Fell Champions

Rua coughed, her whole body trying to expel smoke and dust from her lungs. It came out of her in a racking, heaving motion, and she was half-afraid she’d lose what little food she’d put in herself before she stopped. 

She’d never been on this side of a grenade before. Her people loved to use them in boarding actions. They tended to cause chaos and confusion in addition to the sheer physical mayhem. She didn’t care for it.

She looked everywhere for Otter or Sunny, but she couldn’t see through the haze. The sun’s glare through the window only made it worse, and her ears rang with a whistling shriek to bewilder her even more.

Otter was fine. She could tell through their link. She breathed a sigh of relief. And then that feeling was shattered as pain transmitted through it, a spike of agony, and Rua could feel more than see something roughly Otter-sized and shaped go hurtling from the room and out the window. 

Her passing cleared some of the smoke in a swirl from the room, revealing Kir. Her armor looked cracked, the strange material the Mikovians used in its construction flaking away at parts. She’d managed to resecure her helmet, although it bore a jagged line across its face plate. 

“We have to get out of here,” Rua said. 

“Where’s Sureya?”

Rua looked around, but couldn’t spot her through all the dust. “Why do you care? Didn’t you come to kill her?”

“No. I don’t care for her, and always wished you’d stand up to her, but I didn’t come here with the intention of hurting her.”

“Fine. We find Sureya, and then we clear the building.”

Kir nodded, but then stopped, her body going still. And then she drew her sword. Rua followed the line of her gaze, difficult to do with that helmet obscuring her face, and saw Sunny standing up. She was hampered by chains, securing her arms and legs. 

“What are you doing?” Rua asked, pointedly looking back at Kir’s sword.

“What needs to be done.”

“Funny, I thought I was the Burden of Shadows. Leave me to my duty, and I’ll leave you to yours.”

“She’s a Fleshcrafter. A Crib Fleshcrafter. Bad enough one, but combined with the other? You should have killed her the moment you met her, and yet you’re travelling with her. What happened to you in the past year?”

“Maybe if you actually talked to me, you’d know.”

Kir’s stance faltered. It was brief. Just a second. And then, through the window, a second explosive fell.

Kir reacted first. She threw herself on top of it.

The explosion was soft and muffled, softer than Rua thought it had any right to be. But the result was astonishing. The entire surface of Kir’s armor rippled with blue-white light, originating from the point of impact like ripples on a pond. The metal itself bent and repaired itself, tearing at seams that it didn’t have that sealed themselves as they went, until finally it was no longer able to hold itself together. The pulses of light quickened, and cracks forming all throughout the metal, and there was a shriek as if the heavens themselves had just been set on fire. 

Kir let out a sound of pain and went still. 

“Get out of here,” Rua hissed to Sunny. 

“Is she..?”

“No. I don’t know about her Pact, but that armor definitely absorbed the blow. I’ll keep her…” She trailed off as Kir stood, broken pieces of metal falling away from her shattered armor. “Go!”

“But–”

“If you don’t leave now, I will be furious with you.”

She kept her gaze on Kir as Sunny fled, hampered to a quick waddle because of her chains. Kir watched her go and sighed, before kicking off what remained of her sabatons. She cast off her gauntlets next, before removing her helm. Underneath she wore a colourful bodysuit of soona silk, dyed in a Silayan fashion, but cut in a utilitarian Mikovian design. 

She moved gingerly, as if sharp movements caused her pain. Her Tenacity had probably broken under the weight of the explosion. It might give Rua a chance. 

How many times had they fought one another as children in the sparring grounds? How many times had they clashed practice blades against one another, practiced hand-to-hand, wrestled in the dirt? How many times had Kir won those exchanges?

Kir was perfect at everything she did. Always the quickest to learn a new lesson with the blade, always performing with absolute preciseness. She’d been the envy of so many, but never for Rua. Rua had never wanted to be Kir, she’d just wanted to be with her.

“I can’t let her go,” Kir said.

Rua drew both her shortswords.

“Is this what we’ve come to, sister?” Kir asked. “I don’t want to fight you.”

There was a small ache at those words, barely noticeable. A small lie. Kir always wanted to fight. Some part of her loved it. Mikovians lusted for battle even more than Silayans. 

“I don’t want to fight you either.”

“Then don’t.”

Rua shrugged. “I know what you’re like. You won’t let it go. You’ll chase Sunny down. I can’t let you do that.”

She very deliberately stepped between Kir and the doorway out of the room. She could hold this spot. She didn’t need to beat Kir. She just needed to delay her. Kir wouldn’t hurt her. Maybe thrash her a bit, but it wouldn’t go beyond that. And every second she took in receiving a beating would give Sunny that much more time to get away.

“What happened to you?” Kir asked.

Rua didn’t know how to answer that, but her heart gave word to the feeling she’d been holding tightly to. “She’s my daughter.”

Confusion flickered across Kir’s face, followed by disbelief. “This is a trick.”

“You know how I feel about lies.”

“Then she’s tricked you somehow. Or… how? She’s a Crib. And you’ve only been gone a year. She’s an adult. She can’t be your daughter.”

“It’s a long story. I’d be willing to tell you.”

“I… I can’t let her get away, Rua. I don’t have to kill her. Just let me pass. I can make sure she doesn’t hurt anyone, ever again, and it won’t even hurt her. Not really.”

Rua would have faltered. Would have let Kir pass. The pain in her voice, the nearly pleading tone to her words… Rua had never been able to deny Kir anything. Part of her wanted to give in, and likely would have… if not for the pain she felt from Kir lying.

The majority of what Kir had said had been true. She really wouldn’t kill Sunny. She could make it so Sunny never hurt anyone. 

But whatever she had planned would absolutely hurt Sunny.

Rua steeled herself and raised her weapons in a low stance.

“I love you, Kir, but I can’t let you near her.”

“You don’t want to fight me.”

“No. I don’t.”

“No. You don’t understand. You can’t fight me. It… it won’t end well for you.”

“I know that, too.”

“No, you don’t…” Kir made a sound of frustration, and then a look of resolve came over her. Her face hardened. She bent down, and picked up her sword, dropped from when her armor had shattered. “I suppose this is the only way I can keep you safe. I was always afraid I’d have to do this.”

“Who knows. Maybe today’s the day I beat you.”

Kir’s shoulders slumped a little at that. “You haven’t fought me since I received my Pact.”

“Your Tenacity’s out. Your armor’s broken. You’re wounded. I’m still fresh. And you haven’t fought me since I got mine.”

“It won’t make a difference,” Kir said. She sounded sad. “Out of everyone in the entire world, you’re the worst matchup for my Pact, I think. I’d show you why, but… once I do, it’s too late for you.”

“Yes, I get it, you should’ve been born pelanoa, your cock is so very impressive.”

“No more delays. Your Fleshcrafter… your daughter has had enough of a head start.”

Kir lunged forward, her sword seeking blood in a precise stab the long blade hadn’t really been crafted for. It was a sloppy maneuver Rua would’ve expected from a poorer swordsman. That sword was better for wide sweeps where its weight and length could best be employed to create distance.

Rua sidestepped and deflected the blade with both of her swords and moved inside of Kir’s reach where her shortswords would be able to end the fight quickly.

She swung hard with her mainhand. Kir made no move to parry or dodge the blow. 

Rua’s sword stopped maybe three inches from Kir’s flesh. It was like all the muscles in Rua’s arm seized up and refused to listen to her. She couldn’t push the blade any closer, and it hovered just in front of Kir, the point trembling from the effort Rua threw at it to try to make it go any further forward.

Kir looked at the sword’s edge and sighed. “I’d hoped you’d be able to push through. But I knew you wouldn’t be able to. I’m afraid you’re not going to enjoy what comes next. I’m sorry.”

It wasn’t the way that Kir said it that frightened Rua. It was the fact that every word was true.

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