

“Clan mother?” a young scrambler tugged her silken waif like robes

“Nothing continue on,”

Scanning every face the crowds began to thin Jo finally saw in the tunnels darkened torch light the curve of the face he sought,

“Jeisena are you alr….”

The woman looking back at him was not Jeisena…by the Maker she looked like her, but her face was fuller, lacked the hollowing the poverty on Nar Shadda would always mark her with…

“Who…” Jo stopped startled

“No time Maleling, come…” Alwyn hardly recognised the man found with Jeisena, last she had seen his face was flushed and bloody as hers was now.

“No my daughter, Ulwyn…I need to find her…”

“Kiraea probably has her, I doubt anyone is safer, we need to leave now!”

Looking into her eyes he saw genuine concern, worry, and a kindness he had never seen in Jeisena…he trusted her, and followed without question.

<<<<>>>>

Blank eyes watched the cliff wall spew out black smoke in the morning light.

The Reapers had been reinforced with warriors of the Deepwood and Near River Clan in the last few hours…it mattered little the vast majority of the Whistling Caverns and their allies had escaped already.

Now a more sinister threat spread through the warriors.

Whispers – words.

They had seen a woman with blazing red hair clad only in leathers fight the Varangian to a stand still. 

This story spread quickly through the ranks, his armour absent of any Runic Skulls and sporting numerous fresh divots was walking proof to some two hundred Dathomiri warrior women and their War chiefs and Hunt Leaders.

In what had been the central well of the Whistling Caverns main living area, a vast chamber in the caverns filled with distorted whistles through the carved tubes of the cavern as the hot air from the fires destroyed the natural flow that would otherwise produce the rousing morning music, Lykana’s Equerry dropped ichor into the still pool to report what had occurred.

As she listened in her sanctum her skin cracked and flaked beneath her make up.

Not only had her warriors failed to defeat the off worlders, now Jeisena and Alwyn had slipped her grasp, and the Varangian had been…countered.

She could not allow this insurrection to spread.

She summoned her Covens, rallied her banners then descended to the deepest of her chambers.

In the darkest alcove where only she had ever stepped sat, beneath ichor forged chains a flayed skin book, a grimoire created by Allya and Aiesha, her ‘Dark’ daughter whom in her senility she had disowned the legacy of. 

These were the most potent and powerful of Allya’s True legacy, her traitorous successors had chained it, but never had the stomach to destroy it. They knew they had betrayed her, and in their shame kept it.

Lykana cracked the brass lock with a green shard of energy from her fingers.

The grimoire flew open hungry to be read.

She would feast with it.

<<<<>>>>

It was an irony of sorts.

The very clearing in the deep ravines Alwyn had given over to the refugees to settle was now where she had to flee to as the caverns she loved were burned and occupied behind her.

The evacuation had been calm and controlled, far more than she thought possible.  Knissa spoke to her on that…the off worlders had – assisted..

For now she was just happy to have them onside.

It took three days to reach the ravines, during which time Karintha and the other offworlders had re-joined them,

When they dropped from the trees to join her there were no words necessary, they all knew the bones had been cast.

Even so Karintha and Milaea approached her apologetically.

“Our arrival,” Karintha said “Seems to have stoked Lykana’s paranoia concerning you and caused this loss…we are truly…”

“No,” Alwyn shook her head

“It was only a matter of time before something broke, either Lykana’s tolerance or our patience…now is a good a time as any…and I must thank you…specifically Yorna, have you seen her”

“Not yet,” Milaea said “She had to take a ‘long’ way round the caverns to escape, but she’ll be here soon…and she confirmed that the Varangian is one of our kin…Taran,”

“Somehow,” Karintha seethed, “Lykana controls him, he was a Guardian of our people, a function much like your arbitrators and judges, but also a warrior in his prime when…”

Milaea placed a hand on her shoulder, the revelation of her husband’s survival, and condition stirred in Karintha conflicting emotions…primarily cold burning rage.

“…when our people were attacked, for Lykana to control him, she must be a very powerful witch,”

“She is a direct descendant of Allya,” Alwyn explained as they walked along the narrow paths steep drops into thick forests either side of their caravan.

“She genuinely believes she is continuing Allya’s true legacy…and many agree…” Alwyn shook her head frustrations and tensions given voice at last

“Allya was not the scion many make her out to be, she was a powerful but flawed woman who, after uniting the tribes under a single code came to slowly change how she governed from dictatorial to first among equals. It went hand in hand with how she approached the Arts, as she aged she realised the danger in using dark magicks, necromancy, blood magic and eschewed them, cast out those who continued to practice them…”

“The Night sisters?” Milaea clarified

“Yes…her life was long, and legacy mixed…Lykana does represent how Allya ruled for nearly thirty years, albeit more forcefully…the Book of Law my Clan follows came only in Allya’s last fifteen…”

“A mixed legacy indeed…” Karintha noted “…you can both claim her example rightfully…yet surely that which yields most peace and prosperity to the tribes is the better path.”

“And there lies the rub…” Alwyn massaged her own brow

“Before Lykana the tribes were independent, free to trade…but also to raid each other, petty feuds over grazing or hunting rights turned bloody, succession within tribes could be just as bad, civil wars exploited by neighbouring tribes…Lykana ended that with a Wuffa Worm round our throats…too busy gathering tribute then travelling to Blood Peak to fight among ourselves”

Alwyn gazed up through the foliage as the sun reached its peak,

“She went too far though…too far…”

That evening Yorna arrived, emulating Evaea’s Cloak of Shadow she had avoided the Reapers and knew they would be heading to the Refugees clearing.

She was met as she headed to join the others by stares and gasps.  The tale of her battle with the Varangian had already spread.

Jo watched as she wandered past, his heart sinking more and more as he realised what these red headed women scattered among the Clans were.

Aetherians…at least six of them…they all looked alike to him except their hair styles.

And one of them at this moment sat with his child on her lap, chatting to Jeisena who had more from the shattering terror of the force than healing awakened.

“…and then we went on a big run…it was very dark…” Ulwyn told of her ‘adventure with Aunt Kiri’

“Well you were a very brave girl,” Jeisena said approvingly, stroking her daughters face.

“And very well behaved,” Kiraea added before meeting Jo’s gaze for a brief second, recognition and venom in her green eyes.

He needed to tell Li, Yoda, anyone who would listen.  But he had no comms and doubted anyone here did…but he had to look...

Kiraea gently stroked Ulwyn’s hair, for her this was all a big adventure…with a few scary parts…

For Jeisena it was a reminder of far too many mistakes she had made…coming back the largest.

“Come on river sprite, let’s talk to your aunt…” Jeisena said reaching out to Ulwyn and hefting her up.  She wound toward the Chiefs and Clan Mothers areas, the guards eyeing but allowing her through. 

She knew them from before.

Alwyn was speaking with Yzzerhera and the woman who had fought the Varangian…or one of them…they all looked the same.

“Alwyn,” she called out, her sister looking across to her, taking a deep breath and making her apologies.

“Jeisena…Clan Mother a moment…” the elder matriarch nodded and stepped out of the tent

“Well don’t you have great timing…” Alwyn said bitterly

“I came here for my daughter, to name her properly, nothing more,” Jeisena replied defensively

“Fine, we’ll reach the springs tomorrow anyway you can…”

“I know where the springs are, I haven’t forgotten,”

“Really,” Alwyn crossed her arms
“After what? Twenty or more years?”

“I didn’t choose to leave!” Jeisena snapped “And I wish I hadn’t”

“You think it was any better here!” Alwyn replied incredulous

“You have no idea what I’ve been through, what is out there!” Jeisena pointed to the stars
“I was nothing out there, scrambling to eat at times, the chattel mother sent with me I had to sell to survive, the ones that weren’t killed or ran away, I ended up stuck on Nar Shadda selling magick for food,”

Alwyn had no idea what or where ‘Nar Shadda’ was Jeisena realised

“And it was better here! I was left to pick up the pieces after mother died, pay the tribute owed without all the goods and chattel she had sent with you! It took years!”

“Mother sent me away for my own protection, I was fifteen, I had no choice, I never wanted to go, and I couldn’t get back until…recently…”

Resentment at being left to ‘hold the Kodashi Viper bag’ bubbled up…then settled back down as Alwyn truly looked at her sister, face creased by care worn lines, cheeks gaunt from a time undernourished…

“Mother made a mistake…” Alwyn offered a featherfern of peace

“She did…” Jeisena agreed
“But I’m sorry to hear she’s passed…” she looked to Ulwyn
“I’d hoped for her…”

Alwyn stepped closer, Ulwyn who had been lost between all the noisy words reached out with a smile – Alwyn took her hand.

“A nice reunion,” Milaea noted startling Jo who had been watching, not intentionally he had been trying to find a male to speak to that didn’t cower or simply shake their head in the hope of finding some comms device.

“I…I…” he gazed startled at someone he was certain he had seen die in the plasma fires of Ord Mirit.

“Were looking for something like this…” she held up her own commlink

He swallowed hard not knowing what to do.

“You won’t find one…and I won’t let you…come walk with me,” she guided him a few dozen metres toward the edge of the forest.

“I know you’re here for your family, and so are we…so…”

“So…” he finally had the nerve to speak

“So let us be here for our family, circumstances have brought us together in an unusual way…our goals are aligned, Lykana is a threat to your family, and holds one of ours captive…”

“The Varangian,” he sighed contemplating his next words carefully.

“Lykana…” he finally said “sent her bitches to try and kill my wife and daughter…and you know I’m not a forgiving person…”

Milaea nodded, his name was a byword for Outsiders irrational desire for vengeance, yet the People still, as far as they could, respected Jo for it.

“…and I can’t think of anything worse I can do to get back at that schutta than sit back and let you monsters have at her….no offence”

Milaea nodded, she hadn’t even needed to influence him, but there was one more issue to resolve.

“And after?” she asked

“After…” his lips pursed as he forced the next words out. “I forget I ever saw you,”

“I’ll make sure of it,” Milaea agreed.

“I’m sure you will, now…”

Jo grinned wryly

“You wouldn’t happen to be able to get me a lightsaber would you?”

<<<<>>>>

Her husband was alive...in Goddesses knew what painful chains...but Alive.

Karintha stalked the edge of the camptrying to keep her hopes restrained by reality as she diverted toward the wide worn tents of the Magi.

The old woman, Yzzerhera, was seated outside waiting for her, the prescience of the powerful woman perturbing Karintha momentarily before she approached head held high.

“You know why I am here?”

The Magi, inarguably the most powerful woman in the Arts on Dathomir behind Lykana nodded, standing with help from a cane she guided Karintha into the tent where large scrolls were unwound on a small table covered in inky black flowing script.

“These are the writings on the means of controlling a body…” the sand coarse voice of the magi explained as Karintha glanced over the writings, her advanced cognition slowly translating a script she had neer seen before.

There were three mechanisms in the main Yzzerhera explained to achieve the control Lykana had on Taran -

Blood bonding in which a witches blood was injected into the host, burning if they disobeyed – Aethan immune systems would decimate such foreign cells too quickly.

Mental manipulation, essentially an advanced mind trick, again impossible even for a witch of Lykana’s ability to maintain against an Aethan mind that had six times a human's cognitive capacity.

The means had to be Soul Suppression, his very self locked away and replaced by a golem like instinctual obedience to a female that could draw on his muscle memory to fight – and of all the Guardians of the old generation he had the most of that apart from herself and Old Andis.

The only true effective means of breaking such, was breaking the Witch who had performed the Rite before she could enact the ‘Soul Eater’ a trap to destroy the suppressed soul entirely in the event of any attempt to dispell, then waiting out the chains dissolving over an unknown time period. 

And then there was the possibility that after so long suppressed Taran would be...degraded...beyond recovery.

 “The Varangian is more to you than mere lost kin isn’t he,” the Magi said sensing both excitement and dread in the offworld woman

“You are wise magi, he was my mate, and as much as I long to reunite, I must contemplate the risks you have outlined.”

The aged woman nodded

“A hard path to walk, the needs of our People and the needs of ourselves…”

“I am prepared to euthanize him if needed,” Karintha replied

The Magi gazed into her eyes,
“Many would claim that…but you actually mean it,”

There was understanding in the sand worn eyes, the Magi saw what Karintha intended, for Taran and the Dathomiri.

Karintha would not let the opportunity to study and perfect Dathomiri magic to slip, regardless of what occured with Taran, the People could profit immerasabuly from new abilities and allies.

“We all must do what is best for our Peoples,” Karintha noted uncomfortable under the powerful gaze of the old human.

“That is our burden and our joy,” The Magi agreed, knowing full well she herself would need Karintha and her kind for any chance at retribution against Lykana.

<<<<>>>>

The sun rose directly down the path of the ravine onto the small assembly, Alwyn, Yzzerhera, and the other Clan Mothers and chiefs, the Aethans as their guests, a few cousins and of course Jeisena with her child.

Into the small spring she lead her little girl, splashing water over her head, invoking the sprites and spirit of the trees and river to bear witness to the Gods that this child was Ulwyn Hri of the Whistling Caverns, daughter of Jeisena, covering her face with white ochre she added on her Clan and family lines much like her own.

A beaming smile Ulwyn was presented with a number of small name day gifts.

Quietly amidst the trees Jo watched as his daughter took another step away from her Mak’tor heritage, a tear of both sadness at the loss and fear for her future in this growing war.

<<<<>>>>

[Lord_S_Gray]

 

Chapter 38 — The Warrior, the Witch and the Matriarch — Drums of War  — Part 2

Council

“We tracked six scouting groups, 5 Reapers in each operating out of two base camps, one in the caverns the other in the falls to the west,” Knissa briefed the assembled chiefs and headwomen along with Karintha on what her Spider Clan scouts had seen.

“It is only a matter of days before they find us here...if not less,”

“The Varangian?” Ianna asked, limp left arm twitching every time she spoke or heard the title of her punisher.

“Not among them that we could see,”

The Dathomiri position was dire, the ravines were difficult terrain to pass through, and the Whispering Caverns hunters knew dozens of locations to hide in - but with few supplies and many mouths it would only be a week before they were forced to move on.

Yet they had nowhere to go.

“We could,” Karintha offered “Provide you with transport, bring in supplies, until Lykana is dealt with,”

“Dealt with?” Peola asked

“She has abducted and enslaved one of my People, we will not leave until he is freed and his abuser dealt with according to our traditions of judgement.”

Such was far easier said than done, Lykana was a powerful witch, her hold on Taran obviously deep and peppered with failsafes, Karintha needed her and the other women to learn extensively from the Dathomiri on how to deal with both before they engaged Lykana directly. 

“We appreciate the offer,” Alwyn avoided the more threatening note her ‘ally’ had struck on

“But we will not use ships and offworld weapons in this fight, we will live or die following the Book of Law and our traditions...But I agree the Varangian is one of your kind, Lykana has turned to offworld arms first, your participation is justified by her breaching the Law first,”

The other Clan Mothers nodded in agreement.

“Very well, we will respect your choice,” Karintha replied knowing it would make the situation much more difficult, though she had already summoned the other women of the People to bring two of their Destroyers laden with weapons, food and medicine...and provide clandestine orbital surveillance.

“We will use only our native weapons and armour as you’ve seen,”

“We appreciate that,” Alwyn said
“We still must determine what we do from here, we cannot hide, we cannot run, and we could fight but not for long”

“You could march,” Karintha suggested

“March?” Ianna asked

“There are doubtless other tribes who chafe under Lykana’s rule, once they learn her Champion is not only from offworld, but all too mortal, as well as the baseless attack on your caverns, they may be willing to join a larger uprising,”

Milaea had warned Karintha of the strong effect Aethan emotions and thoughts could have on lesser beings, how humanoids could be unconsciously drawn in even without mental manipulation.  She used that now exuding a matriarchal confidence.

“Send word to your allies of these events and march to meet them, you must know hidden ways out of the ravines, then confront Lykana once and for all,”

“I agree, we’ve been cowering too long, it’s time to fight back,” said Aun
One Karintha thought
“Should Lykana send the Varangian you can be confident my People can deal with him,” Karintha assured

Ianna felt the twitch in her arm again, but this time a note of confidence in her bosom, they had in these new allies seven of the Varangians kind, there had never been a better chance.

“Without fear of him I know many tribes would be more than happy to cast off the yoke, the Reapers are vicious but they can be dealt with,” Ianna agreed
Two
“My scouts can carry the word and leave the ravines in two’s and three’s easily,” Knissa added

“But we will need a majority of the clans to show Lykana she has lost their confidence,”

A partial three

They all waited on the words of the ancient Yzzerhera.

“We cannot live so far from our homelands,” her husky voice was respected by all,

“And never before have we had the means by which to truly understand and counter the Varangian...Lykana remains strong, but with her enforcer outed as an offworlder, and our own allies who can contain him,” she glanced toward Karintha

“We shall not have a better chance, and we do not have another choice,”
Four all she needed.

“Then it is agreed, we sent out envoys, gather resources and march to where we can find allies,” Alwyn concluded, all well aware this would be a gruelling task with no guarantee of success. 
 
The witches of Dathomir were cetain of one thing - the only thing worse than all the time they had lived in Lykana’s shadow, was to suffer there for one day more.

<<<<>>>>

First Engagements

“Forty…” Yorna sighed from the top of the thin ridge overlooking the pass.

While there were dozens of ways for a handful of warriors to sneak out of the Ravines into the forests to the south, getting all the tribe's people and chattel meant they were limited to three larger path’s south.

<It will have to do…> Karintha telepathically sent back from the main caravan.  Aethan telepathy had proved a boon to the Dathomiri, it appeared to operate on a frequency of the aether the Reapers could not detect, as a result they had been placed with the spider clan scouts to send back information as quickly as possible to guide the caravan away from Reaper patrols.

<All the other passes are more closed off, forty we can take,>
<And four Rancors?> Yorna added with a hint of excitement
<We will find out soon>

The Dathomiri ‘army’ was small, only 250 warriors in all.  Warfare was meant to be largely non-fatal clashes of Champions common to worlds with small populations, however the Varagian and the Reapers rarely adhered to such.

<We should launch a distraction at one of the other passes> Ari suggested even as she tinkered with Dathomiri Runic charms under the guidance of one of the junior Magi following Karintha’s insistance all learn as much from the Dathomiri as possible.
<Force them to divert troops>

<We can test some illusion techniques…> added Kassyndra intrigued by the ichor based magics she had already read half a dozen tomes saved during the evacuation…only two of which had been given freely, the other four she and Kiraea had snuck off with two nights before.

The word ‘test’ worried Milaea, the Dathomiri did not understand that for the People, being ‘allies’ meant the People learning everything you knew and observing your abilities then hurling you into battles that suited the People.

Ari, Kassyndra and Milaea headed with a group of warriors to the more westerly pass while Kiraea and Evaea joined Yorna overlooking the route they intended to take.

“Time to try those new illusions,” Ari said as the three women crawled through the prickly leafed shrubs spying a patrol of Reaper scouts on the far side of the ravine, distinguished by their avian beaked head pieces, slick form fitting leathers embedded with light green glowing runes that could be activated to to provide a chameloline cloak effect.

“I’ll draw off the scouts,” Ari said as she slipped back into her modified Buried Presence.

Kassyndra began stringing the ritual words drawing as much as she could only on the natural energies of Dathomir while Milaea flicked her fingers drawing a protective circle of Dathomiri warding to protect and conceal them.The younger Aethan finding the primitive darkness of the aether on Dathomir harder to work with despite the similarities to her homeworld. 

Aethas always had a ‘red’ feel, Dathomir was more murky green

Hence the Ichor she mused as the circle was completed and glowed briefly before settling over them.It would’ve been easier to draw on her own power than the planets, but the foreignness would be more noticeable to Reaper witches who were alert.

On the rocky path below shadowy figures coalesced from green smoke woven through Kassyndra’s mind, a march of faux people and carts that became more solid every moment as she wove in more detail.

The scouts were gone, with Saani’s training she was more than capable of playing Chitlik and Nexu with the best hunters, Milaea wouldn’t be surprised if the Scouts found themselves tied and unconscious long after the caravan had gone.

The regular guard spied the illusionary caravan with their curved Glass-scopes.

Excitement rose but the 40 warriors at Yorna’s location remained stubbornly in place

<They’re not taking the bait…>

Alwyn was barely half an hour away with the caravan, they had hoped at least 10 or fifteen would be redeployed to Kassyndra’s distraction.

<Evaea how many can you take before they notice?> she asked the assasination expert

the darker haired woman assessed the overlapping fields of view and positioning on the rocks either side of the path.

<Seven, Nine if the one on the highest look out is facing north for longer than three standard minutes>

<I’ll take that one,> Kiraea replied as they began to move.

Keeping to the shadows and dense foliage clinging between the rocky ledges they slid behind the Reaper lines. Oblivion daggers slid as smoothly into necks as from their sheaths as they set to work.

Evaea methodical and swift eliminated the nine she had promised as Kiraea took the highest then second highest look out. The contrast between the dutiful approach of Evaea and the vengeful glees of Kiraea stark. 

By the time the alarm was sounded they had dispatched 17 in less than two minutes.

The response was rapid, the Reapers forming into threes, Kiraea did not even pause in her aggression, striking hard against one of the retreating Reapers, leaping onto her back and stabbing down in a cascade of blood for all the others to see. 

Runes and spells were activated an instant later, the Reapers inured to brutal combat more than any other Dathomiri,  harnesses tugged to direct the rancors at the attackers.

Evaea half flying leapt onto the back of one taking the riders head, Yorna switching to her bow peppered another with arrows as Kiraea dodged the claws of two nearer ones.

The Aethan women soon found themselves on the back foot against the Reapers, Karintha’s earlier rapid victory over a handful had ill prepared them for a combat ready force, the combination of Dathomiri magick and unique combat style with their electro-weapons and mounts making for a deadly threat when outnumbered.

Ichor and aether ground against each other, two ways of using the force so distinct yet so similar, even as bodies pressed and muscle strained in the clash.  The Reapers human bodies enhanced by narcotic fungi and herbs consumed before combat and powerful Runic enchantments made them, if not a match, then at least able to hold their own for a few moments against Aethan genetic engineering. 

Kiraea’s blackstone blade sliced into thick rancor hide as electro scythes crisped the edges of Yorna’s gormin leather, Evaea danced against the ritual like synchronicity of the Reapers blades and blow darts so like her own toxic armoury.  A few struck the hyperkeratin Aethan skin, but only one breached, immune defences the product of millenia of scientific planning, rapidly destroyed the toxins fatal to most humanoids.

They were pushed harder and harder, the standard tactic of relying on their biological and aetheric endurance to wear the Dathomiri out negated by the rancors extraordinary durability and the Reapers drawing on the ichor of their home world effortlessly.

Driven toward a corner they were only liberated by a sudden wave of arrows from Spiderclan scouts, Whispering Caverns spear vanguard taking the Reapers from behind.

The first blooding of the war ended with forty reapers and four rancors killed for only a few bruised and exhausted Aethans.

More importantly the caravan was able to escape the narrows of the ravines and while it marched south fast running agents were dispatched across the lands to collect allies and resources.

Karintha, eyes narrowed on the opportunities of the present would ensure her People remained at the center of the action.

<<<<>>>>

[Lord_S_Gray]

 

Chapter 38 — The Warrior, the Witch and the Matriarch — Drums of War — Part 3

Recruitment

”The tale of the Flame Haired Woman who defied the Varangian is already spreading,” Hetwoman Ianna began, “Lykana’s most fearsome warrior has met a match…we must spread it further,”

Kassyndra handed over the Gerege. The Silent Ponds Guard looked over them and nodded, the only oddity was they were a bit too clean.

The reason for that of course was they had to remove the blood off from the Emerald-Seas woman they had ‘taken’ it from.

The raid had been short and brutal, Kassyndra, Ianna and her warriors had been tasked with disseminating papyrus paper drawings showing the fight between the Flame haired Woman and the Varangian in the east, the best way to do that was by boat…

After sneaking past the Reapers that patrolled the coastline she and her warriors had accosted the crew in port, and when they declared their undying devotion to Lykana had to find other means to convince them to part with the necessary documents.

A week and some haggling with a more amenable trading vessel from the Brine Coast for whom the Gerege would allow them entry into a number of new ports, and they were now going port to port dropping off papyrus and having their minstrel teach the local artisans the new ‘Ballad of Yarana Red Mane’ and her battle against the Bone and Steel clad ‘Kurgen’.

With a bored sigh the guard handed the gerege back, a determined step she hopped off the gang plank onto the cobbled streets to do it all again.

<<<<>>>>

”There are few resources in the Whistling Caverns to make weapons…but in the north there is Ice Stone, steel, tin…and strong men,” Aun Frost Glade always brightening when she spoke of the North and the pine forests of her home,
“Lykana’s sway is loose there at the best of times, and her envoys few…”

“D’is one, HAW!” the deep bass voice of Haldan the Hetman of the Rinki’s Glaciers boomed across the camp to the laughter of the other men.

A male only camp that the Pine Forest Clan had a Mate raiding relationship with, it was surrounded by harsh granite and frigid ice, the men themselves hairy thick built,,  pale white skin and blonde or red hair.  Haldan by some trick of genetics a head taller than anyone, arms like tree trunks across his chest, canis skulls on his belt, and more than a few old bite scars on his face.

“You have my word she is,” Aun replied standing beside Yorna, whom the men refused to believe was the one who had stood toe to toe with the Varangian – after all their last chief had been killed in the Field of Padraas by the monster.

“Our forces march against the Tyrant Queen, we welcome any who wish to volunteer, and further to trade for your iron and stone,”

“Haw! We trade with you the Varangian will come us!” the man only shouted, given the constant polar winds Yorna could understand why.

He leaned down a little toward the fearless Aun.

“But ere, I’ve no love for the Queen…Hrmm if your champion can beat me and my three best warriors, then we’ll follow you,”

Aun looked to Yorna who nodded agreement.

A circle in the snow was soon marked out and Haldan and three men only a few inches shorter and just as stout surrounded her to the bear like booming cheers of the other men.

“Don’t hurt them too much!” Aun called over the crowd, a series of laughs and boos echoing in reply.

Yorna stood in a loose open stance as the horn blew for the fight to begin.

Human speed was at times comically slow, even with a touch of the arts, the men were much slower.  They knew this of course and hoped their bulk and numbers would compensate.

They had no comprehension that engineered ultra-dense cells and bone meant Yorna weighed as much as three of them combined.

With a quick leap and round house kick straight in the head of the first she half landed on the victims shoulder then leapt to the next, heel in the back of his neck. 

Staying elevated she twisted horizontal to grab the third by the hair and bring his head to the ground with her, rolling up into an upper cut that Haldan barely blocked.

Grunting against the unexpected strength the big man lurched as her rapid combo’s tenderised his thick muscled arms crossed over his face as his companions flopped about in shock.

With a brief pause in her attack Haldan struck back with surprisingly fast sweeps of elbow and knee.  She allowed some to connect if only to emphasise the fact she was far heavier than he expected, they were mild compared to what an Aethan could inflict.

She darted behind, drop kicked him in the back of the knees, sending him down with a grunt.

“Proof enough?” she asked coming in front.

“NrrghhAAAH!” even on his knees he went to grab her, an easy sidestep and she slapped his head into the snow.

“erghhh…” he growled from the ground.

“I believe you Aun Frost Glade…” he relented, brushing himself off while the men looked at Yorna astounded.

“Any who wish to join in the fight may!” he boomed
“Any cowards who wish to keep licking the shavit hole of the Bitch Queen may taste my fist!”

<<<<>>>>

”Many of the Shadow Clans joined Lykana…” Chief Knissa of the Silken Spiders explained “Those that did not have retreated deep underground, their alchemies of deep fungi and stalking skills will be invaluable if we can find them”

The endless drip of ground water leaching back into the caves covered some of their sound.  Or rather hers.

Kiraea squeezed and slid through the narrowest of the lightless gaps attempting to copy Evaea’s Cloaking technique as best she could.

The immediacy of the war effort had let her lose herself in the now, sneaking through airy chambers filled with bulbous thread woven eggs that she could only see with her mass and thermal vision.

The Venom Eye clan were insular even among the various Spiderclans of which Knissa was a part of, staying out of the wars that heralded Lykana’s rise, doing little to deny rumours Lykana had them as private assassins or in complete contradiction had the Varangian eliminate them entirely.

Pressed against a hollow in the wet stone Kiraea simply hoped they had an easier way out of this network of Gaping Spider nests.  The slow tense progress was straining her patience and Evaea was not the best conversationalist.

The scuttling of scores of legs finally passed and she glided fast and smooth to the next opening, each more narrow than the last, she was worried she would come to one too small to enter, Aethans taller and wider than Dathomiri as a rule.

Squeezing her shoulder though she found the other side was a two metre drop, with a gentle twist she landed silently.

But not silently enough.

Her spine tingles with danger and instinctive kinetic shields blocked the poison darts her movements couldn’t avoid.

More came in the absolute dead silence as Evaea followed in

<Attack?> the younger girl asked
<No the sign> Kiraea responded suppressing her own natural desire to unleash a counter attack.

Instead she wove her hands, slapping palms and fingers against her forearms in a sequence Knissa had taught her after Karintha had ‘volunteered’ her and Evaea to undertake the first contact.

The darts stopped and a dim red light lit from the floor.

A face lit from below appeared to hover in the air, an arachnid symbol on the forehead that draped its legs in lines down the face.
“Who disrupts our peace?”

“I am Kiraea, daughter of Aethas…friend…” that word still seemed strange
“..of Knissa of the Silken Spiders.  She sends greetings and this…”  Kiraea took out the lock of hair and threw it.

It never even hit the ground so swift were their skills, impressing even Evaea. Karintha was right there was much they could learn from these Dathomiri as their ‘allies’.

“..many clans have united against the Dread Queen, they seek the friendship of all the sister clans tribes of the Spider,”

The face vanished into black.

“We will consider your words,”

<<<>>>>

”All the old places of power…” Clan Mother Yzzerhera explained ancient thin finger hovering over a map older than she of Bolma skin, not roads but  Ichor Lines that flowed between shrines and hallowed natural places of power.
“Have been taken over by Lykana’s Covens, energies diverted straight to her…we break the dams to empower our witches and diminish hers,”

Like a twisted gnarled piece of drift wood the Tower of Burra near faded into the pouring rain along the coast.

There was no obvious defence or checkpoint along the muddy road, even so Milaea and the old Magi were cautious to approach through the overgrown hard leaf shrubs.

The power of the place went deep into the cliffs that overlooked the ocean, it seemed older than stone of the tower, perhaps built upon a nexus point of the ancient Kwa species rumoured to have once dwelt here.

Crouching at the edge of the clearing around the tower they saw shadows move past the fire lit windows within.

“Only four,” Milaea whispered, tough given the pounding rain that reverberated off her gormin leather cloak she ought to have yelled to be heard.

“Yes…but strong witches still…what Ichor energies are not sent to Blood Peak, they draw on for their own use.”

The Magi paused

“This is a task for the young I think…”

Yzzerhera was strong in the aether, a practised Magi exceeded only by Lykana herself according to the other witches, and Milaea suspected stronger than Kiraea or Ari…but the Magi was physically frail.

With a respectful nod Milaea stalked forward, presence suppressed using one of the new stealth variants from the spider clans.

Swift Jedi parkour climbed the side of the tower, peeking into the wide open centre where three witches chanted around a deep glowing ichor pool, a younger fourth attending to the various Totems on the walls that chained and directed the energies of this place. Dathomiri Magick was sufficiently distinct from Aethan Arts to give Milaa some pause. 

Observing the chants for a full cycle to understand the nature of the incantations and purpose, Milaea struck fast and hard.

Glass shikkars shattered four of twelve totems Ichor Crystals, two more from her oblivion daggers as she dropped from the window onto the Fourth witch, knee slamming the woman into the ground, throat first into unconsciousness.

Half their totems gone the witches broke incantations summoning defences – vicious glowing phantasms, sense altering perceptual distortions, and hate filled curses.

The combination was intense, forcing Milaea on the defensive, Dathomiri counter spells she was practicing overwhelmed, replaced by more familiar Aethan Arts.

Walking against tidal waves she needed to exert physical superiority, narrowing on the first witch, shattering the perceptual illusions that tried to make the path ahead seem millions of miles, inverted up and down.

A vast Rancor illusion swiped at her with dripping claws, a malacia curse tingled her stomachs.  The witches darted back with ichor trails, frustrated Milaea hammered on, eyes darting to the ichor pool.

Rashly she drew up the raw powers of Dathomir for herself, inexpertly crafting a cage of ichor to surround her target – astoundingly it worked, the next escaping leap failed and Milaea elbowed the witch hard enough to instantly concuss.

The victory had not been her own, behind her was a glowing youthful dusky skinned woman, drawing on the ichor to assist Milaea.  She recognised the face as the younger illusionary form of the Magi.

Two on two the spell casting intensified, Milaea following Yzzerhera’s lead, imitating her defence and attacks while adding stabs of Aethan curses that confounded the Witches defences with its novelty.

One  broke under a mental suppression that sent her scratching her skin believing woffa worms were crawling beneath, the last managed to get off a solid malacia blast that caused Milaea to retch bile into her mouth before she could backhand her head into the wall.

“As I said…” The Magi spoke shuffling inside, visibly trembling not from cold but exhaustion at the effort.

“A task for the young, in body and spirit,” she smiled

<<<<>>>>

”No matter how many join our cause, if we cannot assemble them in force Lykana will pick us off…we will need the River Clans to if not join us, at least not stand in our way at their check points,” Chieftain Peola herself of the Saphhin Lakes and River spoke.

“Those rivers are the veins of the continent the fastest way to move warriors, most of the clans have a strong focus on trade, stymied by Lykana’s tributary demands, and a love of offworld novelties…”

 He sat slightly uncomfortably with the weight of his ‘new’ sabre ever present against his back.

The weapon was utilitarian and plain, a former training sabre reworked with a proper power cell belonging to his temporary ‘mistress’.

“…I said show the Chieftan!” she said with a shrill voice that did not suit her features.

“Apologies mistress,” Jo grunted opening the box full of spare power cells from his Aethan Allies.

“Refined Tibanna gas, they will last three times longer than regular power cells,” Aresaea said keeping her voice aloof. 

On the winding trip to the Spring River Clans hub upon an island at the confluence of three of the rivers they plied with fast felucca’s, sails showing their clan symbol of Breen Fish proudly, he had found Aresaea quite open and friendly. 

They had made a brisk pace compared to his earlier travels with just the two of them, pausing only in a few small clearings to practice his forms with the new saber, a rich red-purple colour she had explained was created by a Kyber crystal from Lus’Phor near Galtea.

While Aresaea wasn’t forthcoming on how she came to be there she at least made general conversation about the issues facing the Gray orders in the wake of Grand Master Kimar’s...’demise’... and the events surrounding Lucovis defeat.

“I’m sure you won’t mind us trialling a few?” The Chieftan, a plump woman with turquoise face paint over a white base in gentle wave lines replicating the calm river waters replied.

“Of course, slave?” Ari addressed Jo.  Naturally once they were among the clans she had to play the part of Mistress to his slave. 

Handing over a few cells to an equally submissive male slave the Chieftan leaned back.

“Was there something specific you desired for the power cells, we have many chattel far younger and more handsome than that weary old thing,” the Chieftan sniffed in Jo’s direction.

Ari had to suppress a giggle as she replied in true Dathomiri Matriarchal style

“No I have enough males to serve my needs, I only take this one out as he is already so spoiled I don’t mind if he is damaged further.”

It wouldn’t have been out of place from Jeisena he thought, briefly wondering how she and her sister were getting on.

“I would rather friendship and a blind eye,” Ari said discreetly, removing a small scroll of papyrus from her robe and handing it across.

The Letter from Chieftain Peola set out the requirements of the growing rebellion, the need to ferry troops and equipment from the northern forests down the river especially.

The rotund Chieftan’s mouth seemed to chew in thought as she read it, weighing up her options.

“With so many of our barges transporting Tribute to the Great Queen…we have few to patrol the northern stretches of the river…” she finally said with a knowing wink.

“…so I’m glad to accept your gift of friendship,”

<<<<>>>>

[Lord_S_Gray]

 

Chapter 38 — The Warrior, the Witch and the Matriarch — Drums of War — Part 4

Edge of Action

The vast size of Dathomir comparative to the population was boon and curse - it was easy to avoid Lykana’s patrol’s but also required many a hard hike through terrain replete with dangerous wild animals, horned Drebbin in the mountainous region, simian perbole in the forest and occasional stampedes of Baz nitch on the plains.

Riding on loyal old Gush, a rancor her mother had rode, Alwyn received a steady stream of good news as they marched south.

The ‘Coalition’ army as they termed themselves was not huge, just over 250 warriors and 30 Rancors, for a planetary population of just over 10,000 living in tribes and clans of 100-200 people each it was substantial.  The larger caravan half a days march behind numbered just over 400.


Promises of support and small trickle of warriors returned with her scouts and diplomats trickled in each day, Northmen, assisted down river by the Spring River Clan - 60 huge male warriors - free-women of the eastern seas, Venom clan members slipping in with their spider clan brethren

Her Aethas born allies had proved invaluable in getting the word out quickly and widely, and the story of the Varangian being fought to a standstill their greatest tool.

Their strategy was simple, to march south to the Whistling Mountain and Frenzied River where they would join another group of warriors forming there.

The caravan of civilians could shelter with the clans further south while army marched north toward Rancors Tooth, hopefully picking up more clans along the way.

On the whole Matriarchs were far more reasonable than men were when it came to warfare, eschewing outright warfare in most cases.

If they could assemble enough clans together, show that Lykana had lost the confidence and support of a majority that was willing to fight if necessary she would have no choice but to either risk an outright battle – no longer a sure victory given the Aethans ability to counter the Varangian - or, Goddess willing, abdicate her power to a Council of Matriarchs.

Spiderclan scouts and local tribal leaders made sure the kept to the safest paths away from wild animals as they headed south pivoting to the Western Coast and Blue Coral village - a fishing township - where ships laden with goods and warriors from the eastern continent were awaiting them bolstering the numbers by a further 70 warriors.

Intelligence indicated Lykana could call upon a force of just over 600 all told, of which 150 or so were her fanatical Reapers.

The Reapers wouldn’t hold back, so far there had only been a few light skirmishes among scouts, but Alwyn knew inevitably they would try larger ambushes eventually.

They were able to march with confidence though, not afraid of the Varagnain tearing into them in bloody hit and runs, Karintha who astoundingly kept pace with Old Gush on foot the surety that the Varangian could be dealt with.

Alwyn spared a glance down at the purposeful stride of the Aethan woman, face set with a confident touch of a smile.  It was obvious to her now the aethans, and the Varanigan were not human despite appearance, their physical strength and speed exceptional.

Not a day went by when Alwyn didn’t see them around the camp inquiring on some subject of Dathomiri culture or magick, practising with troubling proficiency advanced spells, or walking along, tinkering with runes  and totems, reading scrolls or spell books.

She knew they had come here to trade and learn, but the rapidity and breadth of their intellectual hunger was astonishing, Alwyn doubted there were any pieces of writing in the caravan they hadn’t read by now.

Karintha looked up offering a supportive smile even as she felt the thinnest ripples of suspicion from the Whistling Caverns Chief and de-facto leader of the army.

Everything was proceeding according to her designs, the remaining women of the People would arrive soon, she would have Xanaea take on orbital surveillance duties for intel, though she would not share the fact directly with her selectively technophobe Dathomiri allies.

They headed south and inland for the next three days, skirting the Great River Tribal lands, a handful of warriors joining them, but largely scouts reported villages along coast and inland abandoned, cowered by warnings from Lykana.

Karintha did not mind the slow pace, each day her People gained more and more knowledge of Dathomiri magic and culture, and with each successful recruitment mission - and soon enough each successful battle - she made the Witches more and more reliant upon the People.

<<<<>>>>

Canvas, hide, leather and flax tents peppered the Ylysan fields below, interspersed were wide pens where Rancors sat grunting and waiting.

Hundreds of men laboured felling the surrounding trees and digging defensive ditches, back and forth from the distant quarry bringing stone on their backs or quickly fashioned carts.

Smoke from blacksmiths darkened the air from the five points dotted around the camp and mingled with the green haze of ichor from the covens infusing the weapons they forged with mass produced enchantments.

Lykana allowed herself a small smile from the top of the Rancors Tooth – a jagged cream Tor capped by a dusty grey castle jutting up in the midst of the seemingly endless fields that had been used since the time of the ancient Kwa as a castle or watch tower to control the surrounding fields and farm lands. 

Blood Peak was the base of her Magickal powers, but Rancors Tooth was better placed for the assembly of her armies, closer to the granaries, impossible for any force to sneak up toward for the vast views it offered of the surrounds, and no more than a two day march to many of the most populated and wealthy Tribelands and hamlets.

Here she could muster her forces and show she still had majority support...though ideally Alwyn would never manage to reach here at all.

“My Queen,” her Equerry interrupted
“You guest has arrived,”

Spinning on her heel she returned into the shadowy halls of the Tor top castle she had rebuilt years before, a physical demonstration of her power to the farmers of the region and the many caravans that used it as a cross roads land mark. 

The Varangian close behind the hooded visitor was awaiting her in the vast hall replete with half empty crates and boxes, her slaves having yet to complete decorating it to her satisfaction and now dismissed so she could speak in confidence with her ‘guest’.

Throwing back his hood the Iridonians horns and facial tattoos were immediately evident marking him as non-human, the bloodlust in his aura delicious to her taste. 

The enormous warrior of the Zabrack species glared at the Varangian with a mix of envy and violent intent.  Lykana had long known that Dathomir was vulnerable to offworlder attack, as a counter balance she had retained the services of the Iridonian 14th Legion led by the man before her, Ima-Kun.

“Who is the enemy and where can I find them,” he said brusquely, while a mercenary the Iridonians were a culture of such savagery they were said to turn on each other in the absence of an enemy to fight – the gold and minerals she supplied were of less interest to Ima-Kun than having someone to unleash his primal rage upon.

“A rebel faction has risen on Dathomir, they are supported by Offworlders,”

It was an egregious sin to turn to offworlders for help, Lykana had to be cautious she could only use her own mercenaries in response to Alwyn openly using hers or she would lose the support of the Clans.

“Numbers and species?”

“Perhaps a dozen, species…some type of meta-human they have power like my own bodyguard and what you call Jedi abilities,”

“Hrrrnnnn…” she could feel the lust for battle rising in the vicious creature, such raw power was an intoxicating prospect, she wondered if they could be cross bred with humans

Ima-Kun had a particular hate for Jedi, though he had only seen one at the end of a decades long war with the Echani.

For generations the two warrior species had been engaged in glorious warfare, his Legion, the 14th had been created from war orphans such as himself taken as children or infants from hovels across Iridonia and forged into Legion, for twenty years they had fought, their numbers dwindling as their viciousness rose, until a Jedi delegation had come and established as truce.

The Legions were disbanded, while the other 13 legions could return to some kind of life on Iridonia, the 14th had been soldiers since they could walk, they needed an enemy…and sought one among their own kind…not knowing what else to do the Iridonian Conclave exiled the unwanted Legion of an ended war, 1600 warriors with no other skills and more bloodlust than could be contained they quickly found their calling as mercenaries.

He was well aware, Jedi - and these Witches - were incredibly dangerous opponents alone, combining such….

“A problem?” Lykana noted the pause.

“No!” the barely sentient creature snapped, the Varangian’s hand twitching toward his blade.

The Iridonian eyed him for a moment, Lykana had known ever since Ima-Kun first saw the Varangian he was desperate to try his strength against him – he would soon get his wish in a round about way.

“Where are they?”

<<<<>>>>

“Looks like someone isn’t playing fair!” Lyaea smiled as she picked up the transport leaving the atmosphere, it's pathetic attempt to hide with a Seinar thermal -mass displacement generator no match for the more advanced Chiss Scanners of the Aertemisaea

“Who isn’t” Xani beside her asked the youngest Aethan still puzzling over all the buttons needed to fly a Destroyer.

Karintha had quickly summoned the rest of the People to assist in the war effort and reclamation of Taran.  Lyaea, impatient as always had not understood why they didn’t just use Orbital drop pods and a retinue of Vong to swipe Taran out of there.

Yet Karintha had spoken so forcefully and convincingly of the risks of losing Taran for good, and the vast benefits of having the Dathomiri witches as allies everyone had agreed.

“The Queen down there,” Lyaea went on to her little sister

“They are not meant to use off worlders to help fight…”

“Isn’t that what we are as well?”

“Yes but Outsider rules don’t apply to us sweetling, we are above such things,”

Xani nodded understanding

“Outsiders can make rules for other outsiders but not for People,” she affirmed, her voice slowly taking on an Aethan accent.

“That’s right, now how shall we deal with this do you think?”

“Hmmm….well they haven’t done anything yet…so maybe if they do…we shoot them down to keep things fair?”
 
“We could, although then we won’t learn much about who they are,” Lyaea gently suggested guiding her

“Oh right like Karintha said we need to learn more about how they fight and stuff…maybe we wait till some to the planet then get the rest half way, that way we can see how they fight in space and ground,”

“Very good”, Lyaea agreed.  Were it up to her she’d send Shikkar torpedoes into their carrier this instant…but it seemed it was not anymore.

Lyaea could see what was happening, Karintha was using this war to take the position of Matriarch of the People and, much like the Extolled, turn the Dathomiri into an unwitting client faction to be harvested for knowledge and resources.

“Why don’t you tinker with the scanners, see what kind of ships they are using then look up the schematics and find the best way to break them?” Lyaea suggested

“Like a puzzle!”

“Exactly like a puzzle,”
In this war and among the People, all the pieces were coming together.

<<<<>>>>

[Lord_S_Gray]

 

Chapter 38 — The Warrior, the Witch and the Matriarch — Drums of War — Part 5

“Reinforcements have arrived…” Sofa grunted dumping the 300 kilo crate to the ground, Jenaea, Selaena and Adaea behind her each carrying or levitating their own boxes full of weapons, Aethan leathers, food and herbal medicines.

Everyone simply went back to their tasks around the camp situated in the rolling hills near , Milaea and Ari practising spells, Kiraea and Yorna trying out electrostaff techniques, Kassyndra and Evaea observing Spider clan suppression enchantments being inducted into skin paint.

“Well don’t everybody thank me at once…” Sofa sighed.

“Thank you Sofa,” Karintha coming from behind said with a touch of mirth, the two women had little time to get to know the other, of all the new faces Karintha found Sofa the hardest to understand given her Jedi background.

“You’re welcome, I also dropped Maes, Lydan and the Extolled off on Wayland to join the others sweating like stuck gamorreans training in the jungle,” the black haired woman sighed again, Karintha again noting Sofa had a -'dramatically depsairing’ flair in all her gestures

“A good move,” Karintha replied gratefully, having all the men nearby would be beneficial if the offworlders Lyaea had detected made a move.  

“So what the sitch?”
“Sitch?”
“Situation,”
“Our forces are growing, I am studying means to break Taran free from Lykana’s control, we will march soon,”

“Wonderful more carrying stuff longer distances,” Jenaea sighed inelegantly divesting herself of her pack, her snide attitude  however justified given her experiences -  Karintha now appreciated was perfectly suited to having Sofa train her, it would’ve grated on Karintha far too much.

“Hopefully not for long, the armies are small, rarely over a few hundred, battles are fought between groups of 10 to 30 champions…with our help the conflict will be short,”

“Well let’s hope it doesn’t come to that…,” Sofa replied sensing something…odd that she hadn’t felt before, not just Dathomir itself, but on what she called the ‘Aethan Bandwidth’ a gravity about Karintha that drew events to and orbiting around her.

“…I might go find Milaea,” Sofa added, not wanting to directly ask what was going on just yet.

As she wandered the camp she could’ve sworn she saw a familiar Gray Jedi face.

<<<<>>>>

Tightening his belt Jo reached down for his new saber only to find it gone.

“Curious weapon…” came a not quite familiar voice behind him.
Alwyn inspected the light saber intently before handing it to her sister’s mate.
“You are skilled in it, yes?”

“Yes Mistress,” he said submissively so as to not offend the chief.

“Ha you need not be so formal with me, unlike my sister I don’t hold males as completely beneath my contempt…and you are an off-worlder, outside our Law - in fact I wished to speak with you,”

“Me, what about?”

“I am curious…why you remain Jeisena’s mate given your…background,”

“I’m guessing she told you how we met.”

“She did…”

Jo breathed out, one less part of his disastrous past to retell…but then was it so bad.

“My people, the Mak’tor, believe strongly in family, Ulwyn is my family, and so is Jeisena, I won’t ever abandon them,”

“Although they are not the family you desired and your culture does not enforce as ours does?”

“I wouldn’t say that…none of this is the life I would’ve planned, but then who does get such a life,”

“No one…the Fates weave their own thread absent the cries of the skein,”

“Ha, I’ll have to remember that one,”

Alwyn smiled

“You are a man of honour Jo’Set’Mack, you serve Ulwyn and Jesiena well…not just here on Dathomir but before,”

She placed a hand on his shoulder making him feel slightly discomforted

“You have my thanks for that, as much as I loathed my sister escaping Dathomir…now I understand it was not to freedom or peace…I am thankful she found a worthy mate,”

There was more than a little envy in her voice.

“Well I…I’ve made my mistakes…lots of them,”

“As have we all,” she said turning to part,

“Fight well Jo’Set Mack…I look forward to hearing your feats of arms with your curious weapon.” She said as she went back into the growing bustle of goodbyes as the warriors prepared to leave.

“Thanks,” he said quietly looking at the sabre feeling the warmth of her touch on it still

No one had spoken to him so kindly since…
Maker he couldn’t even remember!

“So you are joining the Northmen's camp I hear?” the similar but condescending tone of Jeisena interrupted his thoughts.

“Fanged God help us if you are among their chosen warriors,” She sneered even as she bounced Ulwyn in her arms, his daughters face was proudly painted in her clan colours now.

“Yes mistress,” he sighed

She remained quiet for a moment.

“Don’t you dare die, I command it,” she finally said.
“Fool though you are, you at least provide well for my child…and myself,”

A tight half smile was his reply, he knew better than to expect a chance to hold his daughter or even receive a kiss from his mistress before he left to fight for their lives.

Both Hri sisters had now drastically pissed Lykana off, unless she was removed from power they, and critically Ulwyn, would never be safe.

“Stay safe Jeisena,” he finished buckling his saber.

<<<<>>>>