Never Surrender

JP with Lucian and Omni

Tarmen stumbled after his initial attack, inadvertently tackling another man. Prepared to grapple, he felt the smack made by the mans head on the wall and gratefully noted one death already.

The cramped space of their battlefield afforded Tarmen time to recover as spear thrusts skittered off of the walls in failed pursuit.

Heaving himself up, his blade went to work protecting his life. A half ring had formed around him and each man exploited any opening.

While holding them off fairly well, he sucked his teeth at each point that pierced his ragged leather armor.

The first warrior tumbled forward doubling over. Then Voah thrusted forward and upward, spearing a second man through the heart. The spear snapped off as she pulled it back and began her dance with death. Her body had to weave between thrusts which took their toll on her bleeding arms from blocks and deflection. The tunnel was awash in mould light as the movements shook the stuff free from their bodies.

The time for defense was over. She was surrounded by the mould-folk and so she had to distance herself or spread them out. Fists, elbows and knees crushed their targets but it would not be enough to stop a group this large. She backed into Tarmen, both of them against a wall now.

Voah snapped the remaining shaft of the spear in two and began using the two pieces as batons, batting away the weapons of the gang in front of her.

She batted them left and right and although some of the mould-folk had taken heavy blows from the Arbiter, one replaced another, switching off to Tarmen when they had enough of her, until finally one blow from a spear to the side of the knee took Voah down.

On her knees now, she heard the familiar bark of the mould-woman who emerged from behind the three that had her cornered. They split as the woman walked right between them and butted Voah in the temple with the back of her spear. Then kicked her in the face as she went down.

The mould-woman spilled foul curses from her mouth as she bent down and grabbed the Arbiter’s face, pulling her chin up to meet her own gaze. She was taunting Voah now. Then she let the others punch and kick her until Voah stopped moving. She hurt in so many places but noticed that her abdomen was left unscathed. They didn’t want her dead and she had a horrifying realization why.

As the mould-folk began to carry her limp body away, she could see Tarmen fighting off a very large warrior, three other mould-folk were lying near his feet.

———

Voah slipped out of time and space and was climbing the beautiful monastery steps in the borders of Mizar and Kru’ll.

She had heard of their fighting monks there and trained for the last 6 years there on her way to becoming an Arbiter.

It was a hard day of training, they raced up the mountain and she was the first. She was tired when she reached the top of the precipice, overlooking a village below. There were four other monks waiting for her in fighting stances. One of them was Abbot Yan’Dian. What were they doing here? This wasn’t part of the training today.

Without a word, the monks surrounded her and the fight began. She only managed to take out one in her state of exhaustion. The other two grabbed her by the arms and held her. Then the Abbott approached with a grimace on his face.

“There is no greater pleasure than seeing a prideful student fail… especially an Arbiter in training.”

Those words rang through her head. They meant more to her now. Back then she just thought that the Abbott liked to punish fools and that if you were to be an Arbiter, you must be the best. That was only half right. She was certain now that he was a Vauxian in hiding...

"You are beaten... yield!" he roared.

Close to surrender, Voah stared him down as tears streamed down her face.

“Why?” was all she could muster. She had never seen him like this.

He spoke with an ill tone, “You are a vengeful, spiteful little girl... But you have Vastad’s fire in you. A fire that cannot be sated. A fire that you must use as fuel of your own.” he closed his eyes then with a pained expression and finally looked back to her with a tear of his own.

“You must learn to control your fire, control your hatred, or it will consume you too… You will NEVER… be one of us… Voah Sahnsuur. And by the Gods… may you NEVER become an Arbiter!”

Not him too. She had heard it from the beginning of her time with the church, from others, young men and women. Jealous and afraid they were. The truth was that he had always despised her, had hoped she would fail out on her own… but she WAS the best and he had to create a chance to be rid of her.

This was the moment it all turned around for her in the Abbott’s eyes. When she got out of the hold, she fought them tooth and nail and when she had beaten the others, she came after Yan’Dian next. She gave him a good fight, one that she nearly won.

Ever since that day, the Abbott took her under his wing. But the last few years after leaving the monastery had taken their toll on her and she was blinded anyway by her hatred for the witches she tracked down, forgetting Yan’Dian’s wisdom about humility and self control… becoming exactly what he feared. Though she never knew if the news made its way back to him.

———

She flashed back to lucidity. The mould-folk were dragging her and the memory of her past hit her like a bolt of thunder.

She yanked her arms free, it was easy as they were slick with blood. A scream of rage, of insecurities, growled from her throat. She rolled and scrambled to her feet. Two of the mould folk immediately stabbed forward with their spears but she grabbed them both by the haft and kicked the mould-woman who was approaching from the middle. Then she twisted her body kicking off of the others and breaking their spear tips off. She would use them as daggers to fall back into the melee and lead the dance of death.