05-13-2018, 06:15 PM
Before she had even opened her eyes, Whirda felt her fingers close around the woman’s throat, cutting her song short. She reached to her belt, fingers groping for the hilt of her dagger. All she found was empty air as her eyes flashed open, darting back and forth to take in her surroundings, sclera flooded with black.
The woman struggled against the surprising strength of Whirda’s grip, her hands grasping feebly at Whirda’s black-veined arm. The very air around them seemed to darken. The wind slipping in through the windows increased in intensity, the room rumbling and crackling like a thunderstorm. Wisps of shadow coalesced around Whirda’s arms, as if torn from the air like cotton, and took the form of eyeless serpents, snapping and darting in at Tia Dalma’s face and neck. The wind took a vase full of slivers of fishbones and sent it to the floor, where it shattered with a resounding crash.
In her mindless fury, Whirda swung her legs from the bed and stood, shoving her assailant back. Her legs, atrophied from years of disuse, buckled beneath her she she relinquished her grasp on her enemy, collapsing to the floor. Refusing to surrender, stubborn Whirda crawled, dragging her useless legs behind her.
Tia Dalma staggered back, gasping for air, one hand clutching her aching throat. The voodoo priestess felt Calypso rising within her and fought to keep the destructive might of the sea goddess contained. Another jar crashed to the floor, narrowly avoiding Jack. The monkey scampered back, adding the howls of its panic to the crackling storm growing in the room. Putting more distance between herself and the crawling woman, Tia fell within herself, accessing just a fragment of Calypso’s power and uttering an oath. Abruptly, the growing winds desisted and the room grew quiet.
The newfound calm did little to calm Whirda’s rage. If anything, it intensified as the dread-locked woman counteracted her building maelstrom as easily as two pinching fingers dousing a candle’s flame. With a sharp crack, Whirda disappeared, reappearing a moment later behind her enemy and again latching a hand around the back of her neck.
Tia Dalma, no novice in combat and a powerful Prime in her own right, was more prepared this time. The taller woman thrust her hips backward into Whirda’s stomach and spun in one fluid movement, her elbow catching the black-veined woman as she doubled over and sending her to the ground in a heap.
Whirda growled and dragged herself to her feet, leaning on a rickety table to keep her balance and remain upright. She thrust a hand toward Tia Dalma and the voodoo priestess had no time to react as a black dagger coalesced in front of her outstretched palm and flashed toward her. Tia tried to duck but the dagger slashed across her temple, the priestess’s blood splattering the wall behind her.
In that moment, Jack the monkey came to his master’s aid. The crafty monkey had climbed to a high shelf above Whirda, who had failed to notice the monkey in the heat of battle. Bracing itself with its front paws, the capuchin used its hind legs to shove a heavy jar off of the shelf. It hit the table on which Whirda leaned, its weight enough to splinter and break the table’s legs. For the third time Whirda collapsed to the floor and Jack wasted no time, pouncing on her back and latching onto the Prime’s shoulder with its teeth.
Whirda screamed, reaching for the capuchin with one hand. Another dart erupted from her palm, then a third, but the nimble monkey scampered out of the way of both and latched on again, this time to Whirda’s other shoulder.
“Enough!” Tia Dalma roared, and in that moment her voice was not her own, but the deep, resounding voice of the sea goddess Calypso. It filled every inch of the room, reverberating with latent power. A wave of the priestess’s hand sent Whirda skittering across the floor, the capuchin leaping almost instinctively into the air, latching onto a hanging gourd.
To her credit, Whirda managed to tuck into a backward somersault and come up on one knee, still sliding backward with the force of the gale, before her legs again gave out and she sprawled to the floor. She craned her neck to stare in wonder at the slender woman with the voice of a goddess.
“You’re among friends,” Tia said, taking a tentative step forward, her arms out wide to show she meant Whirda no harm. A single line of blood traced a path down her ebony cheek. “You been gone a long time, child.”
Whirda tried to muster a response, to make some sense of the puzzle before her. She opened her mouth, but darkness encroached on her vision. Her head drooped and the strength fled her limbs.
Whirda Windstrom slept once more.
The woman struggled against the surprising strength of Whirda’s grip, her hands grasping feebly at Whirda’s black-veined arm. The very air around them seemed to darken. The wind slipping in through the windows increased in intensity, the room rumbling and crackling like a thunderstorm. Wisps of shadow coalesced around Whirda’s arms, as if torn from the air like cotton, and took the form of eyeless serpents, snapping and darting in at Tia Dalma’s face and neck. The wind took a vase full of slivers of fishbones and sent it to the floor, where it shattered with a resounding crash.
In her mindless fury, Whirda swung her legs from the bed and stood, shoving her assailant back. Her legs, atrophied from years of disuse, buckled beneath her she she relinquished her grasp on her enemy, collapsing to the floor. Refusing to surrender, stubborn Whirda crawled, dragging her useless legs behind her.
Tia Dalma staggered back, gasping for air, one hand clutching her aching throat. The voodoo priestess felt Calypso rising within her and fought to keep the destructive might of the sea goddess contained. Another jar crashed to the floor, narrowly avoiding Jack. The monkey scampered back, adding the howls of its panic to the crackling storm growing in the room. Putting more distance between herself and the crawling woman, Tia fell within herself, accessing just a fragment of Calypso’s power and uttering an oath. Abruptly, the growing winds desisted and the room grew quiet.
The newfound calm did little to calm Whirda’s rage. If anything, it intensified as the dread-locked woman counteracted her building maelstrom as easily as two pinching fingers dousing a candle’s flame. With a sharp crack, Whirda disappeared, reappearing a moment later behind her enemy and again latching a hand around the back of her neck.
Tia Dalma, no novice in combat and a powerful Prime in her own right, was more prepared this time. The taller woman thrust her hips backward into Whirda’s stomach and spun in one fluid movement, her elbow catching the black-veined woman as she doubled over and sending her to the ground in a heap.
Whirda growled and dragged herself to her feet, leaning on a rickety table to keep her balance and remain upright. She thrust a hand toward Tia Dalma and the voodoo priestess had no time to react as a black dagger coalesced in front of her outstretched palm and flashed toward her. Tia tried to duck but the dagger slashed across her temple, the priestess’s blood splattering the wall behind her.
In that moment, Jack the monkey came to his master’s aid. The crafty monkey had climbed to a high shelf above Whirda, who had failed to notice the monkey in the heat of battle. Bracing itself with its front paws, the capuchin used its hind legs to shove a heavy jar off of the shelf. It hit the table on which Whirda leaned, its weight enough to splinter and break the table’s legs. For the third time Whirda collapsed to the floor and Jack wasted no time, pouncing on her back and latching onto the Prime’s shoulder with its teeth.
Whirda screamed, reaching for the capuchin with one hand. Another dart erupted from her palm, then a third, but the nimble monkey scampered out of the way of both and latched on again, this time to Whirda’s other shoulder.
“Enough!” Tia Dalma roared, and in that moment her voice was not her own, but the deep, resounding voice of the sea goddess Calypso. It filled every inch of the room, reverberating with latent power. A wave of the priestess’s hand sent Whirda skittering across the floor, the capuchin leaping almost instinctively into the air, latching onto a hanging gourd.
To her credit, Whirda managed to tuck into a backward somersault and come up on one knee, still sliding backward with the force of the gale, before her legs again gave out and she sprawled to the floor. She craned her neck to stare in wonder at the slender woman with the voice of a goddess.
“You’re among friends,” Tia said, taking a tentative step forward, her arms out wide to show she meant Whirda no harm. A single line of blood traced a path down her ebony cheek. “You been gone a long time, child.”
Whirda tried to muster a response, to make some sense of the puzzle before her. She opened her mouth, but darkness encroached on her vision. Her head drooped and the strength fled her limbs.
Whirda Windstrom slept once more.
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