by Bethan Johns
The top had embroidered silver patterns causing her eyes to stand out brightly, the front and back were cut into deep V’s. Her hair blew outward behind her in a wind her aura created.
The scars stood out on her body brutally. She met my eyes and began walking. She walked through every hallway, past many Howelltie younglings, their eyes open in awe.
Her face was set - not in anger - but blandly, in near-boredom as she held up her hand and the doorway into one particular classroom blasted away into a pile of embers on the floor.
I smiled at her use of fire magic, she wanted to be death, but she wanted this death to be pure Howelltie. That is why she walked instead of rifted, why she bared her scars so proudly, and why she used flames instead of creation to destroy.
Minax turned with a surprised expression on his face, and at the sight of her, his eyes gleamed.
He pulled out his sword, the classroom full of children gasping and drawing back. Her eyes flitted over them. She bared her teeth at Minax as he ran towards her. She let him get in a few slices of first blood before she simply slammed her hand into his chest causing him to fall to his knees on the floor.
She ran her fingers down his face leaving trailing embers and when she reached his throat, she snapped his neck with one hand. She sheathed her sword, and bringing her other hand to grip his hair, she gripped and pulled, her muscles straining.
Anyone watching could see the struggle as she ripped his head clean from his body and threw it across the classroom floor towards the children, now sitting with wide eyes staring.
She gave them another cursory glance, walked over to me without meeting my eyes, and rifted us from the room.
We arrived in the courtyard of the next school. I groaned, this one I knew as well.
She stalked her way haughtily through the stone corridors and again burnt the door to embers. Balor stood at the podium of a classroom full of elder-younglings, probably ages fifteen to twenty. He was giving a lecture on Fae swiftness during battle.
I watched as the class looked to her, as Balor turned and saw her, his eyes taking in her figure.
Her eyes looked to the board, the notes scrawled across the screen, and laughed aloud. She sped across the room. A blur to step right in front of him.
He was visibly shaken.
“Hello Balor” She purred.
He swallowed. “Sierade. How can I help you? I’m in the middle of a lecture.”
She smiled at him. I hoped I would never be on the receiving end of that smile, she looked like she was about to eat him.
She moved around him, and he turned with her. Moving closer, she ran her finger across his throat. Bringing up his hand to rest on her breast lightly.
He took it away quickly.
“Do you not still find me beautiful Balor?” she asked sweetly. Leaning in, she licked his bottom lip quickly.
He flinched hard and she giggled jumping back from him.
I looked over the students in the hall, they were all silently watching.
Waiting.
Everyone knew what was coming. You could feel the menace coming from her in waves.
Revenge was a part of Howelltie life, if you wronged someone, there would always be a chance they would come back for you. Life among the Howelltie was a lot of calculated risk. It was obvious to everyone that Balor had taken on more than he could risk.
“You found me irresistible once, you and Cinder.” She said lightly. She bunched up her dress in her hand and pulled it tightly up to flash her crimson underwear.
I smirked that she had added the detail.
“It is a rite of passage for all Howelltie females.” He stammered.
She turned on him quick as a viper. “When they are older, not when they are thirteen. It is supposed to be by a peer, which is why Cinder will go unpunished…”
I smirked to myself. That she knew of. Cinder had been punished plenty many years ago.
“…not by two Howelltie males at once and certainly not by their instructors who they then have to be taught by for the next fifteen years.”
There were a few gasps in the classroom.
Her face transformed back from anger to boredom eerily quickly.
She stalked towards him and grabbed him by the crotch. She stroked him gently a few times and leaned in to pull his lower lip between hers.
He reached behind himself grabbing a knife and twisted it into her gut. Her eyes narrowed in amusement as she ripped his manhood clean from his body. He fell to the floor in a heap, bleeding out. His shrieks were ear-piercing.
I watched as she pulled the blade from her sternum and dropped it on the floor, her face blank, neigh on peaceful.
She snapped her fingers and set Balor aflame, she watched as he screamed anew and when he stopped, she stood silently a few moments longer. Dropping his member to the floor she turned to me, this time she did meet my eyes.
I coveted that look of fire behind them. I saw her rage, I wanted to reach out to her, to let it wrap itself around me. I smiled and dragged her into my arms, she kissed me. Balor’s blood still on her lips, and we rifted again.
✽✽✽
Sierade
We rifted into the base camp of one of the lower physical tiers.
The camp was a cacophony of noise, mercenaries yelling back and forth, and cooking meals on open spits outside tent entrances. The tents ran on and on for a vast distance and were set in a grid pattern along the hard-packed earth roads that created the web of the camp. Nearly every Howelltie camp would be set up this way.
I looked up at the sky, it was blue and clear save for some dark-looking clouds trying to roll over the mountains in the distance. They would likely make it here by nightfall.
I snapped my fingers after I looked down at myself.
I was now in leather boots, and leather armour pants in smooth black, on the top half of my body I wore a sleeveless, tight leather top that stopped just below my breasts. I knew that in a Howelltie army camp as a Fae warrior I would need to bare my scars.
I felt thankful that they stood out so starkly on my tanned skin. I left the blood from my encounters with Minax and Balor on my skin. I was floating blissfully in my blood rage.
Looking up into Sylek’s eyes, I saw that he was enjoying it as well.
“I want to start owning this battlefield.” I said, pointing across the sea of tents to where I could hear the yells of battle going on in the main pits.
His eyes were only for me.
“Would you like me to bring you to your psychic camp now?” I asked carefully
He shook his head. “I want to watch you bathe in blood.” His expression was bland, but I saw fire in his eyes. That was the Sylek I knew.
I used to tease him, saying he had less fire, passion, and blood rage than other Howelltie. I knew it wasn’t true. I knew that if anything he probably had more. Sylek had spent his entire life making small and large sacrifices for me.
The calm exterior he would always bear was one of those sacrifices. It started as a type of shield for me and turned into a large part of who he was.
“For you, my love, I shall swim in it” I responded and started walking through the camp.
The pits were at the centre of every physical mercenary camp. They were simply sparring circles dragged into the dirt that had been worn down by many feet over time to create rounded bowls in the hard-compacted earth.
There were many of them, about twenty, and there were battles going on in each.
I noted the warriors fighting in each. “Definitely low-level” I muttered to Sylek. He nodded silently in agreement. The fighting here seemed unrefined. I did not see a single warrior at my skill level.
This is where you needed to start though. From the bottom and kill your way to the top. The fastest way was to find the leader of every camp and army and beat them.
Sometimes when you got to the higher-ranking camps they required you to fight more than one, sometimes they made you fight the second in command
or some high-ranking officers.
My plan was to avoid that and walk into every camp and challenge the leader directly. I was hoping that my status as a female Fae would get me noticed more quickly, that some of those army commanders would want to see my rise ended quickly so they would step forward themselves. If that was not enough, I would start to shed some blood.
I walked over to a large male who looked like he was overseeing today’s matches.
I stood beside him. He was a big male; I came up to about his elbow.
I raised my eyebrows at Sylek who had stayed across the field. He shrugged and moved on to watch some of the other fights.
I stood there until the brute noticed me.
“Hello tiny one” he said good-naturedly.
“Hello large one.” I responded.
He laughed lightly, and I felt his eyes inspecting my scars. Marking me for what I was.
I looked up and locked eyes with him.
“Who is top at this camp?”
His eyes widened slightly as he reassessed me.
“I am.”
I nodded.
“What is your name?”
“Avon.” He responded gruffly. “Yours?”
“Si” I said.
“Are you looking for a fight or a fuck Si?” he asked plainly.
I let my eyes roam over him, he was a beautiful male, hard, through and through a warrior.
I sighed. “A fight.”
He had seen the look and he smiled.
“Then a fight you shall have, normal Fae VS. Merc. rules apply.”
I nodded. “No magic, no rift” I snapped my fingers and the blade he held changed from silver to ash. “Ash weaponry.” I finished.
His smiled broadened.
“Too bad, you’re fiery, I would have chosen the fuck.”
I pulled out my sword as we moved to a circle. “In another life Avon, so would I.”
I saw Sylek sidle closer to watch us. Many other Howelltie gathered around to watch.
Watching Avon settle into his stance confirmed what I already had thought. He was going to be slow, fast for one so big, but still, so very slow.
I lowered down to my haunches ready to launch myself. He probably wouldn’t even get one decent hit on me.
Blocking out the sounds of the camp mercenaries banging things together - excited for their head honcho to wipe the floor clean with the small Fae female - I listened only for the sharp cry telling us to begin.
It sounded to my left and I immediately threw myself to the earth sliding toward him across the dusty terrain. I twisted my legs around his ankles, spinning my body to take him to the ground. The bigger they are the harder they fall.
He hit the ground. Hard.
I moved quickly to gain my hold on top of him and he sent his blade up spinning towards me winning a very narrow scrape on my back as I spun by.
He had regained his knees when I jumped on his back, I bared both my feet on his right arm, locking my muscles, and I felt his arm break under the pressure. I heard the bones snap and watched his blade fall to the ground.
He let out a bellow and leaned forward to reach for it with his other hand, I gripped his hair, and pulling his head back by, his neck now taut, I slid my blade tightly against his throat.
My chest rose and lowered heavily against his back as I waited.
I was breathing onto the side of his neck, and I was standing with a booted foot on each of his calves. I looked to Sylek. He smiled a very slight, quiet smile at me. So, I gripped the other end of the blade letting it slice into my palm as I pulled it horizontally towards me cutting his head from his shoulders. I was soaked now in his blood as it toppled to the ground.
The crowd cheered, but I had eyes only for Sylek, and he only for me as he pushed through into the circle, lifted me in his arms and carried me to the nearest tent growling at the Howelltie inside to leave so he could take me right there.
Bathed in blood for him.
It was filthy, bloody, and magnificent.
Tundra whispered to me that she liked him.
God to my Goddess.
Chapter 5 – First Impressions
Year 10,251 AC
Sierade
I walked across the dusty ground. I was at the highest ranking Howelltie mercenary camp making my way towards a battle with the leader of the largest Howelltie mercenary army – The Rustlavayne.
I rolled my shoulders to relax them. The last fifty years had not been easy.
At first, they had been. I spilled the blood of those standing in my way quickly and mercilessly. My plan had worked well, at almost every camp I initially walked into I found that by the time I walked up to the leader and challenged them, word had already reached them of a small female Fae coming into their camp.
At one of the earlier camps the leader claimed to be too busy and that if I should like to challenge him I would have to go through their first four officers, the strongest four officers in the camp.
I did. I challenged all four at once and demolished them.
After that I began to gain a reputation and I had no trouble meeting with the leaders of the camps almost immediately upon entry.
Eventually the battles became harder, eventually I convinced Sylek that he should return to work his way up the ranks in the psychic camps.
He had made it. He was the top of the psychics in all the Howelltie. The thought made me beam with pride as I walked. I knew he would be here today.
To see the outcome of this last fight.
After I told Sylek to go reach his goal it had become less fun to spill the blood. I wanted the blood, but sometimes I had come to like the person I was fighting against.
Howelltie battles through the mercenary rankings were to the death until you got to the higher ranks. Sometimes then, you would let one live if they called for mercy, not wanting to throw away the life of a talented soldier.
I hadn’t let any go. I knew I couldn’t. Not as a Fae. I knew that even if I won today I would have to work hard for an entire army of mercenaries to follow me, for them to trust me. Especially the Rustlavayne warriors.
There were stirrings of war on the wind. I wanted to own that army when that happened. I wanted it to belong to me, for me to choose where I would make my stand when the time came for war.
I had braided my hair close to my head today. I was wearing my full armour, though my feet were bare. I would take what protection I could from the ash blades my opponent wielded.
I had to walk past the thousands of Howelltie that were the members of the army I sought now to command. They watched me with narrowed eyes. Took in my stature, my bare feet and silver eyes, my delicate features. I had let my body and my muscles fill in again after the time I spent with Tundra. I did not look so gaunt now.
I took the final few steps toward the large pit that was to act as our sparring ring.
Looking around I locked eyes with Sylek for a moment. I winked at him before stepping down into the pit. It was only about a foot lower than the rest of the hardened earth.
I caught eyes with my opponent. Autumn of Glock. Tall, lithe, she was tattooed and pierced in many places.
She had left her mercury silver hair down to blow in the breeze and much of her skin was showing.
On her feet she wore thick soled, leather boots. She took in my appearance and we both laughed quietly at the marked difference between us.
I inclined my head to her, and she to me. It would be a shame to kill this one, I liked a very strong female. I knew Sylek did too.
I looked up and caught eyes with him again. He could tell what I was thinking, and he shook his head at me. I had to kill her. I knew I did.
I watched her prepare herself, she was smaller than a lot of opponents. I knew she would be fast. I also knew I would be faster.
She had a hunting dagger in each hand and a third at her waist.
I had chosen to strap on heavy gauntlets streaked across the knuckles and the back of my hands with vic
ious looking razor blades to my fists. My secondary weapon was a whip tied at my waist.
Flexing my hands, I watched as Autumn’s eyes travelled down to those custom-made fist sheaths.
I watched as she shifted her weight slightly forward and onto the balls of her feet. I shifted mine back and onto my heels. When the voice screeched for us to start she blasted toward me and I spun quickly out the way. Her knives skimming the backs of my arms as I went.
