The Gift of Stolen Time - Part 13
Title: The Gift Of Stolen Time
Author: Dark_Kurai
Pairing: Cara/Kahlan, touches of Cara/Dahlia
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Spoilers: Should be none, plays after 2x22.
Summary: Follow-up to A Tear, A Word, A Smile - When Zedd opens a magical portal to ease their travels after the victory against the Keeper, something goes wrong that forces Cara away from the Midlands for some time...
A/N: Aaaand the last year! It's too hot to babble and I'm kinda busy, so I'll just post and hurry on.
13.
The fourth year on Darza:
Occasionally, but not often, Cara would be reminded of her past. She was used to compartmentalization and a master at repression, so it was no wonder that over the years she took all her memories and pushed them into a small, imagined chest that she closed off and hid somewhere in the darkest corner of her consciousness. It was safer that way, less painful for her mind, as without doing this her being would've been ripped apart into little, lifeless pieces by homesickness long ago.
But sometimes when she touched her Agiels, if she was distracted, she grew reminiscent of Richard and the memory of her bond to the Lord Rahl. Ever so often while watching the pot simmering a picture of Zedd and his eating habit would come into her mind. After cleaning her leathers, she would recall times long gone with Dahlia. Yet the hardest thing to hide away was the image of intense blue eyes and the warm smile that lit them up like the rising dawn. The Mother Confessor was haunting her dreams even after everything else started to slip away gradually, becoming lost in the fog that Cara was conjuring up out of her own free will.
It will get better in time, she told herself, the hurt will lessen. You will grow used to this pain just like you did to every other kind. The hope that this would be the case kept her repression strong. Kept her from acknowledging that she had been left behind.
What helped was the companionship she had built up with Noa. It was like a soothing blend of how she worked with her Sisters and the friendship binding her as much to those she had traveled with as the Lord Rahl bond did. The two of them had a pleasant and unspoken 'Don't ask, don't tell' policy, didn't speak about meddlesome side business like feelings and things past, but, most importantly, there was no constant, annoying touching and hugging. The girl looked after Cara's hair with utmost care, but that was just like her Sisters would have done.
Well, maybe without the loud off-key whistling.
But Noa was no Mord'Sith. Although she could carry the agony educing leather rod by now around as easily as a cooking spoon, her constant movement, upbeat character and insolent mouth wouldn't have only driven the whole temple mad, but would've also insured that she spent more time counting tiles while hanging from the dungeon ceiling than out in the sun. Although, as much as she wanted to strangle the brat from time to time for doing reckless stunts like jumping into the water with a jolly scream when Cara was bathing or dancing around the fire while the Mord'Sith tried to sleep, it kept her from missing the helpless fools in the Midlands too much. The fact that they had left her here spoke volumes and she had the hardest time to try and not feel betrayed. She was just a tool, a weapon, why search for someone they could replace with another red-clad sister?
Cara didn't even realize how much she got used to taking care of the kid and being around her when she shot off the third farmer making a pass at her in the tavern she was selling the metallic goods at. Staying away for a few hours longer to indulge in such time-consuming actions like copulation seemed wasted and would only make her more nervous about Noa's well-being.
Was she a save distance away from the village? Had she broken her neck while exercising a completely useless flip? What if she grew sick? Or maybe she set herself on fire again, after figuring out a few weeks ago that playing with flames was fun. Having projected her concern about her Lord Rahl onto Noa, the shift from mere duty to affection had been subtle and gone over her head. Maybe she also had just turned her gaze the other way, simply refusing to deal with the fact that she cared.
Swinging herself into the saddle of her recently acquired new horse, which her trainee had insisted on calling Cujo, the Mord'Sith rode back out into the woods, ignoring the sad gaze the rejected young man sent after her.
Once she was a safe distance away, she slowed down and patted the horse's long golden neck. "Dumb farmboys and prudish housewives, nothing that's worth our status, huh, boy?"
Cujo nickered, throwing up his head in a gesture suggesting affirmation. When Noa had sworn that this would be the perfect mount for the older blonde, Cara had scoffed at first. But now, sitting atop the golden, white-flecked steed, she believed there would never be another one like him. Again she stroked her hand across the coarse, golden fur, then spurned him on.
After noon they would eat the rest of the deer that Cara had shot the day before, and the Mord'Sith was eager to reach the camp to fill her protesting stomach. Another good reason to hurry was the light start of a drizzle that poured out of the clouds.
Curse this weather! The wet leather is a pain to get dry again.
When Cujo stomped into their camp and came to rest next to the other three horses they traveled with, the other mounts neighed agitated and shuffled their hoofs on the ground. Confused at their reaction, Cara slid from the saddle, sending them a wondering look.
"I'm gone for a few hours and you already start behaving like I'm a stranger? Just see if you get an apple from me again."
But the horses didn't shy away from her, staying restless even when she laid a calming hand on their noses. Their distress was of other nature.
"Noa, did you feed them one of your strange herb mixes again? Because, I swear to the Creator, if they stay this skittish, the next time you can drink it down yourself..." Expecting a peeved answer, the Mord'Sith was surprised at the silence.
She peaked around the animal's bodies. "Noa?"
The camp was deserted.
Furrowing her brow, Cara stepped closer, looking for signs where the kid might have run off to. Her sleeping roll was still lying on the ground, thrown of in a hurry and now soaked from the steadily growing drizzle.
This was the point where Cara started to grow anxious. An internal alarm went of, every instinct screaming at her that something was wrong.
"Noa!" she shouted louder. No answer.
But it caused the Mord'Sith to focus and listen intently. And that was when she heard the shouting.
Propelling herself forward, Cara felt the pain of the Agiel race across her nerves and flesh before she realized that she had drawn it. Muddy dirt and pieces of the soil sprayed to all sides when her boots hit the earth, twigs and leaves slapping like whips against her leather, like tiny, vicious hands grabbing her, slowing her down, holding her back.
Nothing was able to deter the Mord'Sith from their goal. No crossbow's arrows, no deadly wound and certainly nothing irrelevant like dense forest.
There were prints in the mud, people had come through the underbrush and had run in the same direction. The angry shouts and sounds of scuffle were coming closer. The world around her turned to a blur, her legs burning from pushing forward even faster, until the green foliage around her grew light.
There were twelve, maybe more. In the fraction of a second Cara gathered all the information she needed: an open field with thrown up earth from the many feet stumbling back and forth, a group of grown men punching and hacking and raging, the lithe figure of Noa that blocked, evaded and dodged while her face was drawn with building exhaustion and fear.
"Kill the demon! She's getting tired!"
Without slowing down even a moment, Cara sprinted forward, using her speed to hit the jaw of the man closest to her with a force that broke bone like dry branches. It sent him reeling, unable to utter even a single sound before he slammed on the ground.
Still in her momentum, her Agiel found the side of another opponent. If the leather rod had been a dagger, it would've sunk in to the hilt, but this way the unfortunate victim was filled with enough pain to let loose an ear-shattering cry, alarming the others to her presence.
"The other one is back, quick!" someone prompted, causing two others to throw ropes in the hope to catch and immobilize her.
Catching the ridiculous attempt of subduing in her free hand with an angry growl, she janked hard, causing the two attackers to stumble in surprise at the Mord'Sith's strength. The muddy earth and relentless rain made it hard for untrained people to keep their footing.
Judging the state of the field, Noa had been protecting herself against her would-be killers for quite a while. Even yet the kid was jumping and tumbling around, harder to hit than a frantic bird. Although she had been unable - or unwilling? - to counter their attacks, the villagers hadn't fared much better.
It made Cara proud to see her student fight so well, but the feeling was blanketed by the stronger current of battle lust and loathing that had her in their grip.
"You'll pay for this, you cowardly bastards," she hissed between her teeth at a horrified man, who found his end on his knees by her Agiel. Seeing him go down, the other ones split up between her and Noa with angry howls.
"This is for Rorsh!" one screamed and tried to hit her with a shovel and all his power, but she merely grabbed the incoming wooden part right under the shovel blade with an unimpressed sneer, catapulting the handle back into his face with a flick of her arm. Blood sprayed, the nose cracking like thick paper. The man stumbled back with a yell.
"You brought Rorsh onto yourself, so stop wailing!" Sending a kick to her rear end, Cara planted her foot deeply into an enemy's gut, satisfaction filling her at his painful retch. Spirits, this felt good! She hadn't realized how much she missed delivering agony until now. And the rightful anger filling her about these scumbags trying to execute her trainee once again drove her forth without stopping to catch her breath.
The Agiel sung its symphony of anguish and in the middle of her fight she found the other one that Noa had discarded on the ground after her teacher had entered the scuffle. A short glance to the right showed her the girl still evading blows, a foreign and serious look of concentration on her young face. From time to time Noa used the annoyed attacker's whole frames for her stunts, pushing herself from shoulders and swinging around arms and legs with swift skill.
"Keep them warm for me!" Cara threw over at her, a mad grin stretching across her face while dealing with two villagers at once. She played with them, like a cat pushing around her doomed prey with a curled paw. And they knew that they were helpless against this deadly predator, but desperation and the feeling of mad revenge kept them coming.
They all fell with their last image being that of a mercilessly grinning Mord'Sith. It would haunt them even in a world far beyond this one.
They're tough, she had to admit that. The ones she didn't manage to kill or knock out stood up after a short while, intend on fighting to their last breath. Every D'Haran soldier in her home-world should have been half as persistent as these farmers, but if that had been the case, the journey to bring the Stone of Tears to its destined place would've been even more demanding.
Maybe it was better if this display of perseverance stayed in Darza.
Forcing her foot down on her opponent's upper leg, it was the slippery ground that saved his limb from being broken by the hit. Instead he lost his footing and crashed to the ground, the back of her heel knocking him out for good.
Cara ducked, slashed and dropped another one. The next time she let herself be hit from the side, she caught the offending wrist between her arms. A twist, a snap. The man screamed, drawing back his broken arm, then grew silent when she back-handed him harshly with her Agiel.
No mercy.
Not even the D'Harans and Sisters of the Dark had been so brutally wrecked by the Mord'Sith, her hand forced into giving compassion and quick deaths to her enemies near the looming, good-hearted presence of her traveling companions.
But right here, right now, there were no borders, rules or civility that could keep her blood-thirsty beast of sadism contained. Without the gentle leash she was breathing dread.
Three more man lay on the ground, groaning and sobbing in pain, just as unable to die as they were to move. Pulling the feet out from under the last opponent that stood, she left her weapon to dangle dangerously from her wrist and near his skin, while her free hand snatched his throat to keep him upright, but with both feet scrambling on the mud beneath his soles.
"I will leave the rest of you alive, mangled and hurting, so that you finally understand that you can't win against us. And if you or anyone else comes near us one more damn time, what happened to you today or back in Rorsh will be a gentle prodding compared to what I will do then, understood?"
As if unable to decide if to spit in her face or pee his pants, the thinly bearded man, most likely just a few years older than Cara, trembled speechlessly in her grip, nearly choking on the tight hold she kept on his neck. In the end she simply pushed the Agiel into his temple until his eyes rolled back and he collapsed with a gurgle.
"Spineless scum," she spat, kicking the unconscious hard enough into the ribs to leave a bruise. Still feeling the adrenalin of the battle dance through her flesh, she took a few, deep breaths to settle her center.
Until she could feel a certain amount of calm envelop her insides again. Pulling away the by now wet blond hair that clung to her neck, Cara looked around, the long strands now draped nearly along the whole length of her back.
"It's fine, Noa!" she called over her shoulder, her gaze wandering across the ground, littered with bodys both dead and alive. "Let's go back, so that I can teach you a few things about actually using the weapons I leave for your protection," she added dryly, looking with distaste at the dried mud sticking to the second leather rod.
Turning around slowly, her eyes swept across the edge of the treeline. Where was the brat? In the middle of the fight she had seen the girl slipping through her enemy's arms with ease, but the men around her had all come to engage Cara sooner or later.
This is not a game. If she uses her hiding trick, she'll get an earful from me.
Stepping towards the end of the field, not minding the groaning frames she kicked while walking, she let out a weary huff. Not needed anymore, the weapons went back into their holster. Her leathers were drenched by now and stuck to her skin. Great, just what I needed.
"Get over here, you foolish, little-..."
The sight that greeted her barely past the first trees stopped her cold. She knew that slumped figure. She had called for it.
Forgetting the battle, her surroundings, even her annoyance, Cara rushed forward and dropped to her knees next to the girl, whose back was turned towards her, arms and legs sprawled before her body.
If I get the son of a bitch that knocked her out, I'm going to strip off every inch of his skin until I can pull out his veins single-handedly! she thought angrily, putting a gloved hand on Noa's shoulder. "I can't believe you got hit," Cara mumbled more to herself than to the unconscious kid, "you're quick enough to outrun a horse herd."
The Mord'Sith pulled the body around with the intention of carrying her back to the camp, as it was raining pitchforks. It was getting hard to see past a few meters.
But Cara was still able to clearly see the dead, lifeless eyes gazing unseen into the clouded heaven and the knife sticking out from where shoulder meet neck. Rain mingled with ruby red blood, slipping down the tanned skin and into the grassy soil, a fine-webbed river of lost life.
It was a throwing dagger.
She could never focus on ranged weapons without the Agiel, Cara remembered numbly, body frozen with shock, disbelief. The water grew cold on her skin, ragged breath slipping out between her open lips.
It couldn't be happening. Noa couldn't be dead. Noa was the very epitome of life, with her easily given smiles and joyful movements. Stilling the girl's heart was like robbing spring of its rebirth.
Cara could feel herself start to shake, from a spot deep inside her soul outward until her whole frame and fingertips trembled softly with speechless terror as she gently stroked a few dirty strands of hair away from Noa's cold forehead.
She can't just slip away like this. She can't leave me alone. Cara felt her chest burn and constrict until she was convinced her ribs would simply collapse into themselves. But then a sound forced its way out of throat.
A whimper.
A sob.
She can't leave me too.
The agony flaring up behind her breastbone was like that of an Agiel on naked skin, just deeper and more scarring, a pain that the leather rod could only ever achieve by being touched to a body not your own.
And for a moment the Mord'Sith was nine again, dirty and bruised, watching a young girl her age, a friend, being tortured to death just to show Cara what it meant to feel. What it meant to hurt. That there was no greater demise than the one given to compassion.
Cara died all over again when the lifeless girl's face changed to Noa's: Broken, empty. Dead.
"This isn't going to end like this," she growled despite her heaving chest, despite the tears that mingled with the rain running down her cheeks. Desperation flared up inside her. "They won't win. They can't."
Praying for the first time since she could remember - to the spirits, to the Creator, to anyone kind enough to listen to a broken woman - that the girl's windpipe was intact, she cradled the small corpse close to her body and carefully slipped the blade free. The sound of razor sharp metal against Noa's flesh made her want to shout and scream and rage until her voice grew hoarse.
For a second she was scared, terrified down to her very core, that her abilities would fail. That the time spent away from home had diminished them, or that the wild magic coursing through the land had twisted them beyond recognition.
The thought of spending the years on Darza alone was devastating. The thought of never seeing the two different colored eyes laugh again was worse.
Her breath hitched and she forced herself to inhale anyway, to gather every tiny fragment of her power in her lungs. What had once come with ease was a trial this time and not even her rigorous training as a Mord'Sith helped to keep away the despair.
Exhaling the almost burning warmth that had gathered in her freezing body, the misty, silver fog floated down into Noa's open mouth, pale, bloodless lips slack without life to animate them.
Cara held the girl tightly against her, chin touching the soaked hair of Noa's head. She prayed.
Breathe.
Please, breathe.
The tiny frame stayed cold. Cold, wet and limp. Cara pressed her lids close until everything was dark and empty, the only sound that of the rain drops pelting the ground and rustling the leaves above them. A quiet symphony of regret and grief.
Please.
"Mommy..?" a small, scratchy voice mewled disoriented.
Cara's gaze snapped down, watching a green and a blue eye blinking away tears and rain drops that had fallen from the older woman's chin. Noa's face was confused, the only feeling that of being safely held close to a familiar body that she couldn't place.
But she felt warm. Save. Protected.
Home.
"I'm here," Cara whispered quietly. She hid her features in the honey blonde hair, pulling Noa impossible close until the chains on her chest fell away and she could breathe freely and deeply again. The relief that chased away the pain in her soul was the warm and forgiving. "You're safe."
"I'm sorry." The tiny whisper was one of guilt. Humiliation. Afraid of having disappointed Cara once again.
"Shh." Leaning back so that Noa's frame rested on her legs, the older woman gently held a hand against the girl's head, directing it on her shoulder. "It's fine. Rest now." Words spoken with calm and firmness, giving the girl strength and the comprehension that everything was as it was supposed to be.
And it was all that a drained Noa could do. While the girl fell asleep nestled in the arms of the woman she cared most about in the world, Cara kept watch over her. Her limbs like a protective cage that held nothing in but kept the whole world safely outside, Cara herself a silent, unconquerable guardian in the middle of the quiet, rain-filled forest.
She was warm inside. No water, storm or ice would be able to to rip that away today.
We are our home now, my little fox. I think I can accept that.
_________________
A/N: I love the image of a protective Cara-mum <3 I hope the development from meeting Noa until now is reasonable. Four years can change a person a lot!
Author: Dark_Kurai
Pairing: Cara/Kahlan, touches of Cara/Dahlia
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Spoilers: Should be none, plays after 2x22.
Summary: Follow-up to A Tear, A Word, A Smile - When Zedd opens a magical portal to ease their travels after the victory against the Keeper, something goes wrong that forces Cara away from the Midlands for some time...
A/N: Aaaand the last year! It's too hot to babble and I'm kinda busy, so I'll just post and hurry on.
13.
The fourth year on Darza:
Occasionally, but not often, Cara would be reminded of her past. She was used to compartmentalization and a master at repression, so it was no wonder that over the years she took all her memories and pushed them into a small, imagined chest that she closed off and hid somewhere in the darkest corner of her consciousness. It was safer that way, less painful for her mind, as without doing this her being would've been ripped apart into little, lifeless pieces by homesickness long ago.
But sometimes when she touched her Agiels, if she was distracted, she grew reminiscent of Richard and the memory of her bond to the Lord Rahl. Ever so often while watching the pot simmering a picture of Zedd and his eating habit would come into her mind. After cleaning her leathers, she would recall times long gone with Dahlia. Yet the hardest thing to hide away was the image of intense blue eyes and the warm smile that lit them up like the rising dawn. The Mother Confessor was haunting her dreams even after everything else started to slip away gradually, becoming lost in the fog that Cara was conjuring up out of her own free will.
It will get better in time, she told herself, the hurt will lessen. You will grow used to this pain just like you did to every other kind. The hope that this would be the case kept her repression strong. Kept her from acknowledging that she had been left behind.
What helped was the companionship she had built up with Noa. It was like a soothing blend of how she worked with her Sisters and the friendship binding her as much to those she had traveled with as the Lord Rahl bond did. The two of them had a pleasant and unspoken 'Don't ask, don't tell' policy, didn't speak about meddlesome side business like feelings and things past, but, most importantly, there was no constant, annoying touching and hugging. The girl looked after Cara's hair with utmost care, but that was just like her Sisters would have done.
Well, maybe without the loud off-key whistling.
But Noa was no Mord'Sith. Although she could carry the agony educing leather rod by now around as easily as a cooking spoon, her constant movement, upbeat character and insolent mouth wouldn't have only driven the whole temple mad, but would've also insured that she spent more time counting tiles while hanging from the dungeon ceiling than out in the sun. Although, as much as she wanted to strangle the brat from time to time for doing reckless stunts like jumping into the water with a jolly scream when Cara was bathing or dancing around the fire while the Mord'Sith tried to sleep, it kept her from missing the helpless fools in the Midlands too much. The fact that they had left her here spoke volumes and she had the hardest time to try and not feel betrayed. She was just a tool, a weapon, why search for someone they could replace with another red-clad sister?
Cara didn't even realize how much she got used to taking care of the kid and being around her when she shot off the third farmer making a pass at her in the tavern she was selling the metallic goods at. Staying away for a few hours longer to indulge in such time-consuming actions like copulation seemed wasted and would only make her more nervous about Noa's well-being.
Was she a save distance away from the village? Had she broken her neck while exercising a completely useless flip? What if she grew sick? Or maybe she set herself on fire again, after figuring out a few weeks ago that playing with flames was fun. Having projected her concern about her Lord Rahl onto Noa, the shift from mere duty to affection had been subtle and gone over her head. Maybe she also had just turned her gaze the other way, simply refusing to deal with the fact that she cared.
Swinging herself into the saddle of her recently acquired new horse, which her trainee had insisted on calling Cujo, the Mord'Sith rode back out into the woods, ignoring the sad gaze the rejected young man sent after her.
Once she was a safe distance away, she slowed down and patted the horse's long golden neck. "Dumb farmboys and prudish housewives, nothing that's worth our status, huh, boy?"
Cujo nickered, throwing up his head in a gesture suggesting affirmation. When Noa had sworn that this would be the perfect mount for the older blonde, Cara had scoffed at first. But now, sitting atop the golden, white-flecked steed, she believed there would never be another one like him. Again she stroked her hand across the coarse, golden fur, then spurned him on.
After noon they would eat the rest of the deer that Cara had shot the day before, and the Mord'Sith was eager to reach the camp to fill her protesting stomach. Another good reason to hurry was the light start of a drizzle that poured out of the clouds.
Curse this weather! The wet leather is a pain to get dry again.
When Cujo stomped into their camp and came to rest next to the other three horses they traveled with, the other mounts neighed agitated and shuffled their hoofs on the ground. Confused at their reaction, Cara slid from the saddle, sending them a wondering look.
"I'm gone for a few hours and you already start behaving like I'm a stranger? Just see if you get an apple from me again."
But the horses didn't shy away from her, staying restless even when she laid a calming hand on their noses. Their distress was of other nature.
"Noa, did you feed them one of your strange herb mixes again? Because, I swear to the Creator, if they stay this skittish, the next time you can drink it down yourself..." Expecting a peeved answer, the Mord'Sith was surprised at the silence.
She peaked around the animal's bodies. "Noa?"
The camp was deserted.
Furrowing her brow, Cara stepped closer, looking for signs where the kid might have run off to. Her sleeping roll was still lying on the ground, thrown of in a hurry and now soaked from the steadily growing drizzle.
This was the point where Cara started to grow anxious. An internal alarm went of, every instinct screaming at her that something was wrong.
"Noa!" she shouted louder. No answer.
But it caused the Mord'Sith to focus and listen intently. And that was when she heard the shouting.
Propelling herself forward, Cara felt the pain of the Agiel race across her nerves and flesh before she realized that she had drawn it. Muddy dirt and pieces of the soil sprayed to all sides when her boots hit the earth, twigs and leaves slapping like whips against her leather, like tiny, vicious hands grabbing her, slowing her down, holding her back.
Nothing was able to deter the Mord'Sith from their goal. No crossbow's arrows, no deadly wound and certainly nothing irrelevant like dense forest.
There were prints in the mud, people had come through the underbrush and had run in the same direction. The angry shouts and sounds of scuffle were coming closer. The world around her turned to a blur, her legs burning from pushing forward even faster, until the green foliage around her grew light.
There were twelve, maybe more. In the fraction of a second Cara gathered all the information she needed: an open field with thrown up earth from the many feet stumbling back and forth, a group of grown men punching and hacking and raging, the lithe figure of Noa that blocked, evaded and dodged while her face was drawn with building exhaustion and fear.
"Kill the demon! She's getting tired!"
Without slowing down even a moment, Cara sprinted forward, using her speed to hit the jaw of the man closest to her with a force that broke bone like dry branches. It sent him reeling, unable to utter even a single sound before he slammed on the ground.
Still in her momentum, her Agiel found the side of another opponent. If the leather rod had been a dagger, it would've sunk in to the hilt, but this way the unfortunate victim was filled with enough pain to let loose an ear-shattering cry, alarming the others to her presence.
"The other one is back, quick!" someone prompted, causing two others to throw ropes in the hope to catch and immobilize her.
Catching the ridiculous attempt of subduing in her free hand with an angry growl, she janked hard, causing the two attackers to stumble in surprise at the Mord'Sith's strength. The muddy earth and relentless rain made it hard for untrained people to keep their footing.
Judging the state of the field, Noa had been protecting herself against her would-be killers for quite a while. Even yet the kid was jumping and tumbling around, harder to hit than a frantic bird. Although she had been unable - or unwilling? - to counter their attacks, the villagers hadn't fared much better.
It made Cara proud to see her student fight so well, but the feeling was blanketed by the stronger current of battle lust and loathing that had her in their grip.
"You'll pay for this, you cowardly bastards," she hissed between her teeth at a horrified man, who found his end on his knees by her Agiel. Seeing him go down, the other ones split up between her and Noa with angry howls.
"This is for Rorsh!" one screamed and tried to hit her with a shovel and all his power, but she merely grabbed the incoming wooden part right under the shovel blade with an unimpressed sneer, catapulting the handle back into his face with a flick of her arm. Blood sprayed, the nose cracking like thick paper. The man stumbled back with a yell.
"You brought Rorsh onto yourself, so stop wailing!" Sending a kick to her rear end, Cara planted her foot deeply into an enemy's gut, satisfaction filling her at his painful retch. Spirits, this felt good! She hadn't realized how much she missed delivering agony until now. And the rightful anger filling her about these scumbags trying to execute her trainee once again drove her forth without stopping to catch her breath.
The Agiel sung its symphony of anguish and in the middle of her fight she found the other one that Noa had discarded on the ground after her teacher had entered the scuffle. A short glance to the right showed her the girl still evading blows, a foreign and serious look of concentration on her young face. From time to time Noa used the annoyed attacker's whole frames for her stunts, pushing herself from shoulders and swinging around arms and legs with swift skill.
"Keep them warm for me!" Cara threw over at her, a mad grin stretching across her face while dealing with two villagers at once. She played with them, like a cat pushing around her doomed prey with a curled paw. And they knew that they were helpless against this deadly predator, but desperation and the feeling of mad revenge kept them coming.
They all fell with their last image being that of a mercilessly grinning Mord'Sith. It would haunt them even in a world far beyond this one.
They're tough, she had to admit that. The ones she didn't manage to kill or knock out stood up after a short while, intend on fighting to their last breath. Every D'Haran soldier in her home-world should have been half as persistent as these farmers, but if that had been the case, the journey to bring the Stone of Tears to its destined place would've been even more demanding.
Maybe it was better if this display of perseverance stayed in Darza.
Forcing her foot down on her opponent's upper leg, it was the slippery ground that saved his limb from being broken by the hit. Instead he lost his footing and crashed to the ground, the back of her heel knocking him out for good.
Cara ducked, slashed and dropped another one. The next time she let herself be hit from the side, she caught the offending wrist between her arms. A twist, a snap. The man screamed, drawing back his broken arm, then grew silent when she back-handed him harshly with her Agiel.
No mercy.
Not even the D'Harans and Sisters of the Dark had been so brutally wrecked by the Mord'Sith, her hand forced into giving compassion and quick deaths to her enemies near the looming, good-hearted presence of her traveling companions.
But right here, right now, there were no borders, rules or civility that could keep her blood-thirsty beast of sadism contained. Without the gentle leash she was breathing dread.
Three more man lay on the ground, groaning and sobbing in pain, just as unable to die as they were to move. Pulling the feet out from under the last opponent that stood, she left her weapon to dangle dangerously from her wrist and near his skin, while her free hand snatched his throat to keep him upright, but with both feet scrambling on the mud beneath his soles.
"I will leave the rest of you alive, mangled and hurting, so that you finally understand that you can't win against us. And if you or anyone else comes near us one more damn time, what happened to you today or back in Rorsh will be a gentle prodding compared to what I will do then, understood?"
As if unable to decide if to spit in her face or pee his pants, the thinly bearded man, most likely just a few years older than Cara, trembled speechlessly in her grip, nearly choking on the tight hold she kept on his neck. In the end she simply pushed the Agiel into his temple until his eyes rolled back and he collapsed with a gurgle.
"Spineless scum," she spat, kicking the unconscious hard enough into the ribs to leave a bruise. Still feeling the adrenalin of the battle dance through her flesh, she took a few, deep breaths to settle her center.
Until she could feel a certain amount of calm envelop her insides again. Pulling away the by now wet blond hair that clung to her neck, Cara looked around, the long strands now draped nearly along the whole length of her back.
"It's fine, Noa!" she called over her shoulder, her gaze wandering across the ground, littered with bodys both dead and alive. "Let's go back, so that I can teach you a few things about actually using the weapons I leave for your protection," she added dryly, looking with distaste at the dried mud sticking to the second leather rod.
Turning around slowly, her eyes swept across the edge of the treeline. Where was the brat? In the middle of the fight she had seen the girl slipping through her enemy's arms with ease, but the men around her had all come to engage Cara sooner or later.
This is not a game. If she uses her hiding trick, she'll get an earful from me.
Stepping towards the end of the field, not minding the groaning frames she kicked while walking, she let out a weary huff. Not needed anymore, the weapons went back into their holster. Her leathers were drenched by now and stuck to her skin. Great, just what I needed.
"Get over here, you foolish, little-..."
The sight that greeted her barely past the first trees stopped her cold. She knew that slumped figure. She had called for it.
Forgetting the battle, her surroundings, even her annoyance, Cara rushed forward and dropped to her knees next to the girl, whose back was turned towards her, arms and legs sprawled before her body.
If I get the son of a bitch that knocked her out, I'm going to strip off every inch of his skin until I can pull out his veins single-handedly! she thought angrily, putting a gloved hand on Noa's shoulder. "I can't believe you got hit," Cara mumbled more to herself than to the unconscious kid, "you're quick enough to outrun a horse herd."
The Mord'Sith pulled the body around with the intention of carrying her back to the camp, as it was raining pitchforks. It was getting hard to see past a few meters.
But Cara was still able to clearly see the dead, lifeless eyes gazing unseen into the clouded heaven and the knife sticking out from where shoulder meet neck. Rain mingled with ruby red blood, slipping down the tanned skin and into the grassy soil, a fine-webbed river of lost life.
It was a throwing dagger.
She could never focus on ranged weapons without the Agiel, Cara remembered numbly, body frozen with shock, disbelief. The water grew cold on her skin, ragged breath slipping out between her open lips.
It couldn't be happening. Noa couldn't be dead. Noa was the very epitome of life, with her easily given smiles and joyful movements. Stilling the girl's heart was like robbing spring of its rebirth.
Cara could feel herself start to shake, from a spot deep inside her soul outward until her whole frame and fingertips trembled softly with speechless terror as she gently stroked a few dirty strands of hair away from Noa's cold forehead.
She can't just slip away like this. She can't leave me alone. Cara felt her chest burn and constrict until she was convinced her ribs would simply collapse into themselves. But then a sound forced its way out of throat.
A whimper.
A sob.
She can't leave me too.
The agony flaring up behind her breastbone was like that of an Agiel on naked skin, just deeper and more scarring, a pain that the leather rod could only ever achieve by being touched to a body not your own.
And for a moment the Mord'Sith was nine again, dirty and bruised, watching a young girl her age, a friend, being tortured to death just to show Cara what it meant to feel. What it meant to hurt. That there was no greater demise than the one given to compassion.
Cara died all over again when the lifeless girl's face changed to Noa's: Broken, empty. Dead.
"This isn't going to end like this," she growled despite her heaving chest, despite the tears that mingled with the rain running down her cheeks. Desperation flared up inside her. "They won't win. They can't."
Praying for the first time since she could remember - to the spirits, to the Creator, to anyone kind enough to listen to a broken woman - that the girl's windpipe was intact, she cradled the small corpse close to her body and carefully slipped the blade free. The sound of razor sharp metal against Noa's flesh made her want to shout and scream and rage until her voice grew hoarse.
For a second she was scared, terrified down to her very core, that her abilities would fail. That the time spent away from home had diminished them, or that the wild magic coursing through the land had twisted them beyond recognition.
The thought of spending the years on Darza alone was devastating. The thought of never seeing the two different colored eyes laugh again was worse.
Her breath hitched and she forced herself to inhale anyway, to gather every tiny fragment of her power in her lungs. What had once come with ease was a trial this time and not even her rigorous training as a Mord'Sith helped to keep away the despair.
Exhaling the almost burning warmth that had gathered in her freezing body, the misty, silver fog floated down into Noa's open mouth, pale, bloodless lips slack without life to animate them.
Cara held the girl tightly against her, chin touching the soaked hair of Noa's head. She prayed.
Breathe.
Please, breathe.
The tiny frame stayed cold. Cold, wet and limp. Cara pressed her lids close until everything was dark and empty, the only sound that of the rain drops pelting the ground and rustling the leaves above them. A quiet symphony of regret and grief.
Please.
"Mommy..?" a small, scratchy voice mewled disoriented.
Cara's gaze snapped down, watching a green and a blue eye blinking away tears and rain drops that had fallen from the older woman's chin. Noa's face was confused, the only feeling that of being safely held close to a familiar body that she couldn't place.
But she felt warm. Save. Protected.
Home.
"I'm here," Cara whispered quietly. She hid her features in the honey blonde hair, pulling Noa impossible close until the chains on her chest fell away and she could breathe freely and deeply again. The relief that chased away the pain in her soul was the warm and forgiving. "You're safe."
"I'm sorry." The tiny whisper was one of guilt. Humiliation. Afraid of having disappointed Cara once again.
"Shh." Leaning back so that Noa's frame rested on her legs, the older woman gently held a hand against the girl's head, directing it on her shoulder. "It's fine. Rest now." Words spoken with calm and firmness, giving the girl strength and the comprehension that everything was as it was supposed to be.
And it was all that a drained Noa could do. While the girl fell asleep nestled in the arms of the woman she cared most about in the world, Cara kept watch over her. Her limbs like a protective cage that held nothing in but kept the whole world safely outside, Cara herself a silent, unconquerable guardian in the middle of the quiet, rain-filled forest.
She was warm inside. No water, storm or ice would be able to to rip that away today.
We are our home now, my little fox. I think I can accept that.
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A/N: I love the image of a protective Cara-mum <3 I hope the development from meeting Noa until now is reasonable. Four years can change a person a lot!