The Wind And The Rain

[Sister Siroc]

(Written in Collaboration with Scorpio)

By the time Siroc had returned to her campsite, Preet had left.

No doubt to get an earful about how I'm not to be trusted, she thought, her muzzle turned down in a dour expression.

But work needed to be done nonetheless, and so Siroc went about breaking camp: her and Preet's few belongings tossed into rough sacks and out of the tent, tentpoles kicked aside, and the whole structure rolled into a manageable bundle. She secured it with a stout rope and tossed it and their bags over a shoulder. Then, she began to trudge back to the main camp.

"Ma'am!" A voice called from above, breaking her out of her sulk. She glanced up to see a tiny beast with a bright red cloth about its neck swoop down next to her --  a cactus wren with the marking of a messenger.

"Hmm?" She replied.

"Got orders from Kango, ma'am. You're to report back to him right away." The bird gave a little salute and began to take back off.

"He say why?" Siroc called after it. It looked back and gave a shake of its beak before continuing on, undoubtedly to its next task.

Siroc groaned, and picked up the pace.

Just a little, though. The Chainbreaker deserved to wait for jerking her back and forth like a toy on a string.

---

Their belongings left safe with a guard, Siroc ducked back into the main tent.

"'bout time," muttered Preet, "we sent f'r you near an hour ago."

"Then next time you can carry the tent," Siroc shot back, flicking her paw under her chin at the bird.

"Enough! We have a problem." Kango's voice boomed across his dwelling, silencing the bickering pair. "In the dunes just north of camp, we caught sight of a gila."

"Was it a scout for one of their fringe units? A deserter, maybe? We didn't wipe all of--"

"Worse than all that," Preet interrupted. Oh, so she is already filled in, I see. "We think it's one we been after f'r some time."

Kango held out a slip of paper. Siroc looked at the notes scribbled on it.

"Scorpio... an interpreter? Weren't the old gila interpreters non-combatants? Some code against violence or something?"

Kango snorted. Preet echoed it.

"Fat lot of good it did Sandstone," he replied. A paw idly scratched at the tabletop. "Or Millie. Or Anther. Or Eloise."

Siroc's muzzle pulled into a flat line. "He's taken out four of ours already? How?"

"Best we can guess traps of some kind. Mudslides, quicksand. One account said he called down a flood?"

"Nonsense."

One brow shot up on the jackalope's face. "Is it? Do you know how the interpreters work?"

"It's all," Siroc waved a paw vaguely, "book learning, isn't it? Reading the heavens, the soil. All those books they use."

"There's more in this world than found in their knowledge, Siroc. Think of the beastmasters. It's almost... unnatural. Is it so far-fetched to think this skin-shedder can control the weather?"

Siroc took a deep breath, the scent of some rich, roasted fruit lingering in the air; the stink hot, near beasts, of course; and-

Ah, there it is. Fear.

"You think he's behind the drought."

"Sister, if there's any chance that he is..."

"Then you can save the south without having to move everyone."

Kango moved around to the head of the table and sat down, running his eyes over the map laid out over it. He looked over it once before finally nodding. "Yes. I need to make sure - I need you to -"

"Kill him."

"Yes," he replied, "and I need you to do it alone."

Well, that's unexpected. Siroc's brows shot up.

"Preet won't be with me?" She asked.

"No. We think a single beast will be the best - well. It wasn't the best way before, but you're different, right? After the Zephyrites." The corners of his mouth turned up just a little as he twisted the verbal dagger. "No one can doubt you have a talent for subterfuge."

Siroc blinked once, long. The air inside my body is the same as the air outside it. She kept the sandstorm bottled inside.

"No," she replied, "but a building full of priestesses is a tad more trusting than a mastermind softegg like him."

"Then you'll just have to get creative, won't you?"

---

A slight wind was blowing over the dunes that afternoon, and the midday sun was mottled by a line of clouds. Any other season they may have promised rain, but these seasons were full of broken promises.

Still, Siroc was glad to be away from the thrum of beasts, the press of bodies, the politics and worries of Kango's court. The desert didn't care about any beast, and there was some comfort there, in knowing that the land itself tore at everyone in equal measure, killer and innocent alike.

The prairie dog paused just before the top of a dune and moved to a kneeling position. She breathed deep, steeling herself like she had done for the past four dunes. She inched forward, and peered down.

A rocky outcropping, with an inky stain of a cave, lay at the bottom.

Siroc squinted at the opening, her eyes scanning over -

"Oh, you have to be joking."

She stood with a groan, and began her descent into the beast's lair.

There in the damp darkness she found the gila. Lying upside down on a magpie's hill of trinkets and oddbobs, he filled the meager cavern with a gentle snoring. Yellow scales were patterned into claws, clouds, raindrops, waves and, true to his name, a scorpion's stinger. There was no doubt this was her target.

Siroc drew her knife and passed through the entrance clearly marked 'Scorpio's Lair'.

She had barely stepped one footpaw forwards when the reptile's eyes snapped open. Instinctively, she hid the knife in her sleeve. A moment passed in silence as each stared at the other.

And then Scorpio spoke in a voice made larger by the cavern. "Greeeeeetings!" This was followed by a great deal of clattering as the gila righted himself, his collection of items sent sprawling and flying in every direction. "Judging by your outfit you are one of those Zephyrites! Did a gust of wind blow you over, or have you come to seek your fortune?"

Siroc's eyes ran over the ill-gotten pile, narrowing as she picked out certain items - books and charts, weapons clearly used by her fallen Ring members - monstrous proof of the gila's crimes. Still, she kept her face as expressionless as she could. "I am a seeker of sorts, yes."

"A seeker indeed!" Scorpio slid to his feet with serpentine grace. "But the Zephyrites are dead, their place of worship reduced to ashes... or so I heard- did you know it is very hard to find out about these things when living under a rock?- But I did see this awfully large fire the other night and such terrible amounts of smoke too. And of course, I saw what was left of the bodies. The ones that weren't completely devoured by the flames anyways." The Interpreter fished out a pair of minute spectacles from the cloak he wore and carefully balanced them on his snout. "So. 'Of sorts'." He scowled. "I take it I wasn't good enough for the likes of Kango?"

"Apparently not." Dropping all pretenses, Siroc let the knife slide back out into the open.

Scorpio glanced at it, apparently unconcerned, and harrumphed. "The nerve of that hare." He kicked at a stray pebble as if offended by its very presence. "I come all this way, bring all these precious heirlooms, put my name on the cave and he doesn't even have the decency to show up!" The gila deflated with a hiss. "Say what you want about me, I was there every time I ruined a life."

"Laughing the whole time the way I heard it."

The gila allowed himself a small smile and shrugged. "Yes well, things get a bit dull without a giggle here and there. But where are my manners! Here you are, come to my lair and I haven't even offered you a drink!" Turning away from the prairie dog, he dug into his victim's belongings and withdrew a goblet and a half-full waterbag.

"Unfortunately for all parties involved I don't have nearly enough to drown you," he sighed, pouring the liquid into the goblet and holding it out for her.

When Siroc made no move to accept it, he added in a long-suffering voice. "And equally unfortunately, poisoning you isn't something I'm allowed to do deliberately." His mood brightened as he studied the contents of the goblet. "I am, however, allowed to do this!" Without further warning Scorpio flung the goblet at her.

Siroc ducked as it hurtled towards her. Cackling with glee, Scorpio made a mad dash past her and towards the entrance of the cave. She lunged to intercept him, her knife piercing the waterbag as he scuttled past.

"You really should know better than to let your guard down," the Lord of Rain mocked, kicking up a small cloud of sand as he made his getaway.

"It wasn't down," Siroc grumbled, flicking the dismal sack off her blade. One paw quickly pulled her skirts up and about her waist, pulling them into a tight knot. She broke into a run after him, her veils whipping behind her like the tail of a comet.

"Of course not." He suddenly turned and pointed at the ground in front of her. "And that isn't quicksand."

Instead of taking the bait, Siroc closed the gap between them and slashed at his face, obliterating his spectacles. Scorpio caught her by the wrist but Siroc merely slipped out of her bangles and thrust forwards. The gila sidestepped the blade and threw the bangle at her. Unflinching, Siroc continued her assault, the blade singing through the air between them. Scorpio ducked, dove, dipped, dodged as each blow grew closer.

He also talked. The reptile never stopped talking.

"Oh the poor worshippers of the wind. Did you feel bad for them?"

Hack, dodge, slash, dodge, thrust, dodge.

"I did when I heard about what happened. Truly dreadful to be betrayed by somebeast you trusted and sheltered."

Slash, dodge, hack, dodge, thrust, dodge.

"Even worse when you did nothing wrong. Oh yes, they helped my kind when they had to. Yes, I knew them all quite well. But surely you of all beasts must know that an ant has no say in the wars of greater beasts."

Siroc focused on the blade, trying her best to tune him out.

"And to be burnt alive as well! What a terrible way to go. Much more violent than drowning. Although... I suppose suffocation (or is it asphyxiation?) is the cause of death in both cases."

"No! That's a-"

"Still!" the gila interrupted, continuing to back away. "I'm curious, as a beast that has tasted one," he pointed at her scarred face. "But not the other," he jabbed his claw back at himself. "Would you have a preference?"

He came to a halt.

"But I can already guess for you, can't I? Live by the flame, die by the flame and flames shall follow you wherever you go."

Siroc lunged. Scorpio stepped out of the way. And the sand turned to water and gave way beneath him. The gila fell with what could only be described as a slow splash.

"Ironic," he mused, apparently unbothered by being waist-deep in the ground. "It appears I have stepped into quicksand. Oh woe is me, life's too short, tell Kango he can burn... You're not buying it, are you?" Scorpio sighed. "Yet another wasted enterprise. Do you have any idea how hard it was to make this look real?"

Siroc took a step forward and grabbed the base of the gila's neck. "No, and feel free to not tell me."

He grinned. "Would you think less of me if I were to, in a moment of desperation, spit on you?"

Before Siroc could reply, he spat in her face. Limbs flailing, she reeled backwards, pawing at the viscous fluid. Her back slammed against the rock wall, hard, and she felt it quiver like a living being.

"Mind the loose rocks!" He called back, climbing out of the fake pit and scuttling away with a cackle.

She did her best to scamper forward, away from the wall, but she could feel the ground quaking in the coarse sand just before a chunk of the cave wall caught her in the back, dropping her to a crawl.

At the far doorway Scorpio paused, before adding, "Oh, and don't worry I'd have to bite you for that to be properly poisonous, you rube!"

A nigh-feral hiss burst forth from the ringbeast. This was nothing. Pain bloomed across her back, but it was a perennial pain, the flesh there long used to blows across it. Her paws beat the ground as she moved from a four-pawed scramble to a sprint directly at her foe.

"Oh, bu-"

He was blessedly silenced by her entire weight thrown at his gut, driving the air from his lungs, and both beasts to the ground. She crawled onto his chest, pinning the larger beast by the shoulders. She gave a single shake, causing his head to snap back into the ground and a squawk to force its way out of his maw.

"Ack! Stop! Okay! You got me!"

She drove a blow into the side of his head, bringing another protest.

"Ahh! Skin of my mother, stop! I surrender!"

"Fight back!" She snarled, hitting him again.

"Stop! Stop! I can't!"

"Burn your code, you little snipe!" She punctuated each sentence with another blow. "Fight! Back!"

She stopped.

Scorpio's jaw was set tight; a small dribble of blood worked its way from a split on the side of it. The flesh was already raising, swelling, rebelling at its treatment at the prairie dog's fists.

Heaving a sigh, she slipped off of the other beast, onto the sandy grit of the cave's floor. She sucked deep breaths of the dry air, ignoring her lungs' protest at the abuse and exertion of the chase.

"Why?"

He sneered, dripping blood and contempt. "You warmbloods are all the same. I have principles, and nothing left besides them."

"Heh," she chuckled once, as hollow at the room they were in. "Fine, then."

She drew a small knife, barely long a paw. "Talk. Te-"

"Talk? Gladly? I feel we've touched on all the important topics, so how about something a little lighter? Absolutely lovely weather we're having, eh? Of course, if you have fur instead of scales then it's probabl- yowch!"

She jabbed the point into his elbow.

"Rude! No wonder you couldn't keep friends at the abb- yagh!"

She jabbed the point into his shoulder.

"Shall I go higher?"

"You said talk!"

"Fine. Let's talk about the weather, O Lord of Rain." Her eyes narrowed. "Word is, the drought is your doing. That true?"

He gave the widest, most sincere grin he could muster. "Ah. So that's why Kango sent you. His Grand High Whatnot of the Clans fears my power."

She waved the dagger at him again, pointedly.

"Say it is because of me. A curse on the filthy warmbloods who murdered my people. Destroyed our places of learning. Set alight our libraries and sacred places. What then, you kill me and break the curse?"

"Something like that," she said, giving a little shrug. "He wasn't specific, but I like a little creative freedom."

"Oooo, or will that mean the curse persists, you think? You keep me alive, rotting in some cell until I agree to lift it."

She chuckled again. "I think the former option's a little more final."

He went silent for a moment, eyes flicking back and forth, and a flash of realization hit Siroc.

"No... no. Look at you. You're powerless."

"Powerless!" He found his voice at her comment. "The Lord of Rain, the Bringer of Floods, powerless! I-"

The blade pressed against the side of his neck, interrupting him. "No real traps in this lair of yours, I see. No cleverly concealed pitfalls."

"Well, if we'd gone further, I-"

"No burst of floodwater."

"It would be a little inconvenient to-"

"No," she said, "this is the sad, little bluff of a beast with nothing left."

His lips pulled tight, into a grimace. "So what now, Sister."

That word again! Siroc berated herself for rising to his bait.

"Now..." Her voice trailed off. She thought of Kango's words, his worries about their land. She thought of the smoldering ruin she drank over a scant few nights ago. She thought of her best friend, her partner, reporting her every action back to Kango, doubting her - not that she hadn't earned it.

"This land is sick. Is a sickness."

"What?" Scorpio's brow knit in confusion at the nonsensical statement.

"Now, I let you go."

"What!?" Clearly it was a banner day for nonsense.

Siroc exhaled hard, finally feeling the pains in her back as she forced the breath out. She rose to her paws and pulled the lizard up with her. "I said. I let you go."

"Yes, I heard that. I'm very grateful. You're a paragon of mercy. Why?"

"This place - this land - is Hellgates' waiting room. And I need to make sure we never come back to it again.'' She sheathed the small blade and set about picking over the rubble as she continued for the still-stunned Scorpio. "If Kango thinks there's a reason to return, he will. The Clans' lands are too important to too many beasts... and this place is a constant reminder of his greatest achievement."

"A room full of sand and rocks is his greatest achievement?" Scorpio said with a giggle, feeling his old banter coming back already. "That's sad."

Siroc pulled a face at the comment. "Ugh, you really are insufferable."

"You still haven't answered me. Why let me go, then."

"You said it yourself," she replied. "The greatest, most powerful, most elusive of the gila has laid a curse on the southlands. And four - well five, now - of Kango's best beasts couldn't stop him. What hope do normal beasts have against a force of nature like that?"

Scorpio broke into a wide, crooked grin. "Why... Siroc of the Zephyrites. No wonder those poor sisters didn't stand a chance with you. Conning the King himself!"

She found her blade and leveled it at him once more, her face stony. "Keep their names off your tongue, skin-shedder."

"All right, all right!" He raised his claws diplomatically. "Let's say I let you go-"

She interrupted with a snort.

"Let's say I let you go," he repeated, "then what? I gain back a wasteland for myself? A lone hermit with no people, no empire, nothing but sun-blasted, rain-starved wasteland as far as the eye can see?"

"You get your life. Endless fame as a bogeyman for all warmbloods..." she tapped the blade's tip against her cheek as she thought for a moment. "Time to practice a new, more-intimidating speech for your next prey?"

"Just answer me one more thing, Sister. Why do you want to do this? Think if you can run as far as the Great Forest you'll put that bloody, charred past behind you?"

"No," she sheathed her blade, rearranged her skirts and veils, and made her way back to the room's entrance. "But a little distance might do us all some good."

"Give Kango my best!" Scorpio called out, his smugness thicker than the fake quicksand in the room's center.

Siroc's only reply was a rude gesture.