The Tears of Kas̆dael

“S̆ams̆ā-” Jasper descended into a fit of coughing as he breathed in the swirling smoke surrounding him. Damn it - I’m going to suffocate before I find him. He crouched low, keeping a wary eye ahead of him as he fished in his bag for a handkerchief. Finding it, he doused the rag with water from his canteen and wrapped it around his face. It was far from a perfect filter, but it was better than nothing. Where the hell did he go?

Shoving off from the wall, he jogged deeper into the smoke. It was so thick that he could only see a few feet ahead of them and, strangely, he could not determine the cause. There were no buildings around him, at least not within his range of detection, and he realized the assassins must have set a trap, relying on S̆ams̆ādur’s efforts to help the villages. Reinforcements were coming, but he doubted they would arrive before it was too late.

Metal clanged against metal somewhere in the smoke behind him, followed by a familiar curse.

“Kruvas̆.”

He spun around and charged in the direction of the voice. He stumbled as his foot hit something on the ground, and cursed as he realized it was a body - a body wearing the garments of the followers of Mūt-Lā'is̆. The prince cried out again, and Jasper sped up. A moment later a cluster of shadowy figures loomed through the haze. Three assassins stood with their backs to him while the prince swung his axe in a wild arc to keep them at bay - though judging from the blood cascading from a nasty wound in his shoulder, it was clear he wasn't succeeding.

“Duck!” Jasper roared as he channeled his essence into a hasty spell.

S̆ams̆ādur dove to the ground and, unfortunately, so too did two of his assailants. The third was slower on the uptake and the long, spectral whip that arced through the air caught him in the cheek. It flayed open his flesh, revealing the teeth beneath, but the gnarly injury was the least of the assassin's concerns. His howls filled the air as the specters feasted on him.

Leaving their comrade to die, the remaining two assassins sprung to their feet again and charged toward the prince, but they didn't make it that far. "Fiery Shackles," Jasper snapped and followed it up with a second spell. “Purge.” With a choked howl, one sunk to his knees, clawing at his throat, while the second was deprived of his head by S̆ams̆ādur's axe.

"Are you alr-"

“Ana Mūt-La’is̆.” The air gushed from Jasper's lungs as the assassin struck him from behind and the man's axe dug deep into his chest. He collapsed to his knees as the assassin kicked out his legs from beneath him, and the pain intensified as the assailant ripped the axe free from his chest.

In a flash, the assassin stood over him and raised his axe high to deliver a killing blow, while four more emerged from the smoke to intersect S̆ams̆ādur. “Ana Mūt-La’is̆,” the man screamed again. It wasn't exactly a villain's monologue, but it gave him the moment needed to cast a spell.

Seraph Burst. The axe had already begun its downward trajectory as he released the essence, but his body lurched forward with unnatural speed, avoiding the blow. He spun wildly as the spell rocketed him forward, the metallic wings rotating around his body in a cyclone of death, and collided with the foes charging the prince.

Blood and flesh, much of it his own, filled the air as the wings carved into two of the assailants and drove them backward. They handed in a heap, driven into the ground by the final pulse of the spell, and Jasper finally managed to cast the spell he’d been reaching for. Circle of Forgiveness. He spat out blood as the wounds on his back healed and stumbled to his knees, aware of movement beside him.

Something blurred toward him, and he reared back as a dagger slashed in front of his face. With no time to cast a spell, he grabbed the arm and twisted his hips to the left. The assassin howled as the arm snapped, the dagger falling limply to the ground, and Jasper lurched to his feet. He kicked the assassin in the back and stumbled backward, his hands twisting with a spell. Shooting Star.

He turned away as the fiery orbs bombarded the two struggling assassins, searching again for the durgu. But the spell had borne them far enough away that he could no longer see the prince and, by now, the soaked rag was doing little to mask the overwhelming smoke. Damn it. We can’t stay here much longer.

Something moved in the corner of his eye, and he reacted instinctually, shifting to the side as an axe whistled toward him. Purge. The assassin’s moment stopped, clutching at her throat, and he brushed past her, breaking into a jog. Where the hell are you?

A pained cry echoed somewhere to his left, and he headed that way, wheezing with every step he took. “S̆ams̆ā-” He cut his cry short as he spotted the prince, kneeling on the ground before a truly massive individual, who had his back to Jasper.

He dropped to the ground, hoping the foe hadn’t seen him, and readied a spell. Maṣṣartu. As the guardian began to form beside him, Jasper kept his eyes trained on the prince, waiting to see if he needed to strike immediately.

“Any chance I can buy you off,” the prince asked the man, with a forced chuckle. “My pockets aren’t as deep as my father’s, but I’m considerably more motivated. Name your price.”

“The servants of Mūt-La’is̆ honor their contracts,” the foe rumbled.

“You know I’m a mind mage, right? I avoid it usually, but I could just take over your mind,” the durgu continued.

A contemptuous snort was the only answer he received as the foe pulled a letter out of his bag. “Before I slay you, there is something the king wanted me to tell you.”

“Yes, yes - I’m unbearably handsome, and he’s always been jealous of me. Get on with it,” the prince wheezed out.

“You were never his son. Just a tool that outlived its usefulness,” the assassin replied, ignoring the durgu’s jests.

“That all?” the prince replied. “That much has been obvious for years.”

The letter fluttered to the ground as the man tossed it aside, and reached for his axe. “He also wanted you to know that this day was always coming - the day he died would have been yours as well.”

Seraph Burst. The man staggered as Jasper slammed into him from the back, but he only moved a single step. With a roar, the man yanked his axe backward, slamming the hilt into Jasper’s chest and tossing him off his back. And as the assassin spun to face him, Jasper finally caught a glimpse of the follower of Mūt-La’is̆’s face.

He had no eyes.

There were only empty sockets where his eyes should have been, and the rest of his face had been mutilated too. His nose had been sheared off and his lips had been split vertically, allowing sharpened teeth to peek through, while his ears had been separated into three distinct flaps. The lack of eyes didn’t seem to slow him down, however.

The man leapt forward, swinging the axe directly toward Jasper’s head. He dove beneath the blow, throwing himself at the assassin’s legs in an attempt to bring him down, but the man’s knee snapped up. Stars danced across his vision as it caught him in the chin, and he staggered back.

“Ana Biranāti.” With a strangled cry, the durgu attacked from behind, slamming his axe into the assassin’s back. The blow bounced off, but it garnered his attention. Despite his massive size, he spun around with the grace and speed of a ballerina - faster than the durgu had been prepared for. The axe head sheared through the shaft of S̆ams̆ādur’s axe, leaving him weaponless, and he took a swift step forward, prepared for the killing blow.

But the man of Mūt-La’is̆ hadn’t seen the maṣṣartu. A beam of bright light shot out from the summon’s hands and slashed across the back of his left knee. His leg buckled beneath him as the tendons were burnt out, but he caught himself with one hand and roared his defiance. “Ana Mūt-La’is̆.”

Up til then, none of the assassins had shown the slightest skill with magic, so Jasper had assumed they were all warriors. He’d assumed wrong.

A wave of eldritch green exploded from the man’s body, forcing them a step back, and the ruined tendons on his leg knit back together in a fraction of a second. With renewed strength he leapt forward, swinging his axe toward S̆ams̆ādur, but Jasper had had time to recover. Spectral Wings.

He swooped toward the assassin like an owl on the hunt, the spectral wings utterly silent as he dove down and wrapped his arms around the man’s chest. The man grunted in surprise but rammed his elbow into Jasper’s ribs with enough force to break bones. But Jasper held on as he shot into the air, dragging the man with him.

A brief and frantic struggle followed, and the man quickly overpowered him, shoving his arm aside, but as the assassin fell, Jasper snagged him by the collar. The man smacked his arm - once, twice, thrice - and Jasper felt the bones break. His hand opened unwillingly, and the assassin broke free - but Jasper had gotten high enough.

He hovered for a second, watching as the man plummeted to the ground below where he hit like a crash dummy, bouncing along the earth until he stopped in a crumbled heap. With grim satisfaction, Jasper cast Circle of Forgiveness, groaning in relief as his arm popped back into place - and then he noticed the assassin’s body shudder. Crap.

He dove toward him, preparing another spell from his quickly diminishing pool of essence, but the durgu beat him to it. Wielding the broken upper half of his axe like a tomahawk, the prince brought it down on the man’s neck. One blow, three, four - and it finally dropped to the ground.

They’d won round three.

Jasper pulled the durgu out of the smoke, and after casting Circle of Forgiveness enough to heal the worst of his wounds, waited for the prince’s men to arrive. It wasn’t a long wait as the durgu had sprinted the entire way, arriving a few minutes later for a battle that had already been won.

Instead, following Jasper’s directions, they searched for the source of the fire and began dragging the bodies into a pile to be searched. The task was made easier when the durgu found the source - a ritual circle containing certain unsavory ingredients. Once they'd stomped it, the smoke began to clear, but as the durgū dragged the bodies out, Jasper thought the pile seemed a bit small.

As one of the durgū emerged from the dissipating smoke, carrying a body over his shoulder, he pulled the man aside. “Hey, have you seen a really big, headless dude? As big as a troll, has no eyes, a winsome smile?” he asked, masking his concern.

The man shifted his burden uncomfortably and shook his head. “Think this is the last one, my lord. You can look for yourself-”

Jasper took off running, racing through the increasingly invisible fields in search of the massive assassin, but the durgu had spoken the truth. There was no sign of the giant - nothing but a pool of blood where he had fallen, and a pair of tracks that led off into the distance. Jasper followed them for a few hundred feet before he lost the trail.

Giving up, he returned to the makeshift camp to find the prince had rallied. The durgū had finished sorting through the bodies, but unfortunately, they’d found nothing of use, save for a handful of letters that S̆ams̆ādur had torn into shreds. Jasper could guess what those had said.

“Any sign of our giant friend,” the prince greeted him, and his eyes tightened as Jasper shook his head.

“Got any scouts,” he asked. “I started to follow some tracks to the north, but lost them.”

“I do, but I'm not going to send my men after him. It's not worth the risk,” the prince replied. “If he could walk off losing his head, there’s no telling what else he’s capable of. It could be a trap, and neither of us is ready for another round.”

Although allowing an enemy to escape irked Jasper, he knew the prince was right. He was nearly dry of essence and was the only one in the group with a healing spell; to attack now would be folly. “Well, at least we got some of them,” he sighed.

“Eh,” the prince slapped him on the back. “We did more than that. I don’t care how powerful that mage is, no one - I mean no one - likes losing their head. He’ll think twice before coming after us.”

Jasper hoped that was true, but he doubted it. Fanatics weren’t known for being reasonable, after all.