Magic Storm

When magic exploded on the horizon, Grak lost all dignity and stealth. He hiked his robes up around his waist and took off. He went faster than he remembered being capable. Fear lent speed to his feet, knobby green knees showing in the cool Autumn air. The warrior's scream somehow wrung more speed from his out-of-shape body. Air sawed in and out of his lungs like sand-paper, but Kaj's scream did not stop. As he drew closer, the whirling, mixed magic brought tears to his eyes. It became harder and harder to see.

But he didn't need his eyes when he could follow that pain-filled scream so easily.

He had to pull up short when the magic storm threatened to scrape his skin from his bones.

He could only wait.

Yet waiting patiently wasn't really in Grak's nature. He summoned a tendril of his own magic and extended it toward the maelstrom, sought to understand it and why it produced that dreadful scream of pain from such a strong warrior. Beads of sweat broke out on his brow as he struggled to keep his touch gentle as not to be scorched by the angry magic.

Grak attempted to "taste" the different elements. The colors were a clue for the origin of the magic, and he understood the green to be shamanic, from the living things around them. But the red and black were unfamiliar.

As his tendril sank deeper into the storm, Grak's horror grew. He tasted blood and hatred and the single-minded drive for vengeance. He sat down hard, knees no longer properly working. He couldn't even yet tell what the magic was doing.

He just knew that much hate couldn't be for anything good. He detected two human lives in the midst of the howling magic, one that was definitely his warrior, the other fading fast as he poured his own life force, hatred, and drive into Kaj'ik. Grak struggled to understand the things before his eyes.

Before he could truly grasp it, the storm blew away.

The two humans dropped to the ground. Kaj could not longer scream, her throat raw and unable to produce much sound. She struggled to her side to stare at the other human, an old man. She gasped for air, struggled to speak. "What- why?"

The old man cackled in what sounded disturbingly like glee. "You escaped the destruction of our people, traitor. You escaped it and did not enact vengeance. Maybe if you had, we wouldn't be here today. Maybe I wouldn't be bent like an old man, perhaps I might have been able to father a real child. But we'll never know, will we, coward? Instead of the mother of your people, you will be the mother of revenge." His crackling voice faded with his strength.

Kaj screamed again, the tortured sound that left her ruined throat would haunt Grak for all his years. He dove to her side, magic encompassing his hands as he tried to find the source of her pain. His eyes widened in horror as her armor creaked, giving way before a slowly swelling abdomen.

The old man cackled again, but the sound died away as he took his last breaths.