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Legends
Book One: Casting the Crown
Chapter Four
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Clouds of fine red sand swirled all around, springing up in a dusty ballad as it caught the bitter wings of the wind and filtered out most of the midday sun.
Zefira brushed thin strands of brown hair off her face, her feline nose twitching as she narrowed enchanting blue eyes against the rhythmic assault, silently cursing the gods for this dry, most unfortunate tempest.
That is, if there were any gods at all to put to this blame.
Given her current situation, she highly doubted it.
Baring her teeth against the billowing squall, she took a calculated step forward, tightening her grip on the twin daggers in each hand—effective though they were, she hardly required their assistance. She only wielded them now to add more flare to the show.
The smallest of smirks twitched at the corners of her lips as a sudden gust of parched wind and scorched sand forced her head to lower against the onslaught.
A show.
That was all this desolate, miserable situation was to them. A situation that she was forced to be in, no less.
'A situation you landed yourself in,' she scolded herself, cynical smirk shriveling up into a fervent scowl. Another unexpected wail arose from the storm, stinging at Zefira's eyes and burning her chapped lips as hot sand exploded in her face. A string of curses flew off her tongue as she licked her lips and spat the bitter, gritty taste out on the ground. 'You should have stayed away from here.'
Lifting her gaze slightly, Zefira took a quick moment to gather her bearings, reminding herself with a grimace where exactly she was. They called this desert hellhole the arena—a place she had grown to know quite intimately during her "stay" over the years. 'It serves more as a prison for the damned.' A smooth, low rumble quivered from the depths of her throat, and she spat out another mouthful of grit as if it were venom. 'Humans.'
Without warning, a deep growl, barely audible above the merciless howl of the wind, reached her sensitive ears and stopped her in her tracks; this form of greeting was all but familiar to her. Straightening her stance, she licked her lips in anticipation, tongue grazing the jagged point of her fangs as her bushy tail wrapped itself absently around her left thigh.
So, the challenge was declared.
Sand whirled all around, limiting Zefira's field of vision and heightening what little senses she could still use in this storm.
The dare sounded again, low and menacing in pitch, and Zefira whipped around, spinning in blind circles as the snarl evaporated into the wind only to whisper in her ear again from a different direction.
'I can't see a damn thing in this storm!' She hissed as a second rumble caught her ear and she snapped her head in the opposite direction, only to be met with hot air and whirling sand.
Her anger began to boil as a deafening howl broke through her senses, the malicious cry piercing her ears and scraping against her mind like nails being raked across a stone.
No, this was far more than a simple challenge.
Circling her like a predator sizing up its prey, hiding behind torrents of sand that rendered her senses useless, Zefira felt her chest tighten and the hairs on the back of her neck prickle as realization slowly dawned on her.
She was being toyed with.
Zefira blinked away the sand and narrowed her eyes, grasping the daggers so tight that her claws bit into the flesh of her palms and her bony knuckles turned white from the pressure. She hated being toyed with!
"Bloody coward," she huffed, struggling to keep her rage in check. She dared not to let herself slip into a blinded fury—not that she would welcome such a fall, even if circumstances were more favorable. 'Not again,' she thought, her grip on the daggers loosening somewhat as she felt the fury ebbing away. 'Never again.'
Shaking her head, Zefira craned her neck to one side, listening for any more daunting threats her opponent dared to toss her way. Only the chilling whoosh! of the gusting wind whispered in her ear, tickling the fine hairs and sending unwelcomed shivers down her spine.
'Stop that!' She commanded, berating herself for allowing such a moment of weakness, no matter how small the gesture. But her unease with this sudden silence was like a tight ball in her gut, growing steadily bigger as it rolled its way through her, spreading its poison and drawing even the hairs on her tail to stand at full alert.
Turning her head to the left, Zefira gave a soft snort as she willed her nerves to calm. Then, throwing her armored shoulders back and jutting her chin upwards, she issued a challenge of her own.
"Come on!" She growled, eyes scanning the sandy horizon for even the slightest sign of movement.
When the only sound to meet her cry was the malicious howl of the wind, she reached across with her right arm and slapped the flat of the dagger's blade against her leather chest piece, demanding that her challenge be heard.
"Why don't you come out and face m—"
Crack!
She jerked forward, eyes bulging wide with shock as her usable senses blurred and she fell to her padded knees.
A sneak attack!
The stunning blow had come from behind, whacking her hard in the back of the head with such force that blackness clouded her vision and her furred ears began to ring violently.
'Foolish girl!' She snapped, pressing a hand to the tender wound forming beneath her hair and berating herself for allowing such slipshod form. As the darkness receded and the ringing slowly subsided, she shook her head and felt the ground around her for the daggers she had dropped, another string of curses gracing her lips.
She saw the booted foot swing around from the corner of her eye a second before it slammed into her exposed midsection with extraordinary strength.
Gnashing her teeth, she rolled with the blow, landing hard on her back as the wind left her lungs in a rush and pain wracked her entire body. The biting breeze tickled her arms and legs as she cradled her throbbing stomach, almost certain that one of her ribs had cracked from the attack. Fine grains of sand sliced at her bare skin like red-hot pokers, but she dared not cry out.
The tempest howled once more, tousling her loose hair as Zefira rolled herself to her knees. Dragging her fingers through the sand as she moved, they brushed over the familiar warmth of tightly-bound leather, half buried in the sand.
A small smile graced her dry lips at this find; such a simple motion split the cracked skin and drew a little blood, tiny grains of red dust embedding themselves into her open sores as strands of hair clumped like a greasy veil before her eyes.
The barrage of wind and sand stung at her face as she grasped the haft of her fallen dagger and staggered carefully to her feet. Her breaths came in broken gasps as she fought to keep her vision from blacking out again and her aching stomach from convulsing into agonizing spasms.
Even with the flurry of red sand blinding her to all but her immediate surroundings, Zefira never dropped her guard. She would not dare to again.
A soft cackle graced her ears, taunting her, willing her to step into the storm, but Zefira ignored the jeers and forced down the anger that bubbled beneath her surface. She would not lose control again!
"Thrashing blindly into this godforsaken storm will do you no good," she affirmed, the vocal remark taking her mind away from the growing rage as she balanced the light weapon in one hand, adopting a sturdy—if somewhat shaky—fighting stance. Though she was no seasoned warrior, she had been in her own fair share of steel-tipped brawls long enough to know when to fight on the offensive and when it was time to stand her ground. 'You aren't that foolish.'
A faint twinge in her lip stole her attention, and the vague scent of blood, nearly obscured by the windblown sand that assailed her nostrils and prickled her skin, caught her nose.
Curious, but keeping her wits about her and maintaining an alert state, she reached up with two fingers and pressed gingerly against the thin skin. Almost immediately she withdrew her hand. "Gods be damned!" She hissed, the swift action causing her fragile lips to split even more.
Fresh droplets of blood trickled down her chin, and she instinctively raised her hand, eyes widening in both fear and anticipation as her heart began to quicken its pace.
Blood.
The scent was overwhelming now.
Fine granules of sand clung to the warm, sticky red liquid, but she ignored the bitter sting.
Blood..
Her attackers, both the booted foot of her opponent and the wailing tempest, were momentarily forgotten. She heard nothing apart from the furious beating of her own heart, and could smell nothing—nothing, that is, except the blood.
It was everywhere. She smelt it in her hair, on her hand, on her lips, her chin, her cracked armor, her dagger, the sand, the wind, the air!
The blood reminded her of the fury burning within her, licking at the back of her throat and spreading through her veins like wildfire. And oh, did it ever feel good!
Zefira looked down at her quivering hand, at the two sand-coated fingers slicked with her blood, and she suddenly felt herself tearing apart.
Blood...
Pulse pounding, temples throbbing, the blood in her body rushing fervently through her veins, Zefira felt the familiar pull on her mind as something inside of her stirred.
She felt her own thoughts and feelings wither like a dying flower into the shadows, the smell of blood mixing with the heated anticipation of battle to drive back her conscious mind as it coaxed forth an essence of the most primeval kind. Something inside of her was struggling to awaken.
"No," she whispered, her voice shaking as she fought to keep from slipping back into the dark abyss of her unconscious mind. "No!"
Her eyes burned with a red-hot fury, and she knew they were changing. Her entire being, both body and mind, was changing, and she fought to stop this transformation from happening.
Blood!
The pain from resisting the separation was excruciating, but it only fueled the rage held within this other presence—within herself—even more.
"I must...fight...this!" She exclaimed, clutching at the sides of her pulsating head in agony. The dagger fell from her grasp, landing in the sand next to her with a soft thu!. "I won't gi—give in to you!"
A dark voice, low at first, whispered inside her head, taunting her as it groped her conscious mind with greedy fingers, caressing the rage that burned beneath her skin. 'You cannot fight me, Zefira. You will not fight me!'
"I can!" Despite the desperate plea that trembled in her voice, she was determined to stay in control, to keep from submitting to the fury that threatened to take over. "I can! I don't need you, I never needed you!"
'You're wrong, Zefira,' the voice cooed, and she could feel its sinister grin spreading across the recesses of her mind. 'Oh, are you ever so wrong.'
She felt iron claws wrap themselves around her essence, digging furiously into her mind, and let loose a strangled scream, falling weakly to her knees.
'Look at you, child. You're exhausted!'
She was. She was so very, very exhausted...
Her bruised stomach gave a painful rumble, reminding her of the food she had been neglected for the past three days, and her leather-clad shoulders sagged with fatigue. Maybe if she just took a short nap, shut herself down for awhile...
'Let me help you, Zefira. I can ease your pain!'
"Never!" Her whole body resonated with pain, and she yanked at strands of her hair, gritting her teeth as the blood rushed through her veins like water flowing through a rapid current.
'This is what they want! What I want, what you want! You want to please us, don't you?'
"I don't care about...about them, or about you. I don't want this!"
'Oh, but you do,' the voice cooed again, the sinister grin enveloping every inch of her mind. 'Have a taste, child. Feel my power course through your veins.'
Panting heavily, palms pressed flat against the red sand, she slowly licked her lips, savoring the dried blood that had caked over the cracks, and felt the strong tug at the back of her mind again.
The taste of the blood was intoxicating. It fueled the fury, filling her every being and making her hunger for more.
Her stomach heaved and her body convulsed. She felt her eyes burning holes in their sockets again, a pleasurable pain this time.
'Give me control, and I will give you more.'
Zefira inhaled deeply, the scent of the thick red liquid filling her nostrils as the pulsing of the blood in her veins echoed in her ears. Looking down, she could see them in her arms, intertwining beneath the skin like thin purple spider webs.
'I can satisfy your needs, Zefira. I can ease your anger, sate your hunger, numb your pain!'
She felt the familiarity of renewed strength coursing through those veins, replenishing her vigor and fueling her bloodthirsty desires.
Her bloodthirsty desires?
Nostrils flared, eyes wide as she felt herself sinking even farther into the blackness, Zefira shook her head in feeble protest. "No, no! This...this isn't me. Not...me..."
'Submit to me!'
Defeated, Zefira's shaking arms caved and she slumped forward, giving in to the temptation and allowing this bestial side to take over. The coarse sand grated against her cheek like sandpaper as she closed her brilliant blue eyes, allowing a single tear to glide gently down her cheek before losing herself completely.
Another low rumble murmured in her ear, its challenge carried through the dust storm on the wings of the gusting wind.
Zefira's eyes snapped open, and a bloody grin spread over her split lips. Pushing herself up with new-found strength, she grabbed her weapon by the hilt and slowly rose to her feet. As she tightened her clawed grip on the dagger, she licked gleaming white fangs and let loose a snarl of her own, blood-red eyes glistening furiously in the scattered sunlight.
The hunt was on.
