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A tower in the distance, just before the sea. This one was still intact, not some war-torn ruin. Joanna smiled. She knew this was the end.
The ground rumbled and split as she tore the stones from the earth, to float and sway in the air, upheld by the sigils she had willed upon them. A shout rang out from the tower, and moment later, a hail of arrows followed.
She had been spotted.
The arrows bounced harmlessly against the boulders. She had positioned each to block the line of sight of her foes. It was a simple thing to do: she could look through the stones, but they could not. And even if a stray arrow hit her, she could yank it out. In the yellow light of the sigils, her skin was like iron.
Joanna walked at a leisurely pace towards the tower, as men in chainmail and plate armor spilled out of the wooden gates to meet her. They were deserters, bandits, hardened criminals, emboldened by the lawlessness that had swept over the land, along with the war. Their halberds and pole-axes shone in the mid morning sun. And then they were chunks of meat, skewered on stone spikes she had called from the ether. Joanna smiled, and kept walking.
She remembered how it had been, only months prior. Her geomancy was so weak then, it was laughable. She had to run from every foe she fought, roughing the ground to hamper their movement, until she could find loose stone near the surface. It was a foolish strategy that never should have been effective. Anyone with even the basest magical knowledge would know better to let a geomancer choose the battlefield. And any fool with a crossbow could simply have shot her dead.
But, Joanna was a woman. And so the men she pursued, men with bounties, didn't shoot her right away. They thought nothing of the way she waved her hands as she ran. Thought nothing of the glowing lights at her fingertips. They chased after her with lust in their eyes, until the very moment she flattened them.
Their eyes were just like her masters had been. Back before she had lacked the courage to even run. She had been forced to run from the academy, and, when her new life began, she was running still. She always hated running. But she got better at it. Better at all of it. And now she never needed to run, if she didn't want to.
And so she walked. Another wave of men, fewer than before, charged out of the tower, their eyes wide with fear, and disbelief. She liked that look better. Joanna let her power overflow, and one of the runic boulders shattered, in a clap of thunder, into a thouand pieces: a sphere of shrapnel. It met the second wave of men, who fell down and joined the first, as a pile of corpses.
She stepped through the gate. One of the crossbowmen who had tried to shoot at her earlier, had realized the futility of this, and was charging her from across the courtyard. His eyes were full of desperate hope.
She smiled. He knew. He thought he knew.
Mages needed time to recover, after they cast a spell. They had to gather the power again, refocus.
But Joanna was far, far beyond and ordinary mage. She had soaked the Earth with so much blood, that the Earth was hungry wherever she walked. Her attunement to the stones was strong, and deep. She could feel them, find them anywhere, now. Gaias teeth were always eager to wake up, and take another bite.
Joanna felt a wonderfully sharp stone, meters beneath the courtyard. She could have drawn it up, and split the man in two. But instead she let him come.
She let him sprint towards her, let him swing at her, try to bash her head in with a flanged mace. She drew her daggers, and deflected. And they danced, a short, sweet dance, without spells, or words of any kind. Until he was dead, and she walked into the tower, untouched.
Anyone watching would think it was a trick. That she was a witch, or some monster, with strength far beyond a mortal man. But the truth was far simpler. It was only that her invulnerability, when bathed in the yellow light of the boulders sigils, had given her a safe way to practice. It was amazing how skilled she could become in a life or death duel, if those duels could never result in her death.
Those in and around tower were beginning to catch on. A swordsman tried to sprint away from the courtyard, so she split him with the sharp stone which had been neglected earlier. He continued to flee, for a brief moment, as two one legged men.Then she tossed the stone, still dripping, at the door. The glowing yellow rock met the wood, and the door exploded. She entered the tower.
Three boulders floated, tranquil, up the stone stairs, Joanna following behind. Two men with shields tried to block their advance with their bodies, and were crushed against the tower wall for their effort. She stepped over them. By now, she could hear the screams of terror from the room above. The men were broken now.
As they should be.
An enormous tin can with piggedly eyes stepped down from the lookout into a finely adorned space. He dropped a long axe, and shouted:
"Halt, mage! Have mercy! Our lives are yours, and the tower is returned! We will leave it now if you will let us!"
Joanna simply motioned from him to sit. After a moment, the two were at a table, one with a map of the surrounding lands, in two cushy wooden chairs. Her benefactors would love to have it back, so they could return to their war games, she thought.
Joanna said nothing, and simply stared at the man. He had settled into his seat like quivering stack of shit. Actually, not so quivering. The piggedly man had gathered his nerves. He was a brave stack of shit: she could give him credit for that much.
A moment passed. The man breathed heavily, but patiently waited as Joanna stared him down. Eventually, though, he spoke.
"Are we to parlay? I and my men are at your mercy. We have some wealth, in caches, in the surrounding woods, which we..."
"That will not be necessary."
The man gulped, sweat poring down his face.
"I will allow some of you to live, but I have some demands first. Do you understand?"
The man nodded, went back to being quiet. Obedient. He had at least two chins: his face was like a tub of fat within which a weasel had been permanently submerged, but he listened. Joanna liked him.
"First, bring the men hiding atop the lookout into this room."
The leaders face went white, but he barked an order, and four archers climbed down from the top of the tower and stood nearby, hands empty. They did not have the courage of the piggedly man. At least one of them had pissed themselves.
The pig spoke: "If you mean to crush us all at once, I beg you to spare Jonathan..."
One of the four, the youngest of the archers, gasped, and got teary eyed. Huh. Must be Jonathan.
"...he was not so much one of our member as a pup we took in. He has committed no treason, only..."
"You have not fulfilled my demands."
"...yes! Of course!"
"Good. Now. What did you think of my magecraft?"
The man's mouth hung open, slack-jawed.
"It... I..."
"Tell me honestly."
The man's face reddened, in understanding. He hesitated, and then found his courage again.
"It was underhanded of you, to approach us, pretending to be a woman. And unnecessary. We stood no chance against..."
The man reeled backward as Joanna bared her chest. The archers stopped shaking in their boots for a moment, their eyes as wide as dinner plates.
The pig barely avoided falling backwards in his chair. And then he just stared, mouth agape. He made a terrible gasping noise, and then pointed his finger at her.
"A wh.. a.. a witch!"
In response, Joanna calmy recited a prayer. One of the men crumpled to the floor. She had not cast a spell: it was simply that witches were not supposed to be able to pray. Too much for his nerves, she supposed.
"I have one more demand."
The pig simply nodded, overwhelmed.
"You will choose one of your number to duel against me."
She gave them a minute to gather themselves.
"I'll do it." The youngest man said.
"Jonathan, no! She's a witch! She'll eat you!" The eldest archer moaned, from his spot on the floor where he had collapsed.
"No she's not. Shes prayed, and witches can't pray. She's just a mage with a tick on her shoulder. 'S got something to prove." The boy met her gaze as he spoke, confidently.
Joanna grinned. "Accurate. You're fairly perceptive. Perhaps we will duel. But why should I take insult from you when I could crush you for it instead?"
Jonathon didn't flinch. "Because this is about reputation. You want us to tell stories about a girl mage who can cut down a man."
Joanna laughed.
"Actually, I want you to tell the magistrate that this tower belongs to me now. I'm tired of being a mercenary."
Joanna sighed. Jonathon took a step back. The piggedly man was squirming as she turned him to stone, but no one had noticed yet.
"I've killed so many men. Not all of them deserved it. And I've sent just as many more running away, tail between their legs, to tell stories about the 'girl mage'", she spat.
"It doesn't work. Nothing changes. I kill a troll for Manshire, and they pay me a few measely weeks of guards wages."
Jonathon spoke up, in anger. "My brothers... the 'Fortunes Favored' are dead. No lowly gang of bandits can stop you. Why do you need reputation if you can just take what you want?"
Joanna smiled. "Exactly." Two of the crossbowmen began to shriek as they realized what she had done. The piggedly man had been transformed into a statue. His face was permanently contorted into a silent, choking scream. He was... strangely beautiful.
Jonathon screamed, tore at his own hair, then drew his knife, and snarled. "I would like to fulfill your request!"
Joanna threw back her head and laughed. And then she lunged at him, so the dance could begin.
It was over far too quickly. He had played at keeping distance, and made a feint or two. And then she had her blades at his neck.
"Spare them." Jonathon whispered, as he dropped his weapon. He was ready for death.
Joanna sighed. And then she kicked Jonathon in the groin, so the he collapsed into the other archers, in a heap.
"I only said I would spare Jonathan. And then Jonathon volunteered to duel. I never promised to spare him twice."
The men wailed in terror as three boulders, which had been silently waiting near the ceiling, pinned them to the floor.
"However, there is no need for me to kill any of you. Because this is my tower now. You will make my life comfortable, and watch as I entertain myself making meat pastry of the magistrate men who will come when they learn of my betrayal."
There were frenzied screams of approval.
Jonathon growled from beneath a thousand pound rock. "We would rather die!"
Good.
"Accept, and I'll turn your leader back from stone."
The three other men again accepted, while pleading for their lives.
Jonathon nodded, unable to speak.
And so Joanna became lord of the Tower Nevthrost, leader of the "Fortunes Favored".