Fell Champions

By the time Otter finished her plan, which she went unnecessarily into great detail about, Rua’s ears were burning. Probably her cheeks, too. All of her felt heated, and she positively squirmed on the bench she sat on.

She wasn’t used to this feeling, the idea she could just… pursue what she wanted. Go after her desires, consequences be sunk. Always before, she’d given way to the needs and wants of others, let herself be… bullied into the plans and plots of others.

What an odd feeling. She’d always thought that had made her strong before. That by putting others ahead of herself at all times, she was better for it. That way of thinking felt hollow now.

Maybe she really was weak, but not that she’d finally had a taste of taking something for herself, she didn’t want to give up that freedom.

Maybe she could help spread that feeling around.

“You’re at Liaru’s, I see,” she said.

“I am. Was hanging out with Kaya. While her face was all nekkid. The slut.” Otter’s tone was joking, but there was something about her stance. Like she was getting ready for a fight.

Well, Rua had no inclination of spoiling their half-reunion over something so small. Even if Otter was being naive. 

“Well, give them my best, and apologize for my absence. Tell Liaru it wasn’t my intention to leave her running the household alone again so quickly. And that…” she sucked in a deep breath and braced herself. Somehow, the words were harder to say than she’d expected. “... if you’re willing, I give her leave to circumvent the Lists.”

“What are these ‘Lists’ people keep mentioning?”

“Liaru can explain it better than me. And you’ll prefer her explanation, trust me.”

“If you just signed me up to participate in bureaucracy, I will be very cross with you. I might just let Kir keep you until Sami figures out a way to save you on her own.”

“I’m sure I’d prefer whatever rescue plan she comes up with more.”

Otter snorted. “Sami’s plans are safe. Boring. Completely lacking in arson most of the time. Will they work? I mean, I guess, but where’s the fun in that? My plans are the stuff that gets the views and clicks.”

“And… we want clicks?”

“It’s how you get confetti on your ViewToob channel. I would gut a hobo for confetti.”

“And you’re making less sense than usual. I’m going to call Sami now. See if I can get her started on a workable plan. That doesn’t involve arson.”

“But my confetti!”

“I’m ending the call now.”

“Wait.” Otter visibly steered herself, squaring her shoulders before meeting Rua’s eyes. “There’s something I need to say to you. I know it’s quick, but… I–”

“I’ll miss you, too,” Rua said, cutting her off and then disconnected.

As soon as she did, she buried her face in her hands. Stupid. Stupid! Why had she done that?

She’d panicked. And not just because she didn’t want those words to be said to her for the first time through a magic window while she was being held prisoner. She wasn’t ready to hear them at all.

What had she really given Otter in their brief time together? Sure, the sex was great, but had she offered Otter anything other than a bunch of headaches?

First she’d been captured by Ashborne. Then she’d led Otter into the veritable lisuna lair that was Silyana politics. And now she was in need of rescue again. It was pathetic.

Otter had been the emotionally supportive one. All Rua did was bully and dump her problems on Otter. She needed to return the favour somehow. But first, she needed to get herself free.

Rua looked about to make sure she was still clear. This Mikovian outpost was small, with walls made from logs no thicker than her wrist. It was meant to hold maybe a dozen soldiers, and she and Kir were only passing through on their way to Pruana Isle. 

Three men, burly bearded fellows, all practiced on a field of dirt not too far away. They struck at one another in wild, savage movements with wooden swords. There was no care for defense, only aggression. Whenever a hit was scored, it just spurred the other men on even harder.

Mikovians drew strength from their pain. It excited them, drove them to further heights. Many became one of their infamous berserkers, warriors who revelled in their own injuries while inflicting worse upon their foes. 

When fighting a Mikovian, you were always best off going for the kill with every strike. Wounding them only drove them to greater feats of strength and speed. It was always better to feint into one of their obvious openings before redirecting for their throats. 

But even if Rua could fight against any of these – another of Kir’s prohibitions, to harm no Mikovian save under the defense of her own life or Kir’s – she wouldn’t. One Mikovian berserker was tough. Two would end with her death. Three, and there’d be nothing recognizable left of her. 

Kir was currently inside the command post, a three-story building not properly built for a Silayan storm. It’d get flooded for sure, with its ground level on the actual ground. 

Idiot foreigners. Even Kir had made a similar remark on seeing it. Building a proper stilt house wasn’t even a great feat of engineering. You could just look at the homes of any Silayans and just copy what they’d performed. There were examples all over the Islands.

Satisfied no one was paying attention to her, Rua opened her menu and went through her… contacts? Yes, that was the word Otter had used then explaining it to her. She went through her contacts, the so-called ‘online list.’

Nearly twenty names on it were now greyed out. Holt would have a bloodbath in his arena soon. He was likely waiting for the last of the people coming down with sickness to either get better or die. Then he’d have to do one big arena event, all at once. 

Rua found Sami’s name, tapped on it to start a call, and then yelped as a hand landed on her shoulder.

“What are you doing?” Kir asked from behind. 

“Uh…” Her fingers were hanging suspected in the air, touching panels Kir wouldn’t be able to see. How had she snuck up on Rua? She quickly disconnected the call before it went through. “Composing music in my head?”

“You’ll have to sing it for me later,” Kir said with a smile, sitting next to her on the bench. 

Rua wished she wouldn’t be so close. Kir’s very presence tended to make her squirm a little. Even before she’d started investing soul power into her Allure, Kir had been distractingly attractive, and annoyingly perfect. Now it was nearly intolerable, but in a good way. 

“Is that an order?” It came out a little more bitter than Rua had wanted.

“No,” Kir said, unphased. “If you want to sing it for me, you can. If you don’t, that’s fine, too. I don’t want to force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“Great. Then can I go home?”

“One day. Just… not today.”

“Then when?”

Kir stared up at the sky and shrugged. “Probably when someone finally kills me.”

Those words rang true for Rua.

“What do you mean?”

Kir continued to look up at the sky. “Remember back when we used to stare up at the clouds, and try to imagine what they looked like?”

A borderline heretical thing to do. It wouldn’t create a Mythwalker, but it could lead to it. It wasn’t forbidden, but any parent catching their child doing it would be sure to punish them. Just like Old Grey had.

“Yes.”

“I think that one looks like a shield,” Kir said, pointing. “Virturian design.”

Rua sucked in a breath. If anyone shouldn’t be doing this kind of activity, it would be Kir least of all.

“You’re Burden of Dreams, what are you doing?” Rua hissed.

“I’m tired,” Kir said. “Tired of duty. Tired of always being a paragon. Maybe I just want to sit with my sister and play a game, just for once, without having to worry about duty.”

A half-dozen angry retorts came to Rua’s lips, but none found their way past.

“It’s not a shield,” Rua said. “It’s clearly a fish.”

“You’re only saying that because you’re Silayan. Everything is either a fish, a crab, or an axe to you.”

“That’s not true. We also appreciate spears.”

Kir glanced over at her, a smile pulling at her perfect lips. “I bet you’ve been appreciating spears lately.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about your pelanoa’s cock. The innuendo wasn’t exactly subtle.”

“That’s… I…”

“Wait. Are you embarrassed? No. It can’t be. I’ve never heard of a Silayan getting flustered talking about sex. Is little Rua flustered because I made a crude joke about her pelanoa’s cock?” 

“Little?” Rua growled, and then threw herself at Kir.

She tackled her sister off the bench, and they both hit the ground in a roll. They descend into a small wrestling bout in the dirt, trying every which way to pin the other. Rua was stronger, but Kir had more mass and greater reach, and she was all kinds of flexible in a way that made Rua’s attempts all the more heated. But Rua couldn’t actually harm her if she tried. 

Kir didn’t exploit that, didn’t try to hurt Rua, or try for any grabs or holds that would bring pain. It was just the two of them in a friendly bout, like so many they’d done when they were younger. But this time, there was a difference.

Rua won this time.

Kir laid face-first on the ground, laughing as Rua sat on top of her, pinning both arms behind her back.

“I win,” Rua said triumphantly. “Wait, does this mean I’m free? I beat you.”

“No. This was just play, and my Pact knows it. Doesn’t count. Has to be a serious fight.”

“Your Pact is dumb and unfair. Just like you.”

“I’m the dumb one? I’ve seen how Silayans get when they’re with a pelanoa. I bet yours had fucked the brains right out of you a few times by now.”

“You keep bringing up my pelanoa. You’re starting to sound curious.”

“I’m… I’m not curious. I just want to know if you’re being, you know… taken care of.”

Rua leaned down and whispered into Kir’s ear, “I’m being taken very regularly, thank you very much.”

Or would be, if you hadn’t kidnapped me, she thought. But kept that anger to herself. 

Someone cleared their throat, and Rua saw one of those burly Mikovians standing over them both, his practice sword resting lazily on his shoulder.

“It’s fine, Boyen,” Kir said. “Just a friendly bout. Nothing to get excited over.”

“Yeah,” Rua agreed. “We haven’t even gotten to the fun part yet.”

And then Rua leaned back, and with one hand, smacked Kir across the ass. Seated as she was, she couldn’t get a good view of it, but what she’d felt was nice. Better than nice. Perfect, just like the rest of Kir. But there was nothing annoying about this part of her.

Kir went rigid, her whole body freezing up, as if she didn’t know how to react. Which was probably true. Kir was practically a princess to the majority of the Mikovians in the Islands, and their superior officer, to boot. Any she’d brought to bed with her – and Rua knew there were a few indiscretions – would never dare try something like that to her. 

Before Kir could fully process what had just happened, Rua got off her and held out a hand to help her up. Kir stared at it warily before accepting. 

“Leave us,” Kir said to Boyen. 

The big brute shrugged as if nothing was amiss, and went back to his two fellows to continue hitting each other with big pieces of wood. 

As soon as he was out of earshot, Kir grabbed Rua by the shoulder and dragged her around the back of the command post and out of sight. 

“What was that?” Kir said in a strangled whisper.

Rua shrugged innocently. “Loser gets a penalty. Isn’t that how we always used to play? Remember that concoction you made me drink that one time? Or when you made me sneak into Juala’s home and put bugs in her drawers?”

“So you spanked me?” Kir said incredulously. 

“Just once. Why?” Rua placed one hand on Kir’s shoulder, the other on her hip, and then shoved her against the wall of the command post. She stood on her tip toes, barely reaching Kir’s jawline. “Would you rather I kissed you instead?”

Kir stared at her, her mouth trying to form words, but only unintelligible sounds came out. Rua knew what she wanted to say, the same refrain she’d endlessly repeated for years. ‘Mikovians weren’t like that. Mikovians weren’t Silayans.’ 

Rua grabbed her by the collar of her shirt and pulled her closer, close enough that their lips were almost touching. 

Kir’s eyes went wide. Wide and afraid, unsure. It was the only thing that stopped Rua from going further. 

When they did kiss, Rua wanted Kir to be absolutely sure.

“Tell me when you want another wrestling match,” Rua said. “I’m always available for you.”

Rua let Kir go, trying not to stare at how delicious Kir’s lips looked, how her breasts heaved as she took in one shuddering breath after another, how her beautiful pale skin came to life with a flush. 

Rua turned and walked away, a small smile playing on her lips. Maybe Otter wasn’t that terrible at planning things. And this had just been phase one.

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