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Kwan met the young lord over a field of flame, dashing through the wreckage that’d once been thriving towns. Bodies of humans, demons and spirits lay strewn among the debris.
“What happened?” demanded Kwan.
The young lord, armored and tiring, furrowed his brow and tensed his jaw. “It’s Borsi.”
“Borsi?” Kwan cast his greater sight, piercing through the destruction to find the Kurai.
The pig-headed warrior held his halberd high, with each maneuver, fire leapt from the metal. He squealed out a blood curdling war-cry, rallying his clan warriors.
“I can’t explain it,” said the young lord. “One day he was fine, stopping for a visit before heading out to pay homage to the Cat Clan. The next day, he went berserk!”
Kwan released his spell. “I don’t think he made it to that Cat Clan. This is fox magic. It’s got him in a blind rage.”
“Fox?” gasped the lord. “Are you sure? This far away?”
“I can feel it,” said Kwan. Without another word, he took off, sword drawn.
The young lord stayed close, joining the charge. “What do we do?”
“There’s only one thing we can do.”
Boar warriors made to intercept, struck down by the pair. A distraction. Allowing the shadows of the fox clan to spring up. Kwan cut them from hitting the young lord, taking the brunt of attacks aimed for him.
“Kwan!”
“Don’t let your guard down! Stay vigilant!”
The young lord obeyed, battling back boar warriors and fox shadows.
Again, Kwan used his magic to sift out where the fox Kurai were hiding, finding them with ease. He launched, sword in both hands. When they realized he headed their way, it was too late. He’d jumped into the middle of them, bringing down one and narrowly missing another. One of his quarry took a chance, slashing at his back with their claws. Kwan cried out, quickly recovering his stance and bringing his sword around to kill.
They tried to attack as one, harrying and chancing their luck. What a fine prize he’d make. Kwan could see the very thought in their eyes. He attacked with more ferocity, taking one, then another and another. He was bloodied, but victorious.
The battle wasn’t over.
Panting, he ran to aid the young lord, intercepting a strike from Borsi that would’ve killed him. Kwan put all his strength to throw aside the attack.
Borsi was powerful, and had been a valued ally for over a hundred years. Now, he acted as an enemy.
Kwan roared out, calling lightning to his blade and swinging to unleash its fury. Borsi withstood it. The young lord charge in next, thrusting his palm forward to send wind like a hurricane. Borsi struggled against it, using his sheer strength to keep his feet planted and stay balanced. Kwan issued a quick chant, calling a bursting bolt of lightning from the heavens.
Borsi cried out, falling to his knees.
Kwan charge in, sword ready, riding on the wind of the young lord. Borsi parried with his own weapon, refusing defeat.
“Borsi,” cried Kwan. “You have to fight her! Whatever she’s put into your mind, fight it! We’re friends, Borsi. You served as general to my father’s army. Remember!”
Borsi said nothing, leering at Kwan with pure malice in his eyes, empty eyes, as he pushed back in a great show of strength.
Kwan retreated ground, holding his sword in a defensive stance. “I can’t get through to him.”
The young lord became aghast. His hands tightened on his sword hilt, jaw set. “Let me try.”
“No—”
“If anyone can get through, it’ll be me! We’ve fought side by side for forty years. Please!”
Kwan paused, giving a quick look between Borsi and the young lord. Then, he nodded.
The lord rushed in, Kwan breaking away to harry and distract. Borsi, however, didn’t take the bait, staying fixed on his quarry. The halberd swung. The young lord blocked. Borsi kicked at his ankle, putting his foe off balance. Kwan cast a spell, threads of white wrapped fast onto the halberd, bringing it to a halt mid swing. Borsi’s gaze followed the threads, and cast a spell of his own. His weapon flew at Kwan, and his fists freely swung at his opponent.
Kwan leapt out of the way, an uncalculated move in the short second he had to act. He stepped among bodies, a splintered bone sticking into his calf. He grunted his pain, sucking in air between clenched teeth. Forceful, he reclaimed his leg. He placed weight on it, feeling the searing pain shoot upwards through him. Wincing, he pushed through, rushing back to aid the young lord.
Fox Kurai came running in, acting separately from their queen and taking the risk for an attack. Kwan stood firm, parrying and countering to maintain distance. Surrounded, he changed his stance, straightening himself and holding his sword upright. A single word of a spell as they charged in. A bolt struck down on him, splitting to lash out at the surrounding foes. Free of them, and his sword sparking with held power, he resumed his charge.
The young lord scooted away, face bloody, hand searching for anything to defend himself with.
Kwan leapt, bringing his sword down.
Borsi turned, his halberd returning to its master’s call to intercept. He held off the tip of Kwan’s blade, needing his full attention and strength to keep it at bay as the Juneun pressed down on him.
Then, sudden release.
The young lord’s sword plunged deep into Borsi’s back.
Enraged, Borsi roared out his war-cry, fire expelling from him. Hot enough to force a retreat of ground from his foes, and he didn’t yield. He swung his halberd in a wide circle.
Kwan pushed the young lord out of range, taking a cut across his stomach. Falling back, he knelt on one knee, his leg giving way with the new pain surging through him. He breathed in heavy gulps. From his peripheral, he spotted something ominous.
The shadow of a familiar foe crawling forward in the distance. A wide, glistening grin of sharp teeth.
With no other choice, he unlocked his primordial power. His roar shook the air, and his vision went dark.
****
A lucid moment came to him. The flames burning away, and the young lord, bloodied, in prayer. Kwan aimed himself south, for home. If he could just get there, seal himself until he was no longer a danger to anyone—
Darkness.
He regained a moment of himself, amid the bones of an animal, the meat nearly stripped off completely. Again, he pressed to get to his shelter. He tried not to think about the circumstance of the lucid moment, praying he’d not crossed paths with anyone, human or spirit, to cause harm.
Darkness.
The smell of a fox spirit. He felt himself in a rage. He’d made it home, though it didn’t bring the peace he’d hoped. A weight to one arm. Then the other. On his chest and neck. He wouldn’t be a danger. For now.
Darkness.
The incents and smell of wine clouded his senses. Mixed in was an unusual scent, earthy and wet. It was faint, but it was there. And a sound. Not the chants to spellbind him or the clamor of shouts. Not the clanging of chains or the sharp cut of a blade through the air. A soft sound. A voice.
His sight remained blurred, requiring him to focus it. The prisoner girl. No. Couldn’t she see he wasn’t himself? The fear compelled a jolt to run through his body, and attempt to get free. Still, she stood there, speaking softly to him.
His sights went in and out, lucidity gained and lost. But she remained, speaking gently about idle things. Things that had nothing to do with their current state. She sat unafraid, a partial smile on her face. Sliding back into the darkness, the rawness of his emotions simmered into something more manageable.
In the late hours of the night, he remembered himself whole. He lifted his heavy eyelids, the chain falling from his teeth. She was still sitting there, curled up and asleep. In that moment, he thought of their every interaction before now.
A strange thing.
A gentle thing.
She could have banged on the door and cried out for release. And if no one answered, he wouldn’t blame her weeping. Staying hidden would’ve been the most optimal choice.
Always, she presented as such a meek creature. And tonight, she braved his company.
He looked her over in her tattered clothing and bare feet. It was only then that he recalled that detail of her initial story. Her sandals had torn in her race up the mountain. She loved her brother that much.
Meanwhile, he didn’t know if he’d caused the death of his own brother. He couldn’t recall any action taken once he succumbed to that power.
This human girl had compassion. Not the usual envy and greed he’d known in the courts. Compassion. Enough to give to the most helpless of creatures when she had nothing of her own. And he didn’t even know her name. It didn’t seem important before. She was a prisoner girl who would wait the five years owed, and that was all.
No. He couldn’t treat her like that. She’d freeze in her first winter. She’d done a kindness to him. He didn’t expect to remember himself until dawn at the earliest. Now, he owed her a debt. Whether or not she knew it.