A direct attack against the compound was not likely to succeed: Not only was it painfully (and loudly) obvious that the place was being invaded, but she only had her three remaining vials, her butterfly swords, and a lot of anger. And Kinn was unavailable--having been Invoked so recently, she would have to remain in Theopolis for some time before being capable of returning, to say nothing of how much damage she'd sustained. Healing took time, as much in the Place of the Gods as in the place of death that Jarah called Gallhin.
Her mind raced as she sprinted toward the ruined side of the compound. To Tenhaim's credit, the wall that she and Tranast had knocked down already had a makeshift protection on it and the rubble had been cleared away. Cursing her blood for the ill luck, she paused and considered her options while trying to get her breath back. The planks of wood that covered the opening were put in solidly, not moving at all when she gave them a testing pull. Gritting her teeth, she felt about on her belt for whatever might come in handy. Little presented itself. She looked at the three vials--she could have sworn she'd had more, but maybe her memory was hazy--and rubbed the tokens on top, identifying the available gods on each one by feel alone. The Goddess of Apprehension might be an option, but the God of Admiration certainly wouldn't. And Anylla, the Goddess of Serenity was as useless to her as a rotten apple. Wanting to scream but knowing it pointless, Jarah started a jog about the compound, looking for a way in. In the distance, she could hear the screams of gods as they battled; she was wasting time. Moving along, one hand dragging on the wall, she at last found what looked like a sturdy enough crack in the brickwork that she could get a toehold. Hauling herself up quickly, forcing her tired limbs to move despite her own exhaustion. Once, the grip crumbled beneath her fingers, but not enough to send her down. Soon she was beneath the sloped awning of the roof. It took another few minutes for her to finally get to the top. Scouting out a potential path, all while remaining low so as to remain out of sight of the scrambling and terrified thugs in Tenhaim's employ, Jarah paused to catch her breath. She was almost there… A teeth-rattling crash broke over her as the wall--in the same section where she had broken through with Tranast--caved in beneath the forms of the dueling gods. "Well, now there's an opening," she said under her breath. Orgos had broken through with Vellit on top of him, leaving a smoldering hole in the compound's wall. The gods grappled but slowly, their ichor surging out of deep wounds. Tenhaim and Rihn were pushing the gods toward death--neither seemed willing to concede. The gods, as a result, moved lethargically, biting, punching, or otherwise battling though more like two fighters at the end of their stamina than fresh ones. Jarah wanted to watch, but the distraction was too good--Tenhaim's people scrambled, abandoning weapons, bumping into each other, and all searching out some form of shelter. Easing herself off the lip of the roof, Jarah alighted on an open windowsill and slid into the compound itself. The easy part completed, she set out for Kimhan. The girl was likely in the most secure place, which, according to the map that Honu had given her--or, more particularly, Rihn had provided and Honu had passed along--was beneath Tenhaim's quarters. From what she could tell, she needed to head to her right, as well as descend. A difficult proposition. She stood in an armory now, with only the moonlight giving her any help. Prowling forward, she passed rows of weapons--some of which she recognized by their shadowy shapes, others were foreign to her--until she arrived at the doorway. The sound of running people made it difficult to know if it were safe to leave. Peeking her head around the corner, she saw--much to her relief--that not only was the coast clear, but illuminated, too. Sconces of torchlight threw flickering shadows on the walls, allowing her to navigate the halls--of this section, at least--without much effort. She had to move quickly, yet the quieter she was, the better chance she had of making it to Kimhan. The tension made her grit her teeth and wish there were a God of Frustration into whom she could pour her emotion. Then again, if there were, Jarah would never have to stretch far into her emotional memory to Invoke him and she'd be pulling him from Theopolis on a regular basis. For that imaginary god's sake, she was glad he didn't exist. The hall floors were a dark hardwood, while yellow plaster coated the walls. Ornate pillars made of ochrewood punctuated the distance, while sliding doors opened into the sundry rooms she passed. Wall-scrolls interspersed the sconces. The entire place screamed an opulence that felt obscene after the end of the world. Jarah found her way to the ground floor without difficulty, taking the broad staircase that led down by following a straight line. The fact that the compound was an enormous square made it easy for her to feel confident in choosing a path--eventually, she'd find the place. The biggest concern was if she'd find the place in time. Jogging lightly on her feet, she skittered past a couple of running guards, hid just before being spotted by another set, and made it a point to avoid the exit to the inner courtyard, where the now-curious fighters gathered to watch the theopolemic resolve itself. For some time, Jarah had worried that she would have to do something drastic or terribly clever to get to Kimhan. She needn't have bothered; it was clear where the girl was, because the fighters who stood guard were staring resolutely at her when she arrived at the stairwell. "I'm looking for someone," she said, gripping a butterfly sword in her left hand and a vial in her right. "And I think you're in my way." She tried to make her words sound sincere and deadly, but the honest truth was, she didn't know what she was going to do against seven well-armed guards, none of whom looked like the type who were interested in abandoning their post because of one woman, even if she were a teka. "We were told to take you alive," said the closest man, a large fellow with a scar that shot down over his milky white eye. "You killed Master's brother, though. He was my friend." "Oh no," said Jarah softly enough that only she heard it. "So you'll be alive," said the man, putting out a hand to his fellow guards, gesturing for them to stand down. "But only in the most technical of senses." Jarah clicked the token, seeking the right emotion. Panic would be a good one, but there was no Goddess of Panic, either. That feeling faded when Scar reached up and brandished his arm. "You have nice muscles," she observed, her mouth dry. She took a gentle step to one side, not sure of what else to do. Scar grinned, then slammed his fist into his bicep. Confusion turned into dismay as Jarah realized he'd just injected ichor into his arm. "That was going to be my trick," she said as she took a hesitant step backward. Scar's veins blackened beneath his coppery skin. Dark rings formed around his eyes and his teeth turned black. With a guttural cry he lurched forward, far faster than a human had a right to move. Jarah dodged away from the attack more out of luck and instinct than any skill on her part. She landed hard on her side, both sword and vial skittering away in opposite directions. A movement from the corner of her eye made her thrash away, rolling free from a vicious punch that cracked the floor where Scar's fist landed. Using the momentum of the roll to pop onto her feet, Jarah whipped out her second sword. It wasn't enough against an Infused. That Tenhaim could employ a teka capable of Infusing ichor was, perhaps, the greatest testament to the man's power and money. What Tenhaim used for Scar's inspiration Jarah could never know, but she did understand that she was going to die--and soon--if she didn't think of something. Unfortunately for her, there wasn't anything that sprang to mind. She slashed forward, but the blade sparked against Scar's armor without doing much besides make some noise. She caught a glimpse of the smirks on the faces of Scar's fellow guards. Her best bet was to Invoke a deity, of course, and that would probably change their posture of scorn. However, at this particular moment, she was too desperately fighting for her life to be able to think of the right goddess or god to make a difference. A blur that proved to be a fist caught her in the side. Her light armor cracked--her ribs screamed but held--and all the air in her body flew out of her mouth with a spray of spit. Jarah crashed against the wall, the second sword likewise dropping from her nerveless fingers. The distinct crunching sound--and an accompanying hiss as the ichor ate into the sole of Scar's boot--let her know what he had done to her dropped vial. She only had two left, but her mind was still empty. She needed divine intervention and had no way of Invoking it. His joints creaking, Scar towered over her. Dark rivulets of sweat coursed down his tightly-muscled forearms. His ruined eye almost glowed with an unnatural light. A feral grin of his black teeth stretched across his face. "This ought to be fun," he said, fingers clawed and anxious. Then his chest burst outward, blood, bone, and armor spraying out from a suddenly-appearing hole. Ichor-laced blood boiled as it splattered on the wall behind Jarah and as it ate tiny holes through some of her clothes. Scar stumbled, then fell to his side, his face slowly losing its dark undertones as the ichor-laced blood poured out of him and onto the lacquered floor. Jarah blinked in surprise--as did the remaining six guards. Shifting her gaze from the gory mess next to her, Jarah looked up at the entrance to the hallway. Honu stood there, a smug smile on her face.
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