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Aeon (updated 10/9/14)
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<blockquote data-quote="Sepulchrave II" data-source="post: 5765474" data-attributes="member: 4303"><p><strong>Obsession – Part 4</strong></p><p></p><p></p><p>Turel and Rumyal – two infernal seraphim – and Irel, Who Smites, passed swiftly through the skies above the frozen River Nund; three flights of dark exemplars accompanied them. Warded and augmented by Shomei, all were inscrutable to any but the most probing eyes. They flew east, and skirted the compass of the Blackthorn near Droming. Irel gyred and broke away. The mighty deva cast his gaze – unrivalled amongst celestial princes, fallen or otherwise – toward Deorham and Kyrtill’s Burh, one of Wyre’s holiest sites: the birthplace and earthly dwelling of the <em>Ahma</em>. It was impenetrable; his sight could not pierce the shroud which Soneillon had set about the place.</p><p></p><p>Twelve miles distant, the demoness herself stood upon the Steeple beneath the shadow of Carasch – a smoldering void which had yet to erupt to blistering rage – and stretched lazily. The great chthonic had seen them . Was Shomei baiting her, or testing the limit of her perception? Or was this a simple reconnaissance? Soneillon considered: to act would be to disclose; to ignore, to dissemble. </p><p></p><p>She chose to act.</p><p></p><p>Carasch turned his thought on them, casually smashing their protections.</p><p></p><p>Soneillon materialized within the main flight and spoke a soundless syllable, unleashing oblivion. Turel and Rumyal, Great Antagonists who had previously offered counsel to the Adversary himself, were instantly extinguished along with eighteen devas.</p><p></p><p>She disappeared. </p><p></p><p>Irel alone remained. </p><p></p><p>Soneillon reappeared, and her speed was blinding. Tendrils of void lashed the fallen prince, stripping away <em>ens</em> like vapor, and flinging his mace from his hands. She hissed, and drove him into the ground in a tempest, claws sinking through his throat and chest and pinning him. Ichor steamed as it poured from his massive frame, staining the snow black; his strength ebbed from him.</p><p></p><p>She paused, and smiled.</p><p></p><p>“My, but you <em>are</em> the pretty one,” Her eyes widened and her wings curled. “And you are unbound; without compact: I believe she <em>likes</em> you – how delicious! It is so tempting to <em>steal</em> you. Alas! My heart belongs to another. But now I am feeling tender; she may keep you. Invoke your mistress by name.”</p><p></p><p>The deva was silent.</p><p></p><p>She raised an eyebrow. “Presently, I am keeping you from dying, Irel, and it would be sad to lose one as beautiful as you. Do you trust that your spirit will fly to the winds; or will it go to the Tree-Bitch for <em>reallocation</em> – perhaps, as a wood-gnome or troll? Heaven is lost to you, and there is no time to show you the Void. She may save you – if she cares for you. Speak.”</p><p></p><p>“Shomei,” he choked. Ichor welled in his mouth.</p><p></p><p>She brought her face close, and her grip relaxed. She moved over him.</p><p></p><p>“Good…” She breathed softly in his ear. She lifted her head and smiled at Shomei, whose infernal perception had been drawn there.</p><p></p><p>Soneillon gently withdrew her talons, and vanished.</p><p></p><p></p><p>**</p><p></p><p></p><p>Shomei tapped her fingers. She picked up a bottle of <em>kschiff</em> and hurled it against a bookcase. Hellfire crawled over her.</p><p></p><p>Mostin smiled unsympathetically. “You’re in way over your head; she has fifteen billion years on you, and she <em>enjoys</em> this. Perhaps you are beginning to appreciate the magnitude of this task?”</p><p></p><p>“How did she see them?”</p><p></p><p>“I could not say,” Mostin replied. “Probably a transvalent. She may have allies.”</p><p></p><p>“I spent a third of my reservoir repairing Irel’s wounds. They just <em>wouldn’t heal</em>. His cohesion was…wrong.”</p><p></p><p>“You are fortunate she simply obliterated the others,” Mostin observed drily.</p><p></p><p>“If you were to send your <em>Ú</em>s…”</p><p></p><p>Mostin became irritable. “Shomei, you may be exempt from the Injunction – and I say <em>may be</em>, because much has yet to be tested – but one thing is certain: <em>I am not</em>. You asked me here for advice, and I will give it to you: <em>let this go</em>. You are simply unprepared for this endeavor; if you do actually attack her and she survives and escapes do you really think that she will calmly forgive? Do you think Eadric – I’m sorry, the <em>Ahma</em> – will? Now, I am going to offer you some <em>perspective</em> again, because it is apparent to me that at this point that she has acted with the utmost restraint with regard to you…”</p><p></p><p>“I don’t need this, Mostin...”</p><p></p><p>“…<em>by not already annihilating you.</em> And if you don’t think she could have accomplished this, had she set her mind to it, then you are <em>stupid</em>. Perhaps Eadric has restrained her; perhaps her perspective is other than we can guess. And she let you keep your favorite toy; although what you see in those hideous, feathery monsters is beyond me.”</p><p></p><p>Shomei glared at him. “She drew first blood, Mostin, not I.”</p><p></p><p>“And I think she might cite provocation as a reasonable defense; frankly, I would be inclined to agree with her. You are the lawyer; what do you think? Perhaps we should ask Gihaahia to mediate – although Soneillon’s <em>exemption</em> with regard to the Injunction is not in question. Do not give her a <em>casus belli.</em>”</p><p></p><p>“I cannot slow now, Mostin.”</p><p></p><p>“You must!” He was exasperated.</p><p></p><p>“No; I cannot. <em>It is what I am.</em>”</p><p></p><p>“Then you should repair to your library,” he said grimly. “Or stay safely within the compass of the Hazel, because if you begin this and then step beyond its bounds – and are not prepared to finish what you’ve started – then she will find you and extinguish you. You will make a prison for yourself, Shomei; and that is <em>symmetry</em>.”</p><p></p><p>“Will you aid me?”</p><p></p><p>“I am disinclined,” he replied.</p><p></p><p>“If you were to speak to the <em>Ahma</em>; find out what transpired at Deorham. He has returned to Galda…”</p><p></p><p>“I will not <em>spy</em> for you Shomei. If you have questions for Eadric, ask them yourself.”</p><p></p><p>“Mostin. Please. Then use the <em>Web of Motes</em>. At least let me know what I’m dealing with that I haven’t foreseen.”</p><p></p><p>He stood and sighed. “I will contact you in one hour. Do not ask me for anything else. Here.”</p><p></p><p>He took off his hat – his favorite ochre felt, with its wide brim somewhat charred – and placed it on her head.</p><p></p><p>*</p><p></p><p>Exactly one hour later, Shomei received a <em>sending</em> which contained only one word: <em>Carasch</em>.</p><p></p><p>She sat and tapped her fingers. Time elapsed.</p><p></p><p>She translated to Galda for the final time.</p><p></p><p></p><p>**</p><p></p><p></p><p>“I see you bear your rod,” Eadric said dubiously. “Are you here to coerce me this time?”</p><p></p><p>“It is a preventative measure,” Shomei explained. “May I sit?”</p><p></p><p>He gestured toward a chair. “I am not about to assail you, Shomei. I’m glad you came. I have been considering how to approach you.”</p><p></p><p>“<em>Ahma</em>, I lost twenty of my best devils earlier today in an unprovoked attack by your lover.”</p><p></p><p>“Unprovoked?” He asked sceptically. “Would you like <em>kasshiv</em>? It’s all I have left – Nwm and Ortwine drank everything else.”</p><p></p><p>“Yes.” She raised an eyebrow at his pronunciation. “My servants were reconnoitering over Trempa; they were beyond the compass of the Blackthorn.”</p><p></p><p>“I did not realize a formal exclusion zone had been established,” he said drily, pouring a goblet for her. “Shomei, I have been pondering how to deal with this <em>situation</em> and I’m at a loss. I cannot seem to appeal to you; I cannot risk <em>forbidding</em> you for fear of provoking the <em>Antinomos</em> in you to an immediate response: I do not wish to come to blows with you. But you are flouting every law conceivable: Wyrish, magickal, ethical and religious. What would you have me do?”</p><p></p><p>“Enkindle your potential, <em>Ahma</em>. But you do not seem interested in assuming this responsibility.”</p><p></p><p>“That is a larger question which we may return to,” Eadric sighed. “In the meantime I must consider the wellbeing of those whom I am charged to protect; I am Earl Marshal of Wyre, Shomei: I must defend it, regardless.”</p><p></p><p>“You know that Carasch is aiding her, of course?”</p><p></p><p>“He is her watchdog. I have encountered him. He is terrifying. It is not germane to this discussion.”</p><p></p><p>“I lost two seraphs in her ambush, <em>Ahma</em>.”</p><p></p><p>“They ceased being seraphim at the beginning of the <em>last</em> Aeon, Shomei.”</p><p></p><p>“Yet the <em>Ahma</em> would place himself as a shield before this chthonic abomination?” She asked.</p><p></p><p>“No,” he groaned. “But he would place himself as a shield before the inhabitants of Trempa. There are limits on the number of devils which even you can conjure and compel, Shomei. If you send them in waves, will she be able to kill them quicker than you can call more? Or perhaps you will muster a large force, and she will entrench further: and the longer the buildup, the worse for everyone.”</p><p></p><p>Shomei looked hard at him. “Not all devils need to be compelled, <em>Ahma</em>. Only a key few – and then, only persuaded. I could end this all very quickly.”</p><p></p><p>His eyes flickered nervously. “I do not follow.”</p><p></p><p>“Azazel still bears the standard; two hundred legions accompany him. There is no longer a Celestial Interdict.”</p><p></p><p>A look of horror crossed his face. “You would do this? Raise <em>that</em> banner over Wyre?”</p><p></p><p>“I would prefer not to, but I must have the <em>Urn</em>, <em>Ahma</em>.”</p><p></p><p>“By invoking the eschaton? And you dub Soneillon psychotic?”</p><p></p><p>“She is,” Shomei smiled thinly. “I am merely determined. And the eschaton has been and gone, <em>Ahma</em>. We are what’s left.”</p><p></p><p>“And if I were to demand of you – <em>command</em> you – how would you respond?”</p><p></p><p>Shomei shook her head. “Please do not force me to make that choice, <em>Ahma</em>. It would not sit well with me.”</p><p></p><p>“Indeed? For one who asserts the <em>Ahma</em> as central to their paradigm I am sure it would cause you some discomfort.”</p><p></p><p>“I simply wish you would embrace the larger reality.”</p><p></p><p>“Then perhaps we should force the issue.” He stood grimly and drew <em>Lukarn</em>, gripping it below the quillons and presenting it in censure. It illuminated the interior of the tent. “By the authority…”</p><p></p><p>“Please, <em>Ahma</em>...”</p><p></p><p>“…vested in me as <em>Ahma</em>; the Breath of God manifest in the world…”</p><p></p><p>“<em>Ahma</em>…”</p><p></p><p>“…I hereby command…”</p><p></p><p>“Eadric. Do not…”</p><p></p><p>“…that <em>Shomei</em>…”</p><p></p><p>Her Flame ignited. She brought the full force of her will to bear through her rod; it was colossal, and should have overpowered him. Instead, there was a resonance, and a reflection, which Shomei experienced as a great gale blasting over her. His pavillion and its contents were gone, blown to the four winds. Both Shomei’s eyes and those of the <em>Ahma</em> became wide in astonishment; a cluster of lotuses in the garland which he wore on his wrist had turned to dust: Soneillon had warded him, and he hadn’t even known it.</p><p></p><p>Devas and archons appeared all around him, summoned by his thought, but her presence paralyzed them; they would not strike her, only worship her. He <em>smote</em> her repeatedly, but her exemption protected her. Her will recommenced, unleashing a cyclone of hellfire focused on herself which could not touch him, but which slowly burned the garland to ash. </p><p></p><p>He spoke a <em>holy word</em>; again, exemption sustained her.</p><p></p><p>The firestorm increased in intensity; still the lotuses burned away. The devas were incinerated.</p><p></p><p>Nwm – alerted and now present – struck her with a sonic of tremendous power, which echoed for miles. She weathered it, and her focus did not falter; she hurled the Preceptor aside with <em>telekinesis</em>.</p><p></p><p>The last blossom turned to soot. Finally, she gripped Eadric’s mind, and <em>dominated</em> him. </p><p></p><p>“I’m sorry, <em>Ahma</em>. It’s a preventative measure.” She wept.</p><p></p><p>Abruptly, both Shomei the Infernal and the <em>Ahma</em> vanished.</p><p></p><p></p><p>**</p><p>**</p><p></p><p></p><p>The goddess strode ahead impatiently.</p><p></p><p>Teppu followed, anxiously. “What should I call you?”</p><p></p><p>“It does not matter – call me what you wish.” Her manner was disconcertingly brusque.</p><p></p><p>“You were Nehael before,” he suggested.</p><p></p><p>“Then call me Nehael.”</p><p></p><p>“But you are no longer the same.”</p><p></p><p>“Then call me something different,” she sighed.</p><p></p><p>“May I choose a name?” He suggested.</p><p></p><p>“Why not?”</p><p></p><p>“Names are important.” He explained.</p><p></p><p>“Are they?” She asked.</p><p></p><p>“Yes! Stop!”</p><p></p><p>She stopped, and smiled at him. “Do you have one for me?”</p><p></p><p>“You are not so different,” Teppu laughed. “Where are you going?”</p><p></p><p>“This way,” she said.</p><p></p><p>“What is this way?”</p><p></p><p>“What I need.”</p><p></p><p>“What…”</p><p></p><p>”Good,” she said. A horse stood waiting; a varnish roan mare. Strapped to the saddle was an arming sword. A bow – with flowers tied around its limbs – was fixed around its cantle, and a quiver of red-fletched arrows hung from its skirt.</p><p></p><p>Teppu raised an eyebrow. “That bow is…”</p><p></p><p>“Yew.”</p><p></p><p>“And the arrows…”</p><p></p><p>“<em>Hazel.</em>”</p><p></p><p>“And the sword…”</p><p></p><p>She drew it, and it rang; runes were etched into its blade: <em>Trúa</em>.</p><p></p><p>“Compassion?” He asked.</p><p></p><p>She shook her head. “<em>Pity</em>, Teppu. One cannot slay with compassion.” </p><p></p><p>“Where are you going now?” He asked.</p><p></p><p>“South,” she smiled.</p><p></p><p>“Why…”</p><p></p><p>“The <em>dead</em> are there Teppu. Are you coming?”</p><p></p><p>“Certainly,” he replied uncertainly.</p><p></p><p>She climbed into the saddle, picked him up, and deposited him behind her.</p><p></p><p>Moments later, they were at Cirone. Ahead, the <em>Pall of Dhatri</em> loomed.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>**</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Sepulchrave II, post: 5765474, member: 4303"] [B]Obsession – Part 4[/B] Turel and Rumyal – two infernal seraphim – and Irel, Who Smites, passed swiftly through the skies above the frozen River Nund; three flights of dark exemplars accompanied them. Warded and augmented by Shomei, all were inscrutable to any but the most probing eyes. They flew east, and skirted the compass of the Blackthorn near Droming. Irel gyred and broke away. The mighty deva cast his gaze – unrivalled amongst celestial princes, fallen or otherwise – toward Deorham and Kyrtill’s Burh, one of Wyre’s holiest sites: the birthplace and earthly dwelling of the [I]Ahma[/I]. It was impenetrable; his sight could not pierce the shroud which Soneillon had set about the place. Twelve miles distant, the demoness herself stood upon the Steeple beneath the shadow of Carasch – a smoldering void which had yet to erupt to blistering rage – and stretched lazily. The great chthonic had seen them . Was Shomei baiting her, or testing the limit of her perception? Or was this a simple reconnaissance? Soneillon considered: to act would be to disclose; to ignore, to dissemble. She chose to act. Carasch turned his thought on them, casually smashing their protections. Soneillon materialized within the main flight and spoke a soundless syllable, unleashing oblivion. Turel and Rumyal, Great Antagonists who had previously offered counsel to the Adversary himself, were instantly extinguished along with eighteen devas. She disappeared. Irel alone remained. Soneillon reappeared, and her speed was blinding. Tendrils of void lashed the fallen prince, stripping away [I]ens[/I] like vapor, and flinging his mace from his hands. She hissed, and drove him into the ground in a tempest, claws sinking through his throat and chest and pinning him. Ichor steamed as it poured from his massive frame, staining the snow black; his strength ebbed from him. She paused, and smiled. “My, but you [I]are[/I] the pretty one,” Her eyes widened and her wings curled. “And you are unbound; without compact: I believe she [I]likes[/I] you – how delicious! It is so tempting to [I]steal[/I] you. Alas! My heart belongs to another. But now I am feeling tender; she may keep you. Invoke your mistress by name.” The deva was silent. She raised an eyebrow. “Presently, I am keeping you from dying, Irel, and it would be sad to lose one as beautiful as you. Do you trust that your spirit will fly to the winds; or will it go to the Tree-Bitch for [I]reallocation[/I] – perhaps, as a wood-gnome or troll? Heaven is lost to you, and there is no time to show you the Void. She may save you – if she cares for you. Speak.” “Shomei,” he choked. Ichor welled in his mouth. She brought her face close, and her grip relaxed. She moved over him. “Good…” She breathed softly in his ear. She lifted her head and smiled at Shomei, whose infernal perception had been drawn there. Soneillon gently withdrew her talons, and vanished. ** Shomei tapped her fingers. She picked up a bottle of [I]kschiff[/I] and hurled it against a bookcase. Hellfire crawled over her. Mostin smiled unsympathetically. “You’re in way over your head; she has fifteen billion years on you, and she [I]enjoys[/I] this. Perhaps you are beginning to appreciate the magnitude of this task?” “How did she see them?” “I could not say,” Mostin replied. “Probably a transvalent. She may have allies.” “I spent a third of my reservoir repairing Irel’s wounds. They just [I]wouldn’t heal[/I]. His cohesion was…wrong.” “You are fortunate she simply obliterated the others,” Mostin observed drily. “If you were to send your [I]Ú[/I]s…” Mostin became irritable. “Shomei, you may be exempt from the Injunction – and I say [I]may be[/I], because much has yet to be tested – but one thing is certain: [I]I am not[/I]. You asked me here for advice, and I will give it to you: [I]let this go[/I]. You are simply unprepared for this endeavor; if you do actually attack her and she survives and escapes do you really think that she will calmly forgive? Do you think Eadric – I’m sorry, the [I]Ahma[/I] – will? Now, I am going to offer you some [I]perspective[/I] again, because it is apparent to me that at this point that she has acted with the utmost restraint with regard to you…” “I don’t need this, Mostin...” “…[I]by not already annihilating you.[/I] And if you don’t think she could have accomplished this, had she set her mind to it, then you are [I]stupid[/I]. Perhaps Eadric has restrained her; perhaps her perspective is other than we can guess. And she let you keep your favorite toy; although what you see in those hideous, feathery monsters is beyond me.” Shomei glared at him. “She drew first blood, Mostin, not I.” “And I think she might cite provocation as a reasonable defense; frankly, I would be inclined to agree with her. You are the lawyer; what do you think? Perhaps we should ask Gihaahia to mediate – although Soneillon’s [I]exemption[/I] with regard to the Injunction is not in question. Do not give her a [I]casus belli.[/I]” “I cannot slow now, Mostin.” “You must!” He was exasperated. “No; I cannot. [I]It is what I am.[/I]” “Then you should repair to your library,” he said grimly. “Or stay safely within the compass of the Hazel, because if you begin this and then step beyond its bounds – and are not prepared to finish what you’ve started – then she will find you and extinguish you. You will make a prison for yourself, Shomei; and that is [I]symmetry[/I].” “Will you aid me?” “I am disinclined,” he replied. “If you were to speak to the [I]Ahma[/I]; find out what transpired at Deorham. He has returned to Galda…” “I will not [I]spy[/I] for you Shomei. If you have questions for Eadric, ask them yourself.” “Mostin. Please. Then use the [I]Web of Motes[/I]. At least let me know what I’m dealing with that I haven’t foreseen.” He stood and sighed. “I will contact you in one hour. Do not ask me for anything else. Here.” He took off his hat – his favorite ochre felt, with its wide brim somewhat charred – and placed it on her head. * Exactly one hour later, Shomei received a [I]sending[/I] which contained only one word: [I]Carasch[/I]. She sat and tapped her fingers. Time elapsed. She translated to Galda for the final time. ** “I see you bear your rod,” Eadric said dubiously. “Are you here to coerce me this time?” “It is a preventative measure,” Shomei explained. “May I sit?” He gestured toward a chair. “I am not about to assail you, Shomei. I’m glad you came. I have been considering how to approach you.” “[I]Ahma[/I], I lost twenty of my best devils earlier today in an unprovoked attack by your lover.” “Unprovoked?” He asked sceptically. “Would you like [I]kasshiv[/I]? It’s all I have left – Nwm and Ortwine drank everything else.” “Yes.” She raised an eyebrow at his pronunciation. “My servants were reconnoitering over Trempa; they were beyond the compass of the Blackthorn.” “I did not realize a formal exclusion zone had been established,” he said drily, pouring a goblet for her. “Shomei, I have been pondering how to deal with this [I]situation[/I] and I’m at a loss. I cannot seem to appeal to you; I cannot risk [I]forbidding[/I] you for fear of provoking the [I]Antinomos[/I] in you to an immediate response: I do not wish to come to blows with you. But you are flouting every law conceivable: Wyrish, magickal, ethical and religious. What would you have me do?” “Enkindle your potential, [I]Ahma[/I]. But you do not seem interested in assuming this responsibility.” “That is a larger question which we may return to,” Eadric sighed. “In the meantime I must consider the wellbeing of those whom I am charged to protect; I am Earl Marshal of Wyre, Shomei: I must defend it, regardless.” “You know that Carasch is aiding her, of course?” “He is her watchdog. I have encountered him. He is terrifying. It is not germane to this discussion.” “I lost two seraphs in her ambush, [I]Ahma[/I].” “They ceased being seraphim at the beginning of the [I]last[/I] Aeon, Shomei.” “Yet the [I]Ahma[/I] would place himself as a shield before this chthonic abomination?” She asked. “No,” he groaned. “But he would place himself as a shield before the inhabitants of Trempa. There are limits on the number of devils which even you can conjure and compel, Shomei. If you send them in waves, will she be able to kill them quicker than you can call more? Or perhaps you will muster a large force, and she will entrench further: and the longer the buildup, the worse for everyone.” Shomei looked hard at him. “Not all devils need to be compelled, [I]Ahma[/I]. Only a key few – and then, only persuaded. I could end this all very quickly.” His eyes flickered nervously. “I do not follow.” “Azazel still bears the standard; two hundred legions accompany him. There is no longer a Celestial Interdict.” A look of horror crossed his face. “You would do this? Raise [I]that[/I] banner over Wyre?” “I would prefer not to, but I must have the [I]Urn[/I], [I]Ahma[/I].” “By invoking the eschaton? And you dub Soneillon psychotic?” “She is,” Shomei smiled thinly. “I am merely determined. And the eschaton has been and gone, [I]Ahma[/I]. We are what’s left.” “And if I were to demand of you – [I]command[/I] you – how would you respond?” Shomei shook her head. “Please do not force me to make that choice, [I]Ahma[/I]. It would not sit well with me.” “Indeed? For one who asserts the [I]Ahma[/I] as central to their paradigm I am sure it would cause you some discomfort.” “I simply wish you would embrace the larger reality.” “Then perhaps we should force the issue.” He stood grimly and drew [I]Lukarn[/I], gripping it below the quillons and presenting it in censure. It illuminated the interior of the tent. “By the authority…” “Please, [I]Ahma[/I]...” “…vested in me as [I]Ahma[/I]; the Breath of God manifest in the world…” “[I]Ahma[/I]…” “…I hereby command…” “Eadric. Do not…” “…that [I]Shomei[/I]…” Her Flame ignited. She brought the full force of her will to bear through her rod; it was colossal, and should have overpowered him. Instead, there was a resonance, and a reflection, which Shomei experienced as a great gale blasting over her. His pavillion and its contents were gone, blown to the four winds. Both Shomei’s eyes and those of the [I]Ahma[/I] became wide in astonishment; a cluster of lotuses in the garland which he wore on his wrist had turned to dust: Soneillon had warded him, and he hadn’t even known it. Devas and archons appeared all around him, summoned by his thought, but her presence paralyzed them; they would not strike her, only worship her. He [I]smote[/I] her repeatedly, but her exemption protected her. Her will recommenced, unleashing a cyclone of hellfire focused on herself which could not touch him, but which slowly burned the garland to ash. He spoke a [I]holy word[/I]; again, exemption sustained her. The firestorm increased in intensity; still the lotuses burned away. The devas were incinerated. Nwm – alerted and now present – struck her with a sonic of tremendous power, which echoed for miles. She weathered it, and her focus did not falter; she hurled the Preceptor aside with [I]telekinesis[/I]. The last blossom turned to soot. Finally, she gripped Eadric’s mind, and [I]dominated[/I] him. “I’m sorry, [I]Ahma[/I]. It’s a preventative measure.” She wept. Abruptly, both Shomei the Infernal and the [I]Ahma[/I] vanished. ** ** The goddess strode ahead impatiently. Teppu followed, anxiously. “What should I call you?” “It does not matter – call me what you wish.” Her manner was disconcertingly brusque. “You were Nehael before,” he suggested. “Then call me Nehael.” “But you are no longer the same.” “Then call me something different,” she sighed. “May I choose a name?” He suggested. “Why not?” “Names are important.” He explained. “Are they?” She asked. “Yes! Stop!” She stopped, and smiled at him. “Do you have one for me?” “You are not so different,” Teppu laughed. “Where are you going?” “This way,” she said. “What is this way?” “What I need.” “What…” ”Good,” she said. A horse stood waiting; a varnish roan mare. Strapped to the saddle was an arming sword. A bow – with flowers tied around its limbs – was fixed around its cantle, and a quiver of red-fletched arrows hung from its skirt. Teppu raised an eyebrow. “That bow is…” “Yew.” “And the arrows…” “[I]Hazel.[/I]” “And the sword…” She drew it, and it rang; runes were etched into its blade: [I]Trúa[/I]. “Compassion?” He asked. She shook her head. “[I]Pity[/I], Teppu. One cannot slay with compassion.” “Where are you going now?” He asked. “South,” she smiled. “Why…” “The [I]dead[/I] are there Teppu. Are you coming?” “Certainly,” he replied uncertainly. She climbed into the saddle, picked him up, and deposited him behind her. Moments later, they were at Cirone. Ahead, the [I]Pall of Dhatri[/I] loomed. ** [/QUOTE]
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