It didn’t help that they had been hunting this particular revenge for some time. A fortnight of practice and Al-kin hadn’t allowed them so close before. With mind reeling, Al-kin gathered in more strength off of the ley lines, lending speed to flight, much in the way a bird might use a tailwind.

The uses aren’t intended to do much more than give room for them to make it out of Arlix’s lands. Al-kin owes that much to the human. Still, chances are one or the other of the mages may well see enough in the light castings to make sense of them and learn more about the creature they follow. Any attempt on their part to gather in knowledge must be, somehow, stopped and there was a trade off in knowledge for safety.

If it weren’t for the fallen one, Al-kin would not have done so much. If it weren’t for the need to leave behind the land that had opened its arms in welcome, Al-kin may have done nothing and accepted fate’s decree. Once caught, there was little they could get from Al-kin beyond a broken, dead body that didn’t quite defy logic.

The burst of speed could do little as the speed of the following fire balls was all that much more quick. Explosions came from just ahead at the village entrance, to the right, and just behind. The explosions slammed Al-kin into a corkscrew tumble half into air and then against the ground, sliding into the side of a tent.

The tent poles hit the pooka’s ribs and a small cry of shock broke from inside. Cursing softly, Al-kin shoved against the ground and, ignoring pain, tightened ley lines as one might tighten a trip wire. With the finesse of a fisherman, a net was thrown overhead and into the sky, much like the small handful left along ground level behind.

This done, Al-kin forced an already too broken body upwards and back into the run. A smoldering hole filled the space upon the path where a fireball had struck and the explosion had left its mark. Al-kin gathered in power and made to jump, taking in a breath of preparation as the hole was approached.

It was the breath that was the mistake. Inhalation of smoke into already poor lungs, the shaper lost hold of the ley line weaving and instead of clearing the charred circle, fell into it onto hands and knees. The racking cough took up all concentration for a moment, a breath, and the next breath brought on the next.

Al-kin felt heat burning through leather and cloth. Stumbling upward, the slender creature grasped the silent sword and pulled it free of its scabbard in a graceful arc. There had been hope that should the village be cleared, their fight might have made it to the river and beyond. Granted, the ley lines were not so fat as they were in the village, yet it may have at least satisfied the responsibility to the village.

__________________

‘What will my death be like?’ he thought- and knew at once
with abrupt certainty, that it would be just like his life:
... the same balance of bearables.
~Amis