Category: Calfuray


Eagle and Serpent

Kyra deflected the telepathic blow with a natural ease. Calfuray came again, sending daggers of thought through the cold air of the bay, hoarfrost forming on the crates surrounding Kyra. Lifting her arms, the frost melted, and those that witnessed the affair swore later, a halo formed around Kyra’s black mane. She rotated her wrist turning her palms upward and an arc of blinding light formed between the halo and her fingers.

Calfuray’s eyes narrowed and she moved quickly. The firstest with the mostest as they say. She had seen this light once before and once was more than enough. Leaving her body, Calfuray’s mind rose above the bay and forming into a serpent with two heads lashed downward. Kyra reacted and rose to meet her adversary; and above the bay waged a combat neither seen nor heard between serpent and eagle.

Reaching into Kyra’s mind, the twin serpent heads spit a burning fire into her neural pathways. Kyra withstood the heat and focused her mind, parrying the blow. But Calfuray dug her fangs deep into Kyra’s mind, moving past her cerebral cortex and directly to her limbic lobes. With fingers nimble and quick, Calfuray fondled her lobes, manipulating first one emotion and then another. Kyra tried to pull back. She couldn’t. Calfuray squeezed Kyra’s anger then her fear while caressing her biological rhythms as a cat plays with a mouse.

+I would like to stay and play with one so beautiful and delicate,+ said Calfuray, as her mind’s tongue flicked out and suckled Kyra’s hypothalamus. One tongue circled Kyra’s pleasure nodes while the other tightened its grip on her bodily brain functions, slowly shutting off blood flow as one turns a spigot.

+You know,+ Kyra struggled to say, +it’s been a long time since anyone manipulated my pleasure centers. Don’t stop.+ Kyra was pinned. She needed time. She needed an opening.

+You are a delicious one, much sweeter to my mind’s eye than I imagined.+ Calfuray licked again, allowing the pleasure of control, of domination to please her. Call it the spoils of war, plunder if you will. She had Kyra. Had all of her and there was never, ever anything more satisfying as to take your enemy in every way. +Lighten your resistance and enjoy the flow. I’m going to blow your mind and then I’m going to blow your mind and if you are lucky you will never know the difference. Let go, and I’ll take you to pleasure you never imagined. Resist, and I’ll burn your brain out with an intensity that will make you wish you had never been born.+

+My Janus,+ exclaimed Kyra. +I’ve never felt such pleasure, the intensity is mind boggling. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.+

Calfuray smiled and it cost her everything. In that spilt second of pride, she loosened her grip and Kyra’s claws extended into her heart. Kyra pushed deeper and Calfuray’s body buckled and collapsed and a purplish fluid started to ooze from her ears. She was done.

Kyra walked across the floor, put her hand on Calfuray’s wrist and signaled John’s troopers for a stretcher. Looking up to the balcony her eyes met John’s. He smiled, saluted and walked away.

Von approached. “That was quite a performance. Care to share how you did it?”

“Sometimes you have to let the game come to you. Patience, Papa taught. Take what your opponent gives you,” said Kyra.

“Really?” said Von, tilting his head, lifting his chin and raising one eye.

“Really,” answered Kyra with a wink. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m feeling a little hot in this glove.” Kyra started to walk away before turning and looking over her shoulder. “Von!” she teased.

“What?”

“Act your age.”

Categories: Story, Calfuray, Kyra, Von

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Calfuray secured the lock and set the self-destruct. If she didn’t return, then no one else would either, not that she cared one way or the other. Her mission was straightforward. Find John, kill him. Find Tom, kill him too. Return onworld and hope like hell the ensuing chaos created an opening. A rather simple mission until her cover was blown. The mighty null, she mused, shaking her head, what a frailing joke.

Long before the tocsins, Kyra knew. She closed the folio, stood, opened her eyes and allowed the unnatural vibration of ill will to wash over her six senses like a bloodhound taking the measure of its charge. Walking to her closet she slipped out of her jacket and molded her hard body into her black bodyglove. The glove, as it was called, fit like a second skin, allowing full and unhindered motion while providing more protection than a full suit of ceramite armor.

She had wanted a glove for as long as she could remember, but Papa insisted she earn it. Days of training turned into weeks and weeks into months and months into years. Her physical skill grew quickly, a natural, Papa would say. More shocking, or perhaps most delightful to Papa, her mental acumen astonished as if it danced ahead beckoning and teasing the body to keep pace. The first time Von saw the child perform, Papa asked him how long he thought she had been in training. Von gave an educated guess of three years, which for most Tao would have been a fair estimate. When Papa replied three months the two simply exchanged glances with raised brows.

In her glove, Kyra looked abso-frailing-lutely lethal as coal black hair fell on shoulders neither wide nor narrow, strong yet lithe and eyes sapphire blue narrowed in focus with an intensity seen rarely outside the annuals of greatness personified in the moment of destiny. Kyra pulled her hair back and bended knee while whispering words not known. Goldie watched from the shadows, quiet as a mouse waiting for the cat to pass, mesmerized with circuits feeding off energy sublime and overpowering. Goldie never felt more alive.

Calfuray felt it too. Von’s signature was clear and she made a note, time permitting she mused, of his location. But there was another, one stronger, one different yet somehow similar. Her mind raced. Priorities flickered and threat analysis considered. To the left, her main objective; to the right, this unknown threat, a threat growing warmer, stronger, nearer. John would have to wait.

Calfuray, like Kyra, was something of a prodigy. Not of the Arc’teryxian race, she had been bartered in a hostage trade to keep the peace many years before in a campaign the voice would just as soon forget. The peace was broken and Calfuray, as agreed, would render blood. After she killed the seventh executioner, barehanded, the voice thought otherwise. Natural talent of this order was rare. Ten years later Calfuray’s skills as an assassin were unmatched. Until her encounter with Von, she had never failed a mission. She intended to never fail another.

“Are you looking for me?” asked Kyra, standing on the far end of the cargo bay.

Calfuray focused her oculus crosshairs and marveled at the feedback. Calibration failed, but that was only a matter of time. “You know, we both want the same thing.”

“And what would that be?” responded Kyra, trying to get a feel for this unknown entity. Vibrations were mixed in an odd sort of way. Not what she expected. But then, she thought, what was.

“To go home. To live in peace,” said Calfuray. “We are tired of being hunted, of running, of living on worlds not our own. I sense you understand. Am I wrong?”

Kyra smile and now she knew why Von had had such a struggle. Before she could answer she felt a warm purplish light cross her retinal. Calfuray felt it too. Calibration. And upon the signal released the hounds of hell with all her might.

Categories: Story, Calfuray, Kyra

Let Go

Calfuray smiled. Her legs straddled Von’s waist pinning his back to the damp ground, the tip of her dagger trembling an inch from his heart. She could feel his strength weakening, his hands and arms straining with the last gasp effort of desperation. He had been a worthy adversary, but there were more prey to hunt. Leaning forward, her weight shifted the balance.

“Concentrate Von,” said Zeke, standing to the right of the chair, his hands folded behind his back such that his head appeared to float above his ubiquitous white tunic. His stance gave the contradictory appearance of solidity and fluidness. “The fire can only touch an unfocused mind, a mind deluded in darkness,” repeated Zeke.

Von was nothing if not determined. Sweat rolled down his long angular face, carried away by the creases of age worn by time under his eyes and along his high cheeks. The chair hummed lightly as bolts of fire moved closer. His hands, strong and agile, struggled to articulate the controls, which oddly felt heavy and sluggish. The fire intensified and the rate of rotation increased. The orange and yellow flashes blurred as if forming a solid wall of fire.

“Darkness seeks darkness. Neither resist nor engage. Seek the light Von. Close your eyes. The light you seek cannot be seen, it must be felt. Search your heart my friend. There you will find the light. And stop trying so hard—effort is always the sign of the wrong path. You cannot swim against the tide. Let go and follow the light.”

Damn the platitudes thought Von. Why did everything have to sound like a cheap postcard? Light my arse. The only light I see is the damn fire from this Janus forsaken contraption.

The chair slowed and the fire subsided. “That’s enough for today,” said Zeke. “Until you are ready to concentrate, to allow yourself to believe, to trust the flow to take you to higher ground, well, until that time, we are just wasting our time.”

“I don’t see the point of this exercise Zeke. What is a chair bound in this blasted fire going to teach me?”

“At this point in your life—nothing. Grab your stuff. We’re done here.”

“Zeke.”

“I thought you might be ready. I was wrong.”

“Sorry to disappoint you,” offered Von.

“No disappointment Von. What is, is. I fully accept the reality. Otherwise, I would be as lost as you. Now cheer up. You might be confused, but I know exactly where we are; and just as important, where we need to go.”

“Would you like to share that information with me?”

“Von, don’t take this the wrong way, but you have not experienced enough pain in your life. There are two keys to the door of light. One is Love and the other is Pain. You are not ready for Love, but pain is definitely an option. If you want to graduate into the special Blue Onyx division, it will be through the fires of pain. The option is yours. You can let me know in the morning.”

“Let go my friend. I promise my dagger is sharp, its poison swift and my aim true. You will feel no pain. Close your eyes. Stop resisting. Sweet slumber awaits,” said Calfuray, the purple slits of her eyes growing wide and narrow.

Von let go. Like a boulder he had been carrying uphill, his resistance tumbled away and he felt an incredible sense of lightness. Calfuray never saw it coming. Those that were there said night turned to day for one brief moment and, as if nature had bowed its head, silence reigned.

“Von, do you read me?” asked Kyra.

“Von, are you okay? Von?”

Von stood, scratching the itch on his head. Pain my arse he thought. I’d still kick Zeke’s butt if he were here. “Kyra, I hear you loud and clear. I’m feeling a little warm but otherwise I think I’ll live. Be there in a sec.”

Categories: Story, Von, Calfuray, Zeke, Kyra

The Fourth Morn


And on the forth morn of the fifth equinox a confrontation of the likes not seen since Dauculus waged in the sky and on the ground. Calfuray had never encountered a Zing Tao. Von had never encountered an assassin the like of Calfuray.

May it be said, may it be written. Fire and water, earth and wind stood aside. Time became wide. Space heated. Rog stirred, Em cried, Shen froze and The Voice smiled.

Categories: Story, Von, Calfuray

Calfuray

“Shen, it appears we have visitors,” said The Voice. Your little project continues to irritate the hellocks out of my dry skin. Do you know what it is like to have an itch but no means to scratch it?”

“No my lord,” replied Shen.

“Fail me on this mission and I will personally make sure you have the opportunity. Is that clear?”

“Yes my lord.”

“Give the assignment to Calfuray. She has my confidence. And Shen? I expect to hear no more of this. Is that understood?”

“Yes my lord.”

Categories: Story, The Voice, Shen, Calfuray