The Taint

Her steps follow those of Somnuma as they get away from the centre of Makhlubi. The moment the horsewoman picked the Saintess up in her arms, they did not linger in the city. Not that anyone seemed to pay particular attention to them, aside from the regular bewitched looks. The bystanders probably thought they were simply carrying their exhausted friend.

    Despite this, Timoria can’t suppress her nervousness. She glances around, keeping her hands pressed against her chest, as if the latter wasn’t already enough struggling against the delicate fabric framing her silhouette.

    They haven’t said a word in a while now, enclosing the stone walkway, stretching from one end to the other of the misty sea. It is still night, the Moon offering though enough visibility to confirm that no one is crossing the bridge. Unless being a ghost, maybe.

“What do we do with her… Somnuma?” Timoria finally dares to ask.

    Slowing her pace, the horsewoman doesn’t reply at once. She takes her time to glance back at her, a severe expression over her features. Not a word crosses her lips.

    Thin ribbons of mist brush her feet as, focusing back ahead of herself, she steps closer to the edge of the walkway.

“Isn’t that obvious?” Somnuma utters sternly, still holding the Saintess in her arms. “We have to get rid of her. There are too many things she’s aware of.”

    Timoria’s heart misses a beat.

“Do we really need to go this far? Maybe we can…” She trails off. The words don’t come.

    Deep down, she knows there’s no other way. It’s not the first time they have had to go to such an extent, after all. Maybe not herself directly, but she is pretty sure Somnuma already had to deal once with one of their folks who wanted to reveal their shared secret. A secret kept away from the fox ears of their ruler. There was also that case, like four years ago, when a popular lady of the night was poisoned by one of them. Such a kind catgirl… She felt sorry for Mira. If only things could have been different…

“We both know this is a risk we can’t take.” Somnuma concludes. “Not when Ard Ramalia’s future depends on that.”

    Not objecting any more, Timoria nods. But as Somnuma takes another step closer to the mist void underneath, an arrow whizzes through the air, nearly blinding Somnuma if not for the rapid step back she has taken.

“Don’t dare to…” An ominous voice raises from a nearby orchard.

    An elven silhouette stands metres away, perched over a tree branch.

    Before Timoria has even the time to react, Somnuma approaches her, forcing her to take hold of the Saintess.

“Handle her. I’ll take him down.”

“Hu-huhh??”

    This is not how she expected things to go. Why did they have to become so complicated? Will they also have to kill this Daoine Sidhe? It shouldn’t be difficult for Somnuma, though. Thanks to her benediction, she would be able to make him fall asleep the moment he would hold her gaze. Somnuma came from somnum after all, which meant slumber.

    But, in this case, why can she still hear the echoes of their fight? The click of the metal against the rocks thrown his way, the hurried steps since the elf quitted his perch.

    As she looks their way, Timoria sees that the Daoine Sidhe has abandoned his bow for a sword, confronting his blade against two short, curved ones. Somnuma has just conjured them, shaping them out from the black sand grains which congregated together.

“End that madness now, Timoria. We can still figure it out together.”

    The voice calls close to her, so close that it makes her shiver. So close that her heart misses a beat.

    The same way it does at the feel of the cold dagger against her throat.

***

“Can I ask you one thing?” I held Tyffeon’s gaze.

“Speak.”

“I’ll try to convince Timoria to confess her crimes and those of her kind to her ruler. But, just in case somebody tries to stop me, can you track us when we quit this place?”

    At my request, Tyffeon considered me for a while before replying with a nod.

***

    The moment Somnuma got away from me is the moment I began to stir awake. Not that the nearby havoc could keep me asleep for long.

    Discreetly, I have taken hold of the dagger I asked Tyffeon to give me earlier.

    Timoria isn’t focused enough, or at least not on what she should. I can feel her stiffen as she understands her mistake.

“We don’t need to be enemies.” I continue. “I can still keep the promise I made to you. Nobody has to die tonight.”

“Whatever I say… Somnuma won’t listen. She won’t agree.” Timoria protests.

    In front of the bridge, Miss Somnuma keeps parrying Tyffeon’s blows. As he throws it neatly at her waist, she holds the blade away with the back of both her curved weapons, at the narrow hollow where the blade meets the hilt. Pretty much resembling small khopeshes in my world.

    At first sight, it may appear that they are on an equal footing as they fight. But slowly, reluctantly, she takes a step back. With each blow, Tyffeon forces her to back off.

“What a coward of a man. Are you unable to hold the gaze of the woman you’re fighting?” She baits.

    A trap Tyffeon wouldn’t fall for.

“You won’t fool me, woman.” He snarls back. “I have no intentions to let you use your benediction on me.”

    Even from where I am, I can swear that the statement makes her wince. I guess having your trump cards exposed before having a chance to make use of them is ragebait material. Unfortunately for her, before I left Tyffeon earlier, I happened to share some of my wisdom with him. Though, I admit I wonder where he focuses his gaze at the moment, since he has to avoid her eyes…

“Timoria, you say it like you only follow her will.” I begin, holding her gaze. “But in truth, isn’t it rather she who follows yours?”

“Uhh? What are you saying?”

“You’re so afraid you don’t even control it, do you?”

“Control it?” She frowns.

    Timoria is her name.

“You find it normal that a woman with such composure decides to get rid of the Saintess after kidnapping her before the eyes of so many possible witnesses?” I pause, only to see her eyes fill with uncertainty.

    Timore is the root.

“She wouldn’t have done such a reckless thing, she would have thought it over… if not for an unreasonable fear.”

    Fear is the meaning.

    Her eyes wide open, she doesn’t reply, just realising what she has done.

“Accursed man…” Somnuma mumbles. “you shouldn’t have come to this kingdom. All you both leave in your wake is misfortune for the folk.

    Deflecting one more blow, she swiftly spins her blades in her hands, lunging forward with all her might, the numerous golden sticks hanging over her chest revealing a glimpse of the curves of her breasts as the jewels dangle back and forth.

    The attack forces Tyffeon to take a few steps back.

    But this time, before he has the opportunity to attack in turn, she backs off with a jump.

“I won’t let you leave this place alive.” She mid-closes her eyes.

    In an instant, the sand around Tyffeon begins to twirl, elevating from the ground in a black swirl. If the hope of Somnuma was to blind him, that hope seems to find its satisfaction as he covers his eyes with his free arm.

    However, as every hope does, the latter vanishes the moment she hurls herself on him. Because the moment she does so, the black whirlwind is not only undone but the sand is propelled at her as Tyffeon uses his benediction to expel it with a headwind.

    Blinded instead of the one she intended to trap, there’s nothing she can do about the mighty knee that suddenly encounters her belly, seconded by a strike from Tyffeon’s hilt at her back. Forcing Somnuma to have an intimate meeting with the source of her magic or, shortly, the ground.

“No! No, no, no!” Timoria’s voice becomes high-pitched as her pupils narrow. “Yaaaaaaahhhh!!!”

    At her sudden shout of despair, I barely have the time to widen my eyes before she hurls me down against the walkway. Pouncing forward.

    Fear is frightening. The way it can affect someone submitted to its power… I could have cut her throat at her sudden move, I could have killed her in a single blow,… and yet she chose a desperate move.

    Chose? Is it the man who chooses to fear, or the fear who chooses the man…

    The moment I get back to my feet, Timoria already reaches Tyffeon’s side.

    A pulse. An unease.

    He widens his eyes at her approach, affected by her benediction as his sword escapes his grasp, falling to the ground.

    Her moves make it blatant. Timoria doesn’t even think. She acts. She reacts with a rapidity only fear can gift with.

    In a blink of an eye, she’s over him, pinning Tyffeon to the ground.

    In a blink of an eye, her teeth sink into his throat.