JOLNOCHAYA
The spear came without warning, cutting through the air like a whistle. Jol barely moved in time, cocking his head to the side as it whistled past, close enough to graze a strand of his dark hair.
Bada's fine, he thought to himself, though the words were hollow. He wanted to believe it, but his mind wouldn't settle. There were too many loose threads—too many things that could go wrong. Bada, out there somewhere, fighting her own battles. El Ritch, probably lost or worse.
He stood amidst the snow, his breaths visible in the cold air. "Are you just going to keep hiding like a coward, or are you planning to come out at all?"
The taunt was weak. Jol knew it even as the words left his lips. But pride had a way of turning the clever into fools, and fools were easy prey.
She emerged, her movements deliberate, her posture rigid with confidence. A woman clad in tight leather, her face obscured by a pot-like helm with a narrow slit for her eyes. Her spear was the first thing Jol noticed—its shaft was polished wood, intricately carved with glowing runes. The black tip gleamed even in the dim light, a weapon made to kill. The spear was all wood.
"Even if I'm out, you're still too weak to defeat me," she mocked, her voice muffled but clear enough to carry the weight of disdain.
Jol tilted his head, smiling like the idiot he often pretended to be.
The spear came first.
She hurled it with precision, the weapon singing through the air. Jol ducked, feeling the faint ripple of air as it passed over him. It embedded itself into the ground behind him with a dull thunk...or so he thought.
"See?" Her voice came from nowhere.
Jol's eyes widened as she disappeared from view, only to reappear behind him in an instant. How?
"Goodbye," she said, her tone flat but resolute.
The spear's tip drove toward his back, but Jol snapped his fingers.
In a flash, their positions reversed. She now stood where he had been, her spear aimed at empty air. Jol's fist swung toward her, aiming to end this farce, but she rolled back with practiced ease, evading him.
They stared at each other across the snow, both frowning.
What just happened? is what went through both of their mind.
The thought was mirrored in their expressions.
Jol flexed his fingers, his muscles tensed like coiled springs. She had caught him off guard, but something about her movements... they weren't natural.
Her eyes behind the slit of her helm narrowed. She gripped her spear tightly, the faint glow of the runes intensifying for a moment.
She was there, and then she wasn't. Jol's mind raced, piecing together what he saw.
Teleportation? No.
If she could teleport, she wouldn't bother with the theatrics of throwing a spear. This wasn't her inherent ability—this was the spear's doing, the spear could make her teleport akin to his position swapping. The glowing runes and its polished wood confirmed as much-he theorized.
I'll just have to draw it out.
The woman tilted her head slightly, her expression hidden by the pot-like helmet, but Jol could sense her hesitation.
"You can swap positions," she said, her tone steady but tinged with curiosity.
"And you can... teleport?" Jol feigned ignorance, though he already knew the truth. Teleportation would have been seamless and absolute, unlike the subtle distortion her movements left behind.
"No." She twirled the spear, the runes along its shaft glowing faintly. "I just move faster than you can blink." She wasn't, because there would be footsteps in such soft snow, even if she was as light as a feather.
She was lying. Jol could tell by the way her fingers tightened around the weapon, her stance subtly defensive. But proving it would take time.
Her spear pointed at him again, the black tip gleaming like an ominous star.
Jol smirked, his fingers twitching in anticipation.
"Let's see how fast you really are."
The spear came flying once more, and Jol snapped his fingers with a mana coated snow ball.
Their places swapped instantly, the snow ball melting in mid-air.
This time, he didn't aim for her. He went for the spear.
His hand closed around the shaft, and for a fleeting moment, he thought he had it. But his smirk faltered as he realized she was still holding it.
Her hands gripped the other end of the spear tightly. They were locked in a silent struggle, the glowing runes flickering faintly between them.
That flicker told him everything...or rather he understood the truth and her lie.
"The spear is the beast, isn't it?" Jol asked, his grin returning. "A chameleon." The runes weren't 'flickering', they were the body of the chameleon shifting and the light playing against the rough scales of it's body.
Her audible gasp betrayed her.
She kicked him squarely in the chest, sending him stumbling backward. The spear tore free from his grip as she flipped through the air, landing in a low crouch.
"You're a goddamn faker," she snarled.
Jol chuckled, silently thanking Misti for the reputation she'd crafted for him. Let them believe he was a dullard; it made moments like this far more entertaining and advantageous.
"A little bit," Jol admitted, shrugging with exaggerated nonchalance.
The spear began to shift now, its form twisting and reshaping in her hands.
"Well, since you've figured it out, no point in hiding him."
The chameleon revealed itself, its shape solidifying into a thin longsword. The surface still looked like wood, but Jol knew better than to underestimate it.
They squared off again, the snow crunching beneath their stances.
But before either could make a move, the snow erupted violently around them.
Two figures burst from beneath the surface—Bada and another enemy wielding a shortsword.
BADAGUINBIR
"Are you alright?!" Jol exclaimed, worry etched across his face as he looked her over. Bada stood tall, brushing off the snow that clung to her, her twin blades glinting faintly in the dim light. They had fought their way through the chaos of the avalanche, only to end up back in the thick of it with Jol.
"I am," she replied coolly, her tone betraying none of the relief she felt seeing him unharmed. "And you?"
"Could be better with a kiss," Jol said, his eyebrows wiggling in a way that was both infuriating and ridiculous.
Bada shook her head, suppressing a smile. She was happy he was alright, but she'd die before letting him see that.
Across from them, the pot-helm woman and the man with the shortsword bickered like children.
"So," Pot-helm woman turned her gaze to the pair, sizing them up. "What's the deal with her? She strong? She has to be strong, right? Since you couldn't finish her." The man with the shortsword smacked her helmet lightly with the hilt of his blade.
"Stop asking questions. What about you? Couldn't hold down a weaponless man?"
She retaliated by yanking on his coat, pulling it over his face, and giving him a playful whack on the chest. "You're one to talk, fool!"
Bada kept her focus, her eyes darting between them, reading every movement.
"That woman's beast," Jol began, pointing at the pot-helm woman, "is a chameleon. It's her weapon. She can use it to change forms, like turning into different weapons. She can go invisible too—"
Jol paused as the pot-helm woman's attention snapped to him. Even with her face obscured, the intensity of her gaze was palpable.
"That man can swap places with people," she informed her ally in retort, her tone sharp and alert. "And he's a good liar. Beware."
Jol shrugged, unfazed by the interruption. "—and she can probably leave illusions behind, like her act of throwing spears. The trick is, she never lets go of her weapon. That's the key."
The man with the shortsword tilted his head, frowning.
"I don't understand the woman."
His companion turned to him, her body language exuding exasperation.
Bada studied the pot-helm woman closely. Her movements were calculated, but the dynamic between her and the man with the shortsword was erratic, children bickering. Jol leaned toward her. "The man's just absurdly strong, like you," she muttered.
"Well—" Jol snapped his fingers mid-sentence, swapping himself with the pot-helm woman in an instant.
The woman stumbled, caught off guard as Jol reappeared behind the man with the shortsword, throwing a punch aimed for his jaw. But the man blocked it effortlessly with his elbow, as if he had been expecting the attack.
Simultaneously, Bada moved in. Her twin blades flashed in the pale light as she charged the pot-helm woman.
The woman reacted quickly or rather her blade reacted quickly, her chameleon long sword shifting into something fluid and serpentine—a whip-like weapon that coiled around Bada's blades, locking them in place.
"You have my gratitude," the pot-helm woman said, her voice laced with a strange reverence as she addressed her weapon.
Bada grimaced, twisting her wrists to keep control of her blades. The whip tightened, and she could feel the subtle pull of its strength.
Bada gritted her teeth, pulling back her arms and testing the tension in the whip. Clever little beast, she thought grimly. But clever wouldn't save them for long.
"I'll keep her busy," Bada called out to Jol. "Handle the brute!"
"What the hell-" The snow broke again breaking Jol's words and they fell down again, discovering El Ritch's body, whether dead or not unknown, and beside him a mangled body.
A creature was feeding on it.