[Well, three levels of issues prevented an update on Saturday/Sunday. Firstly I was away from home. Then however in spite of making things so that I could update away from home, I plain forgot to update. None of that matters however because as it turns out I would not have been able to update even if I had remembered due to domain issues/switching hosts/whatever it was. So, back to back update for now, today and tomorrow. Enjoy.]

Chapter 9: Wind of Ill Fortune

Leshac was no longer sure whether the lance was a help or a hindrance in this climb. It was certainly useful for creating handholds, though he feared accidentally activating it’s magics, thus spelling his doom by a slide of rock and ice. Quil was not fairing too well, the charms of her robe were barely holding out against the piercing wind and snow, Leshac’s form shielded her, to try to fly in this would be death. Leshac was not having quite as many problems. Leshac’s current form was good for climbing, and apart from that, was naturally immune to the cold.

If things rested at that, then there would have been no issues. However, Leshac continually had to find sheltered crooks to hide in. Such was the nature of the winds, that Leshac had to take shelter to avoid being utterly encased in ice. Quil used magic to remove the ice encrusting Leshac’s limbs, and did her best to enchant herself with warmth.

Leshac also used these moments to check what direction the dragon-waycharm was glowing. He feared that it would not last much longer, then Quil would have to try to power the charm, sapping even more power from her. Climbing a mountain in Nortreiln is, simply put, insanity. Normally one would employ all kinds of equipment, wards and charms, and even with all due precautions climbing most Nortreiln mountains is an extremely risky affair. The winds of Nortreiln are enough trouble when on the ground, but high above, the wind can seem a malevolent reaper, slicing the unwary in half or sending creatures without wings flying.

Even without the frosty winds, which sometimes have shards of ice long as a man’s hand or a minotaur’s horn, the climb is utterly treacherous, a stable handhold can turn out to be a lump of snow, or a slippery ice covered rock. Too much noise can also cause deadly snowdrifts, many a wanderer has met their end buried alive beneath the snows, or thrown off a mountain by a rush of snow.

Those are only the mundane threats and Kigan is a world of magic, wonder and terror. As much as the winds are wild and without mercy, there is beings that can fly in the winds, like the monstrous huge two-headed bird known as the Roc, and even griffons can fly in those winds. Other beings can even bend the wind in some about to their will. Not only is there monstrous or bestial birds, but stranger beings fly along the winds. Capricious wind elementals and all manner of magic spirits tied to wind will also dwell within the winds, sometimes being the cause of the winds themselves.

If the magic winds can be a menace down on the ground, then they are doubly so up high, clinging onto a mountain for dear life. So, Leshac continued to climb, with no equipment other than a lance, that if he was not careful with, would result in blasting himself off the mountain to a unfortunate end.

Leshac battled the winds, climbing slowly, being pushed this way and that, he could only move in the moments when what Leshac feared happened. The Dragon-waycharm went dead. Quil directed her efforts onto it, as they had discussed while at the last crevice. It shone again, and Leshac continued his gruelling climb.

“Hah- this is nothing compared to my training” Quil bluffed.

The climb seemed to be without end. Quil weakened with each bit of the mountain that Leshac climbed, three times did Leshac have to stop her from falling over, but on they went, the dragon-waycharm was vital to keeping their course. Quil’s echantments of warmth grew weaker and weaker to, as she had to make sure Leshac’s limbs could move in the cold, free of ice.

It happened unexpectedly, Leshac was moving forward, and neither hand was free when a particularly whip-like gust of wind blew, and Quil, completely drained, fell from Leshac, going unconscious as the wind whipped her about. Leshac noticed near instantly.

There are times where everything seems to freeze, and you find yourself thinking many things, this was not one of them. Leshac, was not perhaps the most heroic of people, if he had time to think he might have considered that Quil was too far way, and there was no sense in him dying too. He might have thought how helpful she had been, in spite of her aversion to him. He might have decided to try to save her, as the right thing to do, or out of a certain kind of camaraderie or affection.

Leshac thought nothing, Leshac had no time. All that blazed across his mind was that she would die. So his body moved, he thrust the lance, a sunset blast throwing him off the mountain after Quil, he snatched her from the air, though he was not sure how he had managed the feat. Somehow, she had not frozen and her wings were still fine. Leshac was amazed, no wonder she was an apprentice of Liohk Balreah, Quil was sure to become a powerful enchantress.

This was good, there was a catch, however. Leshac was now being tossed about by the chilling blade like winds. This was bad.

The winds played mercilessly with Leshac, seeming at every gust to be trying to take either his newly won lance, or Quil. Leshac did not feel inclined to give up either. The wind could not defeat him. Leshac fought against the winds, refusing to submit, and so he was tossed by them.

Before Leshac’s eyes, a change came over the winds, he found himself floating in calmer air, but the winds surrounding him grew ever more violent, going faster and faster, Leshac realized, that somewhere along his time of being blown about, he had entered the eye of some kind of cold tornado. A deep hollow whistling reached Leshac’s ears, along with a ghostly chiming, there was some other thing present apart from the winds.

Leshac stared up above, there, in the very heart of the maelstrom of wind and ice, was a Goahrudua.

There are many magical spirits in Kigan, the Goahrudua is one of them. As any sufficiently learned mage would tell you, a Goahrudua is academically classed as middling magic spirit of the wind sub-element of the prime element Chaos. Goahrudua are born of magic infused winds, despair and people generally falling to their doom. It is classed as a chlan spirit, or in other words the nature of its’ existence is malevolent and corrupt, eyes glowing sickly yellow, as the eyes of all chlan do. They are simply put, a natural disaster in magical form. Thankfully Goahrudua cannot survive when the magic wind that birthed them dies down, though a magic wind remains strong for longer than one of usual type.

Perhaps the worst aspect of a Goahrudua is what it looks like. A massive purple scowling savage face, from which at least thirteen massive bladed wings extend. The wings are as purple as the foul head. Below the head dangles a multitude of bladed tendrils, these tendrils chime off a great stone bell with no clapper that is attached to the head, this bell hollowly whistles, even as the tendrils play their ghostly tune. There is nothing more to the shape of its’ spirit body than this. It was roughly four times the size of Leshac.

Leshac, seeing the putrid yellow eyes, and generally sensing the harm of the spirit, quickly thrust his paradox armament at the misshapen head. Twilight and sunrise poured off the lance, streaked towards the purple monstrosity, the magic crashed into the spirit, obliterating one of it’s wings. The chlanic spirit shrieked, and the winds wavered. Howling it glided at Leshac, who simply thrust again, though the tossing of the air meant he only managed to destroy part of the stone bell.

This however, seemed to affect the spirit more than having a wing blown off. It stopped, then howled at Leshac, who brought the lance forward to guard himself, for it was no ordinary howl. A sinister wind like a thousand daggers issued forth from the Goahrudua’s mouth. The Lance afforded some protection from this, but Leshac knew that he would not survive for long if he continued to take such punishment, so, wind slicing into him, he thrust the day-dying, night-ending lance at the chlan spirit’s mouth.

The spirit jerked, mouth spilling bright motes of light and dark shadows, that blow had greatly wounded it, and its’ shape shimmered, its’ substance was weaker now, so it retreated into spinning winds surrounding Leshac. Leshac tried to gain some manner of control over his own movements, but he was at the mercy of whatever gust pushed him. He did his best to keep his senses sharp for when the chlan spirit would return.

He was not left waiting long.

Winds lashing around it like whips the Goahrudua burst into the eye of the storm, hollowly whistling and haunting chimes flowing after it. Leshac for his part, tried to strike the stone bell, unfortunately, the chlan spirit was moving far too fast, Leshac was hit by one of the wind whips and went spinning into the swirling winds around the eye. He instantly felt pain as the ice in the winds dug into his flesh.

Leshac thought quickly and pulled the shadow under the guard of his lance out, shaping it too his will he flung it out like a grapple and rope, and by some stroke of fortune, managed to latch onto the Gaohrudua. Swinging in, Leshac pulled the lance across the surface of the bell, cracking it with sunset scouring. Then, he released the shadow’s hold on the chlan spirit. He was kind of irritated for not having thought of the shadow hook earlier.

The Gaohrudua howled in fury, and winds assaulted Leshac once more, but it was mere fury, now that Leshac was able to manoeuvre in the air, this was over. He threw forward the shadow-grapple once more, this time he could aim, latching onto the thing’s chin, then he whipped towards the bell, lance held forth, and as he did his most unconventional charge, the paradox magic of the lance answered, shimmering along the length of the lance in dusk and dawn. He gave a mighty thrust just before he connected, and twilight raked across the bell, cracks forming rapidly.

Now Leshac had not stopped to think about the death of this creature, which, if he had, he would have been far more careful, as things stood. The Bell let loose a joyous gong, and then the Gaohrudua exploded in a blast of wind and exultation the surrounding winds dying a sudden death. Leshac, was for his troubles, hit in the head by a lump of undissolved bell, and sent flying by the explosion.

Leshac out cold, was wafted away by the strong winds.