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Cherbin and the rest of her party blinked as Sadu pointed toward her in challenge, a feral grin on her face. They had originally come to Dotharl Khaa to ask if they could use the shards at the House of the Crooked Coin - it was the only thing they could find nearby capable of supporting the proposed wall at the Burn, but the relic held significant value to the people of the Steppe. This held truer for none than the Dotharl, whose fervent faith in the Dusk Mother rivaled that of the Oronir's in the Dawn Father.
It wouldn't be so simple as just asking , however. Few things are, when it comes to the Xaela of the Steppe, thought Yahlo'li wryly.
“I…beg your pardon, khatun?” Cherbin asked tentatively, hoping against hope that she had misheard, or that perhaps the khatun was pointing at the wrong person.
“Do my words fall on the ears of a khun chuluu? The Naadam ended ere it began. I desire a fight with you, my former clanmate, without distractions!” Sadu taunted, her almost accusatory finger unwavering. “Or are you still so cowardly that you would abandon your cause for the Doman just to avoid doing battle with me?”
“Cherbin’s no coward!” said M’zikuh angrily, her tail flaring up in protest. “She’s one of the bravest people I know!”
“I agree,” said Wick, nodding in assent, his expression suddenly severe, clearly bristled. “Whether to accept your challenge or not is still up to her, but as her fellow adventurers we won’t stand for such slander. Allies or no, I would advise you to choose your words carefully, Sadu Khatun.” His hand rested on the pommel of his sword hanging from his hip as he said this, the azure blade glinting in the sunlight, an act that seemed to cause Cherbin some distress and Hien some alarm.
“Please, there is no need for this!” she said, stamping her foot as if to put a stop to the conflict like a judge with a gavel as Yahlo's hands moved to hover around his daggers. “Sadu Khatun, you know full well I dislike fighting for its own sake, and I have allies that are just as capable as I in battle. Why choose me when you know I detest it so?”
“I have seen their souls burn radiantly during the Naadam, argali,” said Sadu, waving a hand dismissively towards the group in question. “But when last I saw you, you fought using a book and a fairy tale! I know you are more capable than that, fiercer than that! I know your soul can burn brighter, and so I command you: Fight! Let me see your soul ablaze and become radiant! ” Her voice rose to such a fervor towards the end, one might almost mistake it for religious reverence towards the art of war.
Fiora stared at Sadu, willing her jaw not to drop in her befuddlement. “...erm…Cherbin, is this how those in the Dotharl tribe…flirt?” Cherbin ignored her remark, and was quiet for a few moments, her brow knitting as she warred with herself.
“You don’t have to fight, Cherbin,” said M'zikuh reassuringly. “We’ll find another way to get the aether we need!”
“I would not be so sure of that,” said Y’shtola grimly. “It may prove difficult to find an equally reliable source of aether close enough to the Burn before a potential Garlean invasion.”
“But she shouldn’t have to fight to–”
The two groups bickered, all the while Cherbin remained silent, her brow furrowed in thought, drowning out the arguing. Finally, her voice cut through the argument.
“Very well. Where shall we hold this contest?”
Sadu’s Cheshire grin widened, a stark difference from the shocked expressions surrounding them.
“Perhaps you are a Dotharl yet, argali!” she declared, a fire in her eyes as she spoke. “The khaa shall be an excellent battleground. Meet me there, and do not disappoint me!”
The four of them gathered at the large statue of Nhaama, her prominence casting a shadow over the battleground as the two combatants made their preparations. Cherbin studied and restudied the arcanima in her tome, willing the symbols to etch themselves into her mind so she would not be caught unawares in the bout to come.
“You don’t have to do this, you know,” said M’zikuh, somewhat pleadingly while glancing over at Sadu, who on the other side had a smug expression on her face, her staff in hand. “One of us can fight her, Fiora could –”
“No. It has to be me,” replied Cherbin curtly. “If I turn her down, she will never let us hear the end of it, and will give Hien and the Domans no small measure of grief. In the worst case scenario, she will rally the Dotharl against the Domans, further weakening their position.”
Zikuh opened her mouth to retort, but closed it after a moment. Fiora’s brow furrowed. “What if she cheats? She called them -” she glanced over at Sadu's clanmates, who stood a distance away from their khatun but were nonetheless present, “- witnesses earlier, but how do we know she won’t use them to pull a fast one on us?”
“She will not. Her honor will not allow it - to her, relying on such trickery would dim the light of her soul, akin to being killed by prey.” Cherbin said this so matter-of-factly that it cowed everyone else into silence as she moved opposite Sadu, tome fluttering open.
Sadu took a moment to examine the area that would become their battleground, sand exuding heat from the sun all around them as the sunlight blazed down upon them. “Yes, this spot shall serve as well as any,” she said, her gaze falling upon Cherbin, who proceeded to summon her fairy familiar, Selene. “I shall enjoy this, khagan !” She spat this last word out derisively, as if the very thought of Cherbin being considered khagan disgusted her.
Y’shtola frowned, to match Wick’s. “Is this truly necessary?” she asked. “Have you no peaceable way of making decisions?”
The Dotharl khatun looked offended. “Speak not of peace,” she said, her eyes narrowing at the Miqo’te mage. “You stand before proud warriors of the Dotharl. In the heat of battle do our souls burn brightest! We lay low the strong that we may rise higher!” She gesticulated her staff toward the group, her grin growing wider.
“That is our way - the way of might! There is no other, much as certain argali might try to prove otherwise!”
Now it was Y’shtola’s turn to stare bewildered at the khatun as Cherbin glowered. “...Well, they do not want for conviction.”
Hien hmphed. “Indeed. It’s what makes them such dangerous enemies…and such useful allies.” He punctuated this last statement with a glance at Cherbin, her tome laying open in her hand and her fairy fluttering just above her shoulder.
“Would that we could have found another way to make them allies without usurping their system,” muttered Fiora, a statement which the Doman swordsman paid no heed to, though whether it was out of ignorance or spite was unknown to the Viera.
Y’shtola opened her mouth as if to say something, but could barely take a breath before an explosion caused air to rush past them, kicking up sand and dust around the group and grabbing their attention. Across from them, as the dust cloud cleared, it revealed a protective dome around Cherbin, the glass-like aether around her shimmering with the impact, while Sadu on the other end bore a feral grin as the remnants of fire aether dissipated from the end of her staff. The scholar scowled and fired off a Broil, orange motes of magic arcing towards the khatun, who sent them careening away with a flick of her staff and a burst of wind, where they exploded harmlessly in the air above them.
The two were evenly matched, each sending spell after spell at the other with neither side showing any sign of backing down. They were as forces of nature, sparks flying and landing dangerously close to the onlookers as the spells clashed against each other, the air booming with each impact. One bunch of sparks arced towards Zikuh, and Fiora rushed to shield her, the sparks bouncing harmlessly off the leather of her coat and momentarily distracting Cherbin, her gaze shifting to her party for just a moment.
That distraction was all her opponent needed, as Sadu sent an opportunistic bolt of lightning at Cherbin, who looked back to her opponent just in time for the electricity to strike her square in the shoulder, sending her careening backwards away from Sadu. Her tome went flying out of her hands as she hit the ground and lay, unmoving.
“ CHERBIN! ” cried Zikuh as she peered around Fiora, eyes wide with horror. Sadu merely cackled.
“Is this the best you can do, argali?” she taunted at her fallen opponent. “Is this the brightest your soul can burn? Rise, damn you!”
For a few heartstopping moments Cherbin lay unmoving, but with a quick Embrace from Selene, she staggered back up with a groan, picking her glasses up off the sand and dusting them off.
“....calling me that.”
“What was that?” Sadu made a show of cupping her hand to her ear. “I can’t hear you, argali !”
“I said, stop calling me that!” Cherbin shouted as her head lifted, her eyes ablaze with an uncharacteristic anger, causing everyone, even the khatun, to fall silent.
“All my life…My entire life , you have called me the same: argali, argali, argali ! I am more than just some sheep, some beast of burden, Sadu! I am Cherbin, of the Dotharl tribe, and of the Winds of Valnain, and I shall show you the fury you crave !”
She adopted a different stance this time, one her party had never seen - instead of picking up her tome again, her hands came up in front of her, her legs spread further out for balance, Selene's aether dissipating. Hien raised his eyebrows in surprise.
“Oh this is new,” he managed to say before Cherbin began dashing forward, her eyes locked on a singular target. Sadu’s eyes widened only slightly before she sent a fireball arcing towards her. Rather than dodge, Cherbin whirled around and gave the orb of flame a solid kick, causing it to fly off towards the edge of the desert, exploding upon the ground with a boom , her leg smoking slightly from the impact but otherwise appearing unharmed. The spectacle nearly caused her party's jaws to drop; even Yahlo’s brows arched in shock.
“Wha - Since when has Cherbin been able to do that?!” Zikuh asked once her speech returned to her, her eyes wide and looking to her two protectors for answers. Wick frowned, his brow furrowed.
“I don’t know, but I presume that this is something she has nevertheless had for a long time,” he mused. “Both these martial skills, and this resentment towards her khatun.”
“Resentment…?” Zikuh looked towards Cherbin again, and her eyes were filled with that same rancor, her every strike filled with rage, her gaze unflinching from the grinning khatun at her approach, batting away spells as if they were flies. She had never seen her ally so single-minded in her pursuit of a target - she had always been so thorough, so open-minded in her approach to a problem, always considering multiple angles, but now…she was as a boar, unstoppable and unflinching.
Fiora also frowned, but for a different reason. Why is Cherbin only using her legs?
As Cherbin bore down on Sadu, the khatun sent out a burst of wind to try and blow her back, but Cherbin merely leapt over it and came down upon Sadu in a furious axe kick, sending the mage crumpling into the sand as the bookwyrm landed with a thud . She panted heavily, staring down at Sadu’s unmoving form, the anger still present in her gaze.
“How is that for fury, khatun?” she spat as Sadu came back to consciousness, shaking her head and in turn staggering to her feet. Rather than look afraid, Sadu looked…enraptured?
“Yes! YES! Not since the Naadam has my soul burned so!” she said jubilantly, her Cheshire grin growing wider in response to Cherbin’s rancor. “You have certainly grown from the argali you once were - perhaps it would be more accurate to call you bukh instead?”
Zikuh had no idea what any of these words meant, but they certainly seemed to make Cherbin angrier.
“Spare me, Sadu,” said Cherbin, her stance unshifting. “Your disdain for me has been no secret then and it has not changed now; do not pretend otherwise just because I have bested you!”
Sadu guffawed, her expression fierce. “Say what you will, but I see your soul as it is: fiery and radiant! You cannot deny you enjoy this!”
Cherbin said nothing as Sadu stood, using her staff as a support for only a moment.
“Come, we have only just begun!”
But before they could continue their bout, a voice cut through the air like a knife.
“Enough! You were not granted leave to set the Steppe ablaze,” said Magnai from the statue of Nhaama, arms crossed and eyes narrow as his own retinue stood behind him. Hien’s eyebrows raised, an amused grin on his face as he glanced up at the newcomers, an expression quite unlike the looks of shock on Cherbin’s party members’.
“Well, well!” he said, a hint of a laugh in his voice. “The Sun has come to play!”
“Leave, moonstruck Oronir!” spat Sadu, her grin turning to a scowl as she glared sidelong at the Oronir atop the statue. “I am busy!”
Magnai’s own scowl deepened. “Fool of a Dotharl,” he said haughtily. “Have you forgotten the face of your master already? The Sun will never set! From his seat on high, He reigns over all, now and forever! Yet what should He find here but a battle to determine the fate of the Steppe - a battle waged without His blessing! This will not stand!”
Y’shtola pinched her nose in frustration, and Yahlo looked perplexed. “...This man is overfond of his own voice, I think,” he said, to the assenting nods of his party.
“I think that is something shared by many of the Oronir, not just him,” commented Wick as the two Xaela bickered.
“I’m more interested in knowing where Cherbin learned to do all of that ,” said Zikuh, still staring at her comrade in awe. “I’ve never known her to lift a hand - er, foot - against another person in the entire time we’ve known her!”
“Clearly we did not know her as well as we would like,” said Yahlo, scowling a little.
Sadu laughed derisively, bringing their attention back to the argument. “These words are as wind from a horse's backside. Plentiful. But your axe sings more sweetly. Let her speak for you.”
If Magnai’s scowl could get any deeper, it would in that moment as his ire turned towards the khatun. “Insolent child. You will learn your place!”
Fiora’s expression darkened. “Ready your weapons, everyone,” she said quietly to her party. “I suspect this is about to get ugly.”
Without another word, Magnai drew his axe, the weight of it seeming to heave the air in waves as it moved, before hopping down from the statue with a boom against the sand and starting to charge after the group. His warpath was only halted as an arrow whizzed past his face, and he looked to see Zikuh glaring fiercely at him, her bow drawn.
“Don’t you touch her!” Her ferocity further gave Magnai pause, long enough for Hien and the rest of her party to arrive and stand between the Oronir and the two Dotharl, with Fiora and Wick leading the van, weapons drawn and eyes glaring daggers.
“Apologies, Brother Magnai,” Hien called past the two Viera, his own sword drawn and ready, his own expression looking almost sheepish were he not so amused, “but we have an arrangement with the Dotharl, and we will not abide any interruptions today!”
Magnai’s scowl deepened, and Fiora could see his grip on his axe tighten. “So be it,” he said, brows furrowing until they were almost together. “The Sun will pass judgment on all! Beg not for mercy, for you will have none! Bear witness to the glory of Azim!”
The group gathered afterward in Shiokaze Hostelry to rest, having successfully gotten the permission they needed from both Oronir and Dotharl, before the two started fighting again. Fiora was the only one not present, as she was needed at a meeting amongst the Alliance members to discuss their next steps regarding Garlemald, whose presence in Doma raised concerns for the other city states as well. She insisted on everyone else taking time to relax while she took care of business, and that she would be by later to join them, so they all agreed to meet in Kugane first.
Zikuh leaned back, both content and exhausted from today’s endeavors, her plate empty. “If I never have to step foot in the Steppe to fight again, it’ll be too soon,” she said tiredly. “As beautiful as it is, it feels like every time we go back to your home we’re embroiled in some problem, Cherbie.”
“You are more right than you know,” said Cherbin, shaking her head. “Even outside of the Naadam, intertribal quarrels are as common as sheep grazing the fields.”
“Little wonder you wanted to leave,” said Wick sympathetically. “Such constant conflict must have worn on you quite a bit.”
Yahlo leaned forward, his scowl having not left since they departed the Steppe, his eyes narrowed at the Xaela. “I’ve been meaning to ask about that,” he said. “Where did you learn to fight like that?”
Cherbin’s expression turned dour as she went quiet for a moment, debating whether or not to answer. “When I was younger,” she finally began, “I was among many that were raised to believe that conflict made our souls radiant. In my…past life, I was known for being a master of martial arts, particularly those that did not require a weapon, save for one’s hands and feet. It was a skill I picked up quickly, and yet…something about it felt incredibly *wrong* to me. I hated using those skills for battle, a fact that Sadu constantly berated me for as we grew up. Even now I refuse to use my hands; I would much rather those be reserved for handling books, an activity I enjoy, rather than doing battle.
“That is why she called me argali - in the tongue of the Steppe, it means ‘sheep’. Something harmless, useless in battle.” She looked down at her legs and gripped the hem of her shirt as she recalled the memories, her brow furrowing. “It is…not easy to speak about. They were not pleasant times.”
Now it was the group’s turn to be silent, Yahlo’s scowl being replaced with an apologetic look. “...Sorry, Cherbin. I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.” Cherbin shook her head.
“It’s quite alright. Better that I am out in the open with those I would consider my allies, my friends, than be silent and you find out some other, more unscrupulous way.” She smiled at said allies, who returned the affectionate expression, before a sharp, agonizing pain shot through all of their heads save for Wick’s, a high pitched keening ringing in their ears as their protector looked at them with concern.
“Are you all alright?!” he said with no small measure of alarm. “What is happening?”
“There’s…a voice…!” said Zikuh through gritted teeth, her skull feeling as though it were about to split open. “Something about…a calamity…?”
Let expanse contract…eon become instant… All heard these words spoken in their minds, except for Wick, who looked baffled and concerned in equal measure that he was the only one exempt.
Throw wide the gates that we may pass!
The pain faded upon those words being spoken, and almost everyone straightened up, shaking their heads as if clearing a fog. “Is…Is everyone alright…?” asked Zikuh, who got an affirmative from everyone, save for one.
Cherbin remained unmoving for a moment before falling out of her chair, collapsing on the floor. Everyone shot out of their chairs, alarmed, as Yahlo went to check on her.
“Cherbin?! Cherbin!”
Zikuh hurriedly tapped on her linkpearl, willing Fiora to pick up, before she heard the click of the gunbreaker picking up on the other end.
“Fi, you need to get back here, now! Cherbin just fell unconscious and she won’t wake up! …What do you mean, the same thing happened to Thancred?!”
