Zeka
Once we had cleaned up after breakfast, Egla and Dera stayed at camp. Before we left, Dera pulled Zora aside for some whispered warnings and instructions.
Our queen led our group across the causeway. Kia was in goblin-form; Bish was in her half-troll form.
"Hello, again, Yirk," Zora said, through the interlaced bars of the portcullis.
"I've been ordered not to open the gate," he replied.
"I just need to chat with my sister, and I'll be on my way," she told him.
"I have my orders," he said.
"I'm afraid I'll have to insist," she replied.
"You're welcome to open the gate and come in," he said, grinning.
"I'll take you at your word, then," she told him.
His grin disappeared.
Turning to our group, she said, "Awka, cover the bars in frost. Keep applying the frost until the metal is frozen. Try to keep from creating an ice barrier on the gate."
Awka nodded and stepped forward.
One of the archers moved to watch her, unshouldering his bow.
Looking up at him, she announced, "You heard Yirk. I'm permitted to open the gate, if I can. If you try to fire on one of my team members, you will be removed."
Smirking, the bowman pulled an arrow from his quiver.
He fell from the rampart with an arrow sticking out of his gaping mouth.
The rest of the archers tensed and then stepped back.
Glancing through the portcullis, Zora told Yirk, loudly enough for everyone to hear, "Tell that dumbass on the stairs at the other end of the courtyard that the next shot goes in his left eye if he doesn't put that bow down. You have until the count of five."
Yirk stepped back. The archer sneered and readied his bow. When Zora said, "one", Imka fired. The gate captain - and most of the rest of those in the courtyard - swallowed loudly as a thorn-arrow sprouted from the man's left eye-socket.
The dead man lost his grip on his weapon, the arrow tumbled free, and the bowstring fired, empty. The strain of it shattered the bow, causing more damage to the archer's corpse. The dead body tumbled, face first, onto the grass below the stairs. The fall broke his neck - not that it mattered - but the awkward angle of his head - as he finally came to rest - caused a few more of the guards to second-guess their decisions - the decisions to not have asked for a mental health day during that morning's roll-call.
Seeing no other threats that needed addressed, Zora checked the iron bars of the portcullis, nodding to Awka.
"Bish?"
"My queen?"
"Fancy playing at a battering ram?"
The rest of us stepped out of the way as Bish jogged to the middle of the causeway, turned, kicked in the nitrous, and launched herself at the gate. She didn't break through; she bounced off, landing on her feet and giggling. The valley resonated with the sound of her collision.
Zora nodded to Awka and then to Bish. The half-troll returned to the center of the bridge, changed to her larger, native form, and blasted off at top speed.
Yirk was knocked against the wall of the entryway as the iron gate shattered into shrapnel as Bish exploded through it.
I raised my hand and healed his lacerations, shattered forearm, bruises, and concussion. I offered my hand and helped him to his feet.
"Sorry about that," I said. "We probably should have warned you to step back."
He nodded, his mind blank. We'd thrown him off of his script and he didn't know what to do.
"If you could escort us to the queen's reception area," I told him, "we can probably keep from killing anybody else."
He turned and led the way down the street. Bish had already transformed back to her half-troll form. She walked next to Zora. Imka, Reav, and I were next. Awka and Kia brought up the rear.
Yirk handed us off to the door guards and left. One of them handed his spear to his partner and then ducked inside to see what they were supposed to do. The other one nervously shifted from foot to foot, anxious for his buddy to return.
The poor man glanced over, at the closed door, and looked back at Zora to find himself facing Kia in her warg-form. The spears tumbled to the ground. The only other thing he left behind was the acrid smell of soiled under-garments.
We waited another minute before the first guard returned. He glanced down, at the abandoned spears, lying on the ground, and looked at Zora.
"He had to go to the privy," she told the man, her face not giving away how much she wanted to burst into laughter.
The man opened the door, to rush back inside, Bish grabbed the huge door from his grasp and swung it open for us to enter. The guard scampered away.
We walked into a massive hall and paused for a breath to give our eyes a half-moment to adjust to the dark interior. Queen Zeka was seated, on her throne, at the other end of the huge room. We walked about halfway across the space before a guard stepped in front of us.
"What do you want, Zora?" Zeka called out haughtily from her seat.
"I'm here to help you with a problem, dear sister," Zora replied.
The man who stepped forward to challenge us must have been the captain of the queen's guard. He was bigger than all of the others. His outfit was cute, too. The little epilates on his shoulders were "tellement jolie" - as they say in France.
(I had no clue where the land of France was located but I figured telling him his accents were "so pretty" would probably piss him off. He already looked pretty pissed. Ha! 'So pretty' pissed!)
"You are a filthy mutt. You don't deserve to breathe the same air as the queen," he snarled, as he hefted his sword threateningly.
"Take your best shot," Zora growled at him.
As he swung his sword at her neck, I instantly grew worried that she might try to take the sword-hit - just to prove she could - which I hoped, beyond hope, was actually true. The blade was heavy, though, and I worried about even a small cut ripping into her bulging juggler vein.
She raised her hand, though, and caught the blade with her palm - holding it until he pulled it away.
"My turn," she told him. Glancing back at me, she loudly called out, "Heal him."
She turned to face the guard, again, and began firing briar-blades from her palms at every piece of exposed skin. None of her shots touched anything vital. His hands, arms, forehead, cheeks, legs - all - received stabbing or slicing wounds from her blades as she waved both of her hands across the entirety of his body. A blizzard of flying blades chewed his skin to tatters - a moment before I repaired the damage. I poured healing into him. Any blade that bit into his muscle was ejected as I closed the wounds. A pile of blades fell to the floor. Nothing bled long enough to allow even a drop of his blood to drip or fall - but the pain savaged his body and his mind. He dropped his sword and fell to his knees, pulling his arms up to cover his face.
Finally Zora ended the torrent of pain she had poured out on him.
"That's not even half of my mana," she told him, the disgust obvious in her voice. "If Zack had not healed you, you would have been dead a thousand times. I didn't even target anything important. If you ever - and I mean EVER raise a weapon at me again, I will fucking END you - right before I have Awka suck out your eyes so I can shit in your sightless skull."
Silence reigned throughout the hall.
"Do it," Reav sneered at the kneeling man.
"Reav," I said.
"Yes, da?" he asked innocently, as if we were discussing our favorite foods around the campfire.
"That's not nice," I told him.
He didn't reply. His leering gaze moved from the ruined champion to the other heavily-armed warriors standing nearby.
I laughed and told him, "You won't have any friends if you don't learn to play well with others. Come on, Queen Zora needs to talk to her sister."
