Jasper headed back down the long temple corridor with a steady but unhurried stride, not wanting to draw any unnecessary attention to himself. Although these stupid clothes are doing it for me. Despite his best efforts, heads craned as he passed, staring at the unfamiliar noble wearing royal colors, and he promised himself that next time he would find something different to wear.
Still, he succeeded in his plan well enough until he reached the courtyard of the temple.
The courtyard was an absolutely massive affair, a bit like a Roman arena if they had been built as squares. A pillared colonnade ran along three of the four sides, providing a welcome relief from the searing heat of the midday sun, while along the back wall rose an impressive faced that led into the central sanctuary of the temple, a three-storied hall where a larger-than-life statue of Nahrēmah held court.
The courtyard was filled with a thick layer of dark, grey-colored sand that brought back memories of trips to Maine. With the morning exercise now done, the majority of the space was now occupied by a group of servants with long, spindly rakes who were smoothing its surface. But a few of the instructors and cult members were still hanging out on the far side of the courtyard, and one of them begin to move in his direction as soon as Jasper stepped into view.
Picking up his pace, he and Annatta skirted around the edges of the arena, staying in the pleasant shade of the colonnade, but his attempt to avoid the instructor was all for naught. With movements so quick that Jasper suspected she was using some sort of skill to aid her, the Djinn suddenly appeared in front of them.
“My lord, perhaps you were too busy to intend the mandatory morning exercise, but surely you don’t intend to sneak out of here without so much as a friendly duel?” Her voice was low, the husky voice of a woman who’s smoked one too many cigarettes and chased them down with more than a few shots of liquor - not that Jasper had seen any evidence of cigarettes in Corsythia. That was one vice, at least, they didn’t possess. But there was still something about her that was immediately arresting.
Her skin was a dark red, not the wine-colored tint of the royal house, but a muddied, brownish-red that reminded him of dried blood, and her eyes were as black as the void itself. The two horns sprouting from her head stood straight up, rather than curling, suggesting to Jasper that she belonged to some tribe he was unfamiliar with. She was neither beautiful nor ugly, but she radiated an almost irresistible charm nonetheless. It was a quality he had encountered once before.
Back in college, Jasper had known a girl who had always reminded him of a fierce lioness. It was hard to pin down exactly why - in all likelihood, his impression of her was driven by nothing more than the woman's unusual combination of cheekbones so sharp they could cut through stones, eyes that burned with unspoken passion, and the constant nervous energy in her wirey frame. But all logical explanations aside, Jasper had never quite been able to shake the feeling that she was a predator shackled in human form, a lioness trapped in human skin who viewed the world through the calculating eyes of a huntress. If one day, she had transformed in front of his eyes and hunted down a pudgy fratboy like a wounded gazelle, he would have barely blinked in surprise. The girl hadn't exactly been beautiful, but there was a dangerous allure to her that had always drawn him in.
The Djinn standing before him gave him that same sense of fascinating danger. Her body was tense, coiled like a leopard waiting to pounce, and her eyes watched him like a hawk, but there was no hint of fear - or respect - in her.
“Uh, I was just leaving-“ The instructor grinned lazily as Jasper stalled for time, suddenly feeling for all the world like he was a mouse trapped by a playful cat. A small crowd had gathered around them, many of them wearing the olive-colored garments of the instructors. On a few, he could see the excitement of an expected fight, but on many faces, he just saw scorn. They think I'm going to turn it down.
She ignored him, continuing blithely on. “Will you do me the honor, my lord, of fighting a duel with me?”
With a sinking heart, he realized couldn’t say no. If he intended to continue investigating Kas̆dael’s quest, he couldn't garner a reputation as a cowardly noble who was afraid to fight, and if he didn’t continue the investigation... A shudder ran down his spine as Jasper remembered Kas̆dael’s plan B. I do not want to be offered up as a sacrifice. I’ll just have to play along and hope this woman isn’t trying to kill me.
Pasting on a smile, he offered the barest hint of a bow in her direction. “Of course - after all, is that not why we’re all here? What would a visit to the temple be without a fight to rouse the blood and, of course, honor the goddess.” The surprised looks and nods of satisfaction from the small group of onlookers told him he had made the right decision. But Kas̆dael better appreciate the hell out of this, he thought to himself.
Following her out into the sands, he ignored the furious pounding of his heart as he studied his opponent. A pair of daggers swayed at her hips, their wavy blades resembling that of a kris, but she also bore a large battle-axe that appeared almost comically oversized in comparison to the relatively petite Djinn.
They separated in the middle of the courtyard, walking a few paces away before turning to face each other.
“Any rules?” Jasper asked hopefully. Please say no weapons, please say no weapons!
She arched a lazy eyebrow. “You are a mage, aren’t you, my lord?”
“Yeah,” he nodded slowly.
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She grinned. “Feel free to use your magic, any of it. It will make the fight more interesting. In fact,” she reached behind her back and unclipped the axe. With a slight shrug of her shoulders, she launched the massive weapon halfway across the courtyard where it landed in a cloud of sand, “I won’t use that either.”
Oh crap, I got a bad feeling about this.
“One, two-“ A loud bell rang, drowning out the last word. Jasper never even saw her move. One minute the Djinn was standing twenty feet away from him, the next he was flying through the air. She was already waiting for him when he landed, and her dagger slid beneath his chin, grazing the skin just lightly enough to release a faint trickle of blood that painted the sand.
“Come now, my lord, I’m sure you can do better than that.” His challenger chuckled throatily.
The spell was off his fingers even as she spoke. Fiery Shackles. Burning claws sprung up from the sand, clamping around her as he thrust himself backward, away from the blade and into her body with every ounce of strength he could summon. A loud pop echoed in the courtyard as he rolled head over heels across her, landing on his knees in the sand. A quick glance up confirmed what he expected to see - her leg, held in place by the spell, had been snapped badly enough that a sharp, jagged piece of bone stuck through the skin, glinting in the sun. So she’s fast but fragile. Maybe I can do this.
But his hopes flagged a moment later. Unperturbed by her injury, the Djinn casually swiped one of her daggers through the claws that bound her, and his spell fell apart. Reaching down, she grabbed hold of her leg and yanked the bone back into position. The skin closed up as soon as the bone disappeared and the Djinn showed no sign of injury as she took another step closer to him. Damn.
“Better, but still not good enough,” she smirked.
Seraph’s Burst. He didn’t wait for her to make a move before casting the spell. In a blur of fire and wings, he shot across the arena, Arutu’s shortsword gripped tight in his hands. But he had forgotten how fast she was.
Her movement was so fast she was barely visible, as the Djinn simply stepped out of his way, waving at him with a mocking smile while he shot past her. He landed harmlessly in the sand beyond, the spell pulling him into its usual tight whirlwind of razor-sharp feathers, but they diced up nothing but air. Another spell was already on the tips of his fingers before the Seraph’s Burst ended, but he didn’t get a chance to cast it as she descended upon him.
As soon as the spell-forged wings disappeared, her foot landed squarely in his back with enough force to make Superman jealous. Jasper was sent flying through the air again, his progress only halted when he collided face-first with one of the colonnade’s pillars. His nose crumpled, and his head rang from the force of the blow. He was tossed back into the sand, landing hard. He struggled to breathe, dark spots swimming across his vision, but he somehow forced himself to stand, his legs shaking like jelly. Is she trying to kill me?
His opponent was already standing beside him. Leaning against a nearby pillar, she waited idly as he struggled to his feet, twirling her twin daggers through her fingers with the ease granted by many years of practice.
He swayed on his feet, pretending to be dizzier than he felt as he summoned another spell. Scourge of Despair. His play-acting must have deceived her, as the spectral whip reached her before she could blur her away. It lashed across her face, drawing an angry, bloody welt, and with it, three hungry ghosts.
The watching crowd backed away as the wailing specters descended on her, and Jasper took the brief moment of respite to down a healing potion, rejoicing as the buzzing in his doubtless concussed brain faded into silence. But while he may have taken her by surprise, the Djinn was more than up to the task of facing the specters. Her double krises lashed out in a fury of blows, blocking the angry claws of the specters, and while the daggers did not immediately banish the ghosts, as it had his fiery shackles, the specters faded a little with each blow they took until they were banished, dissolving well before the timer ran out.
With a flip of her hair, she turned back to face himself. Jasper expected her to be angry - few appreciated having their faces scarred - but the wound on her face had already healed up and the look in her eyes bore more amusement than wrath. She blurred forward again, bridging the gap between them in the space of a heartbeat, and rested her dagger against his throat.
“I assume you’ll grant me the victory, my lord? Unless you have something else up your sleeve?”
Jasper nodded mutely. He wasn’t out of spells, but he was out of spells that wouldn’t endanger the bystanders or, in the case of Purge, run the risk of outright killing her.
She released him, though her daggers nicked the skin of his throat again as she removed them from his mouth - and Jasper knew she was far too skilled for that to be anything other than intentional. But the Djinn smiled broadly, patting his shoulder enthusiastically. “I hope you won’t be a stranger to our little community,” she murmured. “I’m sure we can teach you a thing or two.”
He nodded mutely. Yeah, “teaching.” That’s totally what was happening here, but he kept his gripes to himself.
With the show over the small crowd dissipated as Jasper and Annatta headed towards the temple’s exit. As they walked, Jasper could feel the Djinn warrior’s watchful gaze burning a hole in his back, but he didn’t turn to look. It was only when they had left the temple, that he dared to stop.
“Are you alright?” Annatta asked.
Jasper shrugged, rubbing at the faint scabs of blood-forming along his neck. “I’ll live. It was more humiliating than anything else.”
His guard frowned, starting to speak, but stopped as something caught her eye. “Turn around.”
Bemused, he followed her instructions, frowning as she drew a small slip of paper from beneath his tunic. “Where did that come from?”
“Where did you think?” She replied wryly. “Look.” She held out the piece of paper to him. There was nothing written on it, save for two small symbols in the upper right corner. One was a pair of scythes bound together by a skull, the other a paw print of an animal. Jasper was no wildlife expert, but if he had to guess, it was a wolf. Barbartu?
His gaze snapped back to the temple, half-expecting to see her watching from the top of the stairs, but there was no one there except for the guards, who oversaw the crowds with obvious boredom.
Stuffing the paper into his pocket, he turned to Dapplegrim, heaving himself up into the saddle - a feat of strength these days, given her colossal size. “We should go. Now,” he snapped, and Annatta sprang into action. A moment later they were clattering out of the temple’s plaza.