Chapter 28:
Tales from Zemliharos: Night of The Striga
At dawn, Peter honored his appointment with the High Priest, though he felt less suited for his guidance and assistance on his powers more than ever before after his evening prior. Yet, he knew if he didn’t learn to master his bestial form, even with an army behind him, countless more would die and his efforts would all be for not. This power within him was all that stood between salvation and death. When he met the priest in front of the cathedral, he didn’t take him inside. Instead, he led him down the path behind the cathedral, down the stairwell that led directly onto the beach. Peter could feel the mix of sand, rock and algae all brushing upon his boots while the priest stood opposite of him, his scepter firmly planted within the sand.
“Strike me as a Krsnik.”
“You don’t understand, I co-”
The High Priest lowered his scepter with blinding speed and struck Peter in the back. The sudden force verberated through his body as he tried to gather his bearings but found himself plopping face first into the sand. He spit out the rocky bits of sediment that were now stuck in between his teeth. He could feel a deep anger ruminating through him as he got to his feet, though he feared what would happen if he transformed and struck at a mere human. The priest kept his staff in a low stance all the same, his face firmly emotionless. “You have eyes but cannot see. Faith is what you lack, not only in the Anointed, but in yourself.”
“I don’t have a clue wha-”. The Priest's breakneck speed struck Peter straight in the gut, the blow knocking him onto his back. He rolled out of the way as the Priest struck down at him on the ground, “Are you out of your Goddamn mind?”
“Faith comes in many forms. In order to maintain and channel your gift, you must fulfill your belief within yourself.”
The Priest struck at Peter again, hitting him firmly in the nose. He could feel the blood rushing through it as his rage caught up with him. No more playing around, he felt like he’d rip off his arm if he tried another cheap shot like that again. Within a moment's notice, he felt his anger change his body and a flash of blinding light boomed from around him. He was within the form of a bear again.
In his provoked state, he struck at The Priest with his claws halfway extended, ensuring that while he wouldn’t die, the blow would be enough to render him too wounded to fight for at least a few weeks. With his enhanced speed, he struck at the Priest, but his deceptive speed allowed him to sidestep the blow. “You’ll have to be faster than that, Stirgas move far faster than most mortals can comprehend. Even a skilled swordsman is not safe from their talons.”
“I know, I’ve seen them kill, remember?" His polymorphed voice gurgled and bellowed as if he had gravel in his throat, his irritation growing that this know-it-all Priest seemed to have forgotten who he was dealing with. He lunged again for the Priest, his claws coming short of striking him. He felt the scepter slap across the right side of his body instead.
“Yes, but if you don’t move with the same level of speed they do, you’ll be a lot more than bruised by the time they’re through with you. One man might kill one on his own if he’s particularly lucky or skilled, but only a Krsnik kills multiple and lives to tell the tale.”
Peter stood off with the Priest, who grappled his pole to strike again. Time seemed to slow as he moved to strike Peter on his left. He motioned his claws to strike right where he expected the priest to move. His claws made contact with the steel, disarming the priest before he’d get a chance to strike again. He went to pin the priest, but then time sped up to move faster than before. The priest escaped his grasp and fled to his flanking side, out of view.
“A good start, though you’ll need more than fleeting emotion to defeat an entire horde. You have to maintain that focus and speed, even under stress.”
The priest punched him on his side, then sped through with his enhanced speed and struck him on his opposite side. Peter twirled from side to side, trying to orient himself as he looked to finally pin the priest in place. Yet blow after blow kept coming. Peter closed his eyes, trying not to let his annoyance alone consume him. He could then hear the shifting in the sand. He twirled to meet the priest where he could feel he’d jump next, relying on his intuition over his anger.
Though when he opened his eyes, he lost his momentum as a Krsnik, meeting the priest at face level as he struck him with his fist. He staggered from the blow, though in his human form, it was far from a finishing strike. The dizziness followed as he struggled to stand upright and collapsed back onto the sand.
“Your concentration was there, but you can’t rely on emotions alone to maintain your form.”
Peter struggled to keep his head upright, his world spinning while he attempted to orient himself while the sand bristled and irritated his skin. “How do you do it then?”
The priest smiled a little, “you’re far more talented than me in that regard, I was never blessed with that ability. All of us have some of the Krsnik within us, but few can channel it like you can.”
“Then how can you still dodge me while I’m transformed?”
“Faith, faith is very powerful. Though you have far more potential than me, you must master what I have to exceed it.”
Peter groaned, wobbling as he struggled to stay upright on his feet. “I don’t have time; my people need me now.”
The priest sadly nodded, then reached back down to pick up his scepter. “Then we must continue.”
Peter let every bit of desperation consume his being, until he managed to make the transformation again to repeat the process. But time and time again, he found himself struck and outmaneuvered, just short of where he could claim to have bested his challenger…
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