Fury of Fire

[Rhonya]

In the darkness of the night, nothing much was visible. Guards had their watch fires, their torches, casting ominous moving shadows on the ground due to the flames, but furthermore everything was dark. One shape clad in a simple robe made its way past the edge of camp, sharing some words with one of the guards as it passed them. The guard nodded and called in some of his comrades, who followed the dark shape and accompanied it to a place on the cliffs, where they kept watch on it, but kept a respectful distance.

The figure moved silently on bare feet in the snow and the cold stone, apparently ignoring the cold, or it simply didn’t feel it. A small fire was lit, and the shape became more recognizable. Black hair framed her face and blue eyes looked determined as she continued her work, drawing markings on the black stone with a piece of white chalk. Her robe was thin, not very protective against the cold wind up on the cliffs, but she didn’t tremble, she didn’t falter. This was something she had to push through.

Rhonya spread out some items she’d brought along across the circle, surrounding the fire she’d made. A rock with a feather under it, her ritual bone dagger, a waterskin and some closed jars. She looked around the circle, nodding to herself in satisfaction as she took position next to the fire, in the middle of the circle. A low chanting started under her breath as she closed her eyes, rocking back and forth a little for a while.

After a short time she opened her eyes again and started to talk, the words loud and clear, carried on a little on the wind that whipped around her, making her robe move around her legs.
“Honored spirit of Air, I call on you tonight. I ask for your blessing, your wrath and your speed in this time of revenge, of war.”

Rhonya turned a little, picking up the feather, letting the wind carry it off. She spoke again, not waiting for a reaction, not even sure if the spirit heard her, or understood her. But she had to try.
“Honored spirit of Earth, I call on you tonight. I ask for your blessing, your strength and your stubbornness, to help the tribe in these times.”

Her form moved to one of the jars, letting the wind carry away what was inside, earth spilled down the side of the cliffs.

“Honored spirit of water, I call on you tonight. I ask for your blessing, your calm to do what is needed, your soothing touch, to help us in these times.”
Picking up the waterskin, she poured the water down as well, not waiting for an answer again. She just continued, her eyes determined and clear.

“But above all, I call on the spirit of Fire. Honored spirit, hear my plea. Hear my call for help. Fill me with your anger, your determination, burn away my worry and my fears, and help me achieve my goal tomorrow.” She stepped closer to the fire, picking up her ritual dagger, slashing it roughly across her bare lower arm. Rhonya didn’t even flinch, just let the steady stream of blood drip into the fire.

“I swear to you on my blood, on my honor to always respect your strength, your fury. Help me now, and I’ll be in your debt. This I swear as shaman, as orc, as Rhonya Steelheart, with all my being!”
For a few moments everything was silent as she stood there in her simple thin robe, the wind messing up her hair, her arm outstretched and bleeding above the fire. The only sound was the blood hissing as it met with the burning flames. All of a sudden though, the fire roared up, right in front of her face. Rhonya stood her ground, didn’t flinch, didn’t step back. She tilted her head, narrowing her eyes, facing the flames without any trace of fear.
A voice filled her. Not spoken out loud, but she could hear it anyway, resonating through her whole being, burning hot and sharp.

"Finally you’ve learned, little shaman. Finally you dared to speak to me completely, to reach out and embrace the anger and the fury. You’ve been your own blockade in this before, refusing to understand. I will help you. But your trust may never waver, or I might turn my attention elsewhere, little one… Hold your arm in the fire.”

Rhonya closed her eyes, inhaling deeply before she opened them again. She responded with a nod to the voice, looking straight into the flames again that roared so close to her, but didn’t hurt her. She moved her arm straight into the flames without any trace of hesitation without any trace of fear.

Pain burned on her arm and she couldn’t help but flinch, but she didn’t pull her arm away. The wound began to sizzle, the flesh nearly bubbling in the heat, as if it was melting away. As fast as the pain began, it stopped again, and when she pulled her arm back, only a long, red burn scar was what was left of the wound she had made.

“Let this be a reminder of our bond. One you made in blood, little shaman. I will hold you to it. Fury be on your side.”

Rhonya responded to the voice with clear words. “Gratitude, spirit. I won’t break my word.”
The fire in front of her roared up once more, surrounding her completely now for just a second. It didn’t hurt, it felt more like a warm embrace, a caress with a sharp edge, a teasing gesture. Within seconds the entire fire died, not even coals burning anymore, the fireplace as cold as if it had never even been lit.
Rhonya exhaled finally, allowing herself to relax a little, clenching one hand. She’d done it… she’d made good contact with at least one of the elements, one she could use to free her tribemembers the next day. To free her mate, her life, her heart. She wouldn’t disappoint him. Her anger was deep, her worries gone.

Rhonya would have her revenge.