Mixtakitzai Haracar

    The desert came upon Mixta gradually. With each day there were fewer and fewer trees and the air grew drier, until there were no trees, only short plants spotting the ground. Eventually, even those gave way to the sand and sparseness of the desert. She had never seen anything like it in her life. Rolling yellow sand. The air was so dry her skin started to dry out. She would have died from the heat in no time if Joko hadn't shown her how to make a shadow to bathe herself in. It made the heat survivable at least, though it was still unbearable.

    She had found plenty of things to eat up until this point. But now the game was scarce and small when she did manage to find some. After days in the desert she was desperate for water and subsisting on small lizards with rough skin. She had to search for any scraps of plant matter she could find to burn at night when it became freezing. The first night she had not realized it could get cold and she had nearly frozen to death. Progress through the desert was thus slow and laborious.

    She heard the caravan before she saw it. Human voices in some sort of song, though not in a style she had ever heard. She could not determine which direction it was coming from either, it seemed to fill the entire desert. Then she heard a voice in her head "that way". It would not have been very helpful, but as Joko said it, she sensed a direction. She turned that way and she saw the shape on the horizon, shimmering in the heat. it looked like a square. She had no idea what it was or whether it would be friendly or not, but she knew she might die in the desert if she had to continue walking through it herself. She tried to run to it but had no energy, so she kept her pace and held her voice until she would be sure they would hear her.

    As she drew closer, she was approaching it at an angle. It was not one square, but several of them, with large, skinny legged animals in front of them.The singing was stronger now, she wondered if she could yell loud enough for them to hear her over their singing. The boxes on wheels were moving fast, but luckily she was almost approaching them head-on. She was soon within thirty feet of them as they began to pass her. She summoned all of her energy and ran towards them, yelling "Help!" The boxes kept moving, she kept yelling.

    She ran desperately, they were almost past her now. She screamed one last time and fell into the sand. She didn't have the strength to get up. She craned her head to look. They had stopped. A panel slid on the box in the rear and a head popped out. It said something to her, but she had no idea what. She still couldn't get up, but she lifted her arm.The panel slid shut again. Were they going to leave her here? All that effort escaping the jungle and surviving the desert, just to die here.

    "Fool. Get up." said Joko.

    "I can't," she thought.

    She felt his power go through her body. She stood up, a little wobbly. She walked slowly to the rear wagon. She was about to knock on the side of it when another panel, this one large enough for a whole person to fit through, opened outward. The man whose head she had seen stood in the threshold. Mixta exchanged startled looks with him. Then he spoke, again in a language foreign to her.

    "I don't understand. Please, take me to a village." She said, dropping to her knees.

    The man looked at her closely and silently. She must have seemed dead when he looked out at first. Her skin showed her bones underneath and her skin was as dry as the sand around her. She studied the man as well. His skin was lighter than anyone she had seen before. His hair was dark like hers, but short like a child's. He was wrapped up in some sort of fabric. Mixta found this part weirdest of all. She could see none of his skin save for his face and hands. She could only see a small bit of his hair sticking out from under the thing he wore about his head. Most Zumai wore nothing but a loin cloth and jewelry, though some wore clothing they had taken off of people from outside who had the misfortune to wander into their jungle.

    He spoke again, but this time she recognized a single word. "Zumai."

    "Zumai! Zumai!" she said, smiling. The man looked shocked. Perhaps he had never seen anyone like her as well. He backed into the box and closed the big panel.

    "We could kill them and take their box. I am powerful enough to take them all on." said Joko.

    "You are arrogant. And anyways, we need them. We have no idea where we are or how to get out of this desert. We do not know how to make the boxes move either."

    After another period of time, this one longer than the last. The door opened again. This time it was not the man she had seen before. A different man stood there, his face twisted up in anger and disgust. He stared at her for a moment, then stomped off in the sand to a different box. Then the man from before appeared. "Khamat" he said, pointing at his chest. Was it his name? She replied "Mixta" and pointed at herself.

    "Introduce me as well," said a voice in her head.

    "That's not safe."

    The man smiled and stood aside, sweeping his arm into the box. She looked at him curiously, then stepped inside.

    There were benches on either side of the interior, and when the man offered her a seat, she took it. He sat on the other side, next to a woman. She had similar skin and clothes to the man. She did not seem shocked by Mixta. In fact, she barely seemed to notice her at all. She gazed at nothing with a serene smile on her face. The man said something quickly and she looked at him again. She gave him a blank stare. He furrowed his brow and looked pensive for a bit, then his face lit up and he held out one of his hands, pointing at it with the other. He said a word. She held hers out and repeated it. The man smiled again. It was a contagious smile and Mixta returned it. She even saw the woman's mouth slightly rise at the corner.    

    In this manner she learned a few basic words of the language of the people she encountered. They would stop to eat from his stores and he would tell her the names of all the foods. She saw the man who had stormed out a few more times during the journey. He always looked unhappy to see her. Many of the other people travelling in the other wagons also seemed wary of her at best. "Haracar" they called her. Khamat pointed at her skin when she repeated it to her. The couple who had let her in (she had learned they were married), though were always courteous and seemed to delight in her.

---

    The journey was long, Mixta was now sure that the elders were right: this desert never ended but stretched on for the rest of the universe in this direction. It was weeks and weeks and still only desert. She was now able to communicate basic expressions with the "Catarans", as they called themselves. She had learned more complicated things through Khamat drawing them on a fabric that he scratched on to make marks. She was stunned as to how he made images of things. He told her that he was on a pilgrimage, she did not know why, he seemed to have trouble communicating the concept of what his purpose was in the travel.

    One day he confronted her. "You have person in you" he said in his Cataran, simplified for her sake. "I am in me" she said.

    "Another one in you too. From the other place."

    He meant Joko. Joko had become extremely bored with their travels in the caravan. He had remained rather quiet. He would sometimes translate the things that Khamat said. He seemed to pick up the language faster than she did. Now his interest was piqued.

    "He can sense me" Joko said.

    "We can't tell him he's right. They will sacrifice me."

    She was covered in tattoos, but after they had found her Khamat had given her some of his wife's clothes to wear. They were very uncomfortable, but whenever she tried to take them off Khamat told her sternly to keep them on. They made the desert more tolerable, at least. So now her tattoos were covered. She assumed they had not noticed them before she put on the clothes, that was why they had not tried to sacrifice her.

    "You have spirit in you." "What is his name?" Khamat said.

    "Joko?" she said. She realized she had just revealed his existence and became frightened.

    "No spirit! None!"

    "Why are you frightened?" Khamat said. "To find your spirit is great. It is the goal."

    "You kill me now!" she said. "You kill me for spirit."

    It took an hour for Khamat to convince her that she would not be killed. The Catarans viewed the union of a spirit and person to be a religious aim, the ultimate goal in life. Khamat said he still had not gone on his pilgrimage. He had become too attached to the world: his business, his wife. He couldn't find the will to abandon them to search for his spirit.

    "I will have another chance." He said, and gave a smile that did not quite seem happy.

    After this, word spread and the other Catarans grew much more interested in her. They congratulated her and asked her questions about Joko which she could hardly understand. It grew so bad that Khamat had to chase them off to give them some peace. For the first time since she had left to hunt that morning, she felt happy.

--Tufar, Catar--

---

    The past three years had been defined by hard work. She had come to Tufar with a pittance and thus was forced to work for the scholar, whose name was Talha, in payment for not only her apprenticeship, but also room and board. For most of the first year, she did not learn very much, instead spending most of her time running errands.

    He would not even remove the binding and weakening runes at the beginning, he felt she would not be ready to handle Joko's full power or control him if he was free. This made Joko very angry. For weeks, he fumed, telling Mixta to kill Talha in his sleep and steal his books. She fought him, and eventually convinced him to cease, but at times she felt a pull from his suggestions.

    Talha taught her not only about runes, but about the binders as well. Mixta felt she had finally found her purpose. She would kill all those binders. Even though her primary hatred was for those hunters who forcibly bound humans and their ilk, it extended to all binders, even willing ones, perhaps influenced by Joko's feelings on the matter.

    One by one, Talha showed her how to remove the weakening tattoos. Then she would learn to control the new amount of power and move on to the next one when she was ready. With every removal, she feared Joko would show his true nature and attempt to dominate her or escape and kill them. But whether through her willpower, or whether she was mistaken about him, the removals all went smoothly on Joko's part.

    Then Talha told her she should make a familiar. Most Catar did pacts without familiars for religious reasons, however, neither Mixta nor Talha were very religious. Talha insisted it was the more efficient method of pact and would not teach her further until she consented. This was the hardest thing she had to do under the scholar's training. Even though he assured her she would still retain some of Joko's power, she worried she would lose it and be defenseless.

    Joko and Talha's continued insistence forced her to cave. When it was done, there was Joko in front of her, in a form much like the wispy, shadowy cat he had appeared as before her when they first met, though considerably smaller.

    "I feel weird," he said, the voice was still mostly in her head, but it felt different now, more separate. Mixta agreed with his sentiment. After so many years living with another presence sharing her mind and body, to be removed even to this relatively small degree made her feel weak and alone. She still retained some of his power, she could tell. For all she knew, it could be more than when they had first been bound, since now the tattoos which weakened his powers had all been removed. Joko apparently felt similar, though when she touched on the topic he would haughtily deny it. But wherever she went, he was close behind, even if she told him not to follow her.

---

    Mixta was not the fastest learner and eventually both her patience with the material and Talha's patience with her were wearing thin. She knew she had stayed here long here enough. Talha was kind but not very heartbroken to see her go. He gave her a gift of a few of his books, which she added to the small collection she had built up along with her tools.

    She had thought long about where she would go. Though she wanted to return to the jungles that were her home, she knew she would have little chance of finding the men who she specifically sought revenge on, if she would even recognize them. They could even be dead. Zumai life was harsh. She also would have few advantages against her kin in the jungles. Thus she would aim her vengeance elsewhere.

    Samar was the place she had chosen. The Faloran Republic was a more ripe target as far as binders went, but it would also be more difficult to do her work in. It was also much further away and with fewer potential allies. She told Talha where she was going but not why. She had told no one why. Of course he might have drawn conclusions from the very fact that she had the binding tattoos, but they never discussed her past. Regardless, he told her where she could buy a camel, and she began her trip from Tufar to Cutho.

---

    The trip was not near as hard as when she had first fled the jungles into the Cataran desert. Now she was leaving it, and the land only grew greener and easier to traverse as she progressed. She was able to trade her camel for a horse in a village near the border of the desert. It would be much more suited to the new terrain.

    She made sure to follow Talha's warning and skirt well to the south of Shaho. The war was still ongoing and that city was currently at the front of it. Although it was significantly closer than Cutho, she needed a far more stable place to make her base of operations. Talha had also told her to only speak Catar, at least until she got a better grasp of Faloran. He had managed to teach her a small amount, because many important books about runes were written in that language. However, he said she should never speak Zumai. A Zumai would be conspicuous and possibly draw negative attention. She could pass for a dark Cataran. Though most were paler than her, she had seen people with a similar tone to hers while she had lived in Catar. Her wardrobe helped complete the ruse.

    When she reached Cutho, the mood was tense from the beginning. There were guards from the Dominion everywhere, and she was constantly being stopped and searched and questioned as she moved through the town. Luckily all of her binding tattoos were long since removed. Had she still had them, she likely would have been arrested or worse, even with an obvious familiar.

    It did not help that she could not speak Faloran well. When she finally found an inn, it took half an hour to work out the room with the owner. She sold her house, then returned to the inn, had a meal, then collapsed in her bed.

    The chimaera was accumulating a pool of blood around its feet. Most of the people were running out of the market now. Mixta stuck to the walls and pushed against the crowd to enter it. She moved quickly but unnoticeably, keeping her eyes on the monstrosity at all times, until she reached a market stall to hide behind and get a better look at the thing.

    Three people were already lying dead next to the chimaera. As she watched, a fourth one, this one a guard, fell to the ground next to them. There were another four guards still standing trying to kill the beast. She did not dare enter the fray. It was too deadly and would draw unwanted attention. Instead, she remained in her hiding spot and called upon Joko's powers.

    "Put them to sleep perhaps?"

    She liked the idea. She sent out a cloud of sleeping gas into the market area. Everyone in the center collapsed, save for one guard, and more importantly, the chimaera. The chimaera began to devour the defenseless guards. The wake one turned and fled.

    "Oops."

    Luckily, she had not attracted its attention. She wondered if she could get its attention and draw it away somewhere to trap it. It looked fast, however, much faster than her. More people had fled the area now, and she could hear reinforcements off in the distance. She needed some breathing room. She retreated back away from the mark into a side road and watched from the safe point. Some men with crossbows showed up, but they were fairly ineffective against the hulking hybrid. As they loosed their bolts, it charged towards them.

    Mixta thought hard. Her sleep spell didn't have much effect, and she couldn't close in for a kill safely. It was too bright outside to try and sneak up. She realized she didn't need to kill it outright though. If she could render it harmless first, it would be much easier. She remembered the tattoos on it, the ones binding the spirit to the body. There some others too, they seemed to be causing fear to the spirit. They were probably what was causing it to rampage through the city.

She just needed to destroy the runes. She could throw her knife, but it was quite a distance, and even if she hit one, there were others. While she was thinking, more guards were dying. As one crossbowman's lifeless body struck the ground with a sickening thud, two of his brethren turned tail and ran from the square. The chimaera wasn't keeping up with them, though. It seemed it was wearing down. Now was her chance. She tried her sleep gas again, getting near enough to be effective. The guards around it fell asleep instantly, but the chimaera still stood.

    "Seriously?" She thought.

    But the chimaera was frozen still. It swayed, then fell to one knee. It was not quite out, but it was nearly there. It would have to be enough. She crept towards it, though making sure not to move too slow; she could hear more guards approaching and would rather not have her work seen by them.

    With each step she felt more nervous that it would rouse and put its fist trough her gut, but it never did. As she got close enough to touch it, it slowly turned its head towards her. It barely had its eyes open, but what she saw of them conveyed fear and exhaustion. Then it fell over, curling into a ball. There was more blood around it now, some of it its own. She slid her knife out of it sheath and stabbed the main tattoo. The chimaera's body quivered and it let out a groan. Then she destroyed the other runes, and a spirit flew out of the body, it screams fading with its presence as it escaped, to where who knew. She took a quick glance around, some people were still in the market, circled around the edges. They began to cheer. The vessel lay dead.

    "Well done." said Joko.

    She ignored him and quickly carved out the skin which held the main rune. She did so surreptitiously, the onlookers would not have even seen her hands move, nor her knife. She slipped it into a pocket inside her cloak and stood.

    "Not a second to spare." She thought. One of the guards next to her was coming to, rubbing his eyes out.

    "We could kill him too."

    "Save it."

    She pulled her cloak and hood tighter about her body and quickly left the area. When she returned to the inn, she feigned ignorance of the news of the event to the innkeeper and made for her room as soon as she could get out of the conversation. Then she spread out her tools and got ready to prepare the skin. It was monotonous work, and she was already worn out, but she finished her task before allowing herself to rest.

Mixta's quest for information began. She started with a search for street urchins. Her master Talha had once passed on advice that if she was ever in a precarious situation and needed something subtle done in a city, the street rascals were always a good bet. A dirty child picked hopped along the cobbles just outside the room she was staying in. With a hiss and a gesture, she brought the child over. In painfully broken Faloran, she hacked out a sentence.
"Say, boy. Copper piece. Your name on it, if happen you know about the tattooed mysterious man. Near blacksmith's house."

The child blinked in a confused fashion. Seconds later, his mother came and dragged him away by the ear, cursing about filthy foreigners abducting the good children of Cutho.

What was that about, Mixta? Joko sighed into her mind. Tahla was not being serious. It's an old joke from the cities.

Her next bet was her innkeeper, but he regarded her suspiciously. He ceased what he was doing, leaned over the table and looked her square in the eyes.
"Listen, lady. First of all, it's obvious you're not from Catar. I've heard you speak the nomad tongue, and you don't speak it well. Besides, I've got Catar blood in me, and I know what somebody from Catar looks like."

Taken aback, Mixta grimaced, panic creeping into the back of her mind.

"Second." the innkeeper continued, rubbing his chin. "I don't actually care who you are or where you come from. But if you're going to be sneaking around, acting all suspicious and asking suspicious questions, you're going to get into trouble. I'm betting it was you that killed the chimera. In which case, I'm grateful. Somebody I know was torn apart by that beast. So Cutho owes you."

Mixta ended up with her back to the wall, the portly innkeeper advancing on her. He held up three fingers.
"And third, if you killed that chimera, I figure whoever you're looking for is a bad man. So why don't I give you a drink on the house, you pull up a chair, and we talk. You tell me who you really are."

He put his hand over hers, in a gesture of comfort and friendship.
"It is good to hear you slay binders and their ilk. I am Imar. My father was a nomad from Catar. He fled the desert to start a more comfortable life here in the steppes. My dear old mother is Samari. She has a house not far from here. I spent most of my life fighting as a soldier for the Dominion. I was a pacter. But my spirit was taken from me in the battle for Shaho, a couple of years ago. The trauma made me useless to the army, so I came here to where my mother lived, and started this inn."

"I am sorry to hear about your spirit." Mixta answered. "I cannot imagine what that must be like-"

"I hope you never have to find out." Imar interrupted her, his eyes closed. "My spirit was taken from me by a binder. That is why I will help you. Binders have been harassing us since the fall of Tikong. Many Samari refuse to accept change, but they are hypocrites, because they defile their own traditions by becoming binders. They don't understand the Dominion. They're afraid of it. And they will do anything they can to destroy it."

There was silence for a while, until eventually Imar piped up, turning his head towards the window.
"I don't know who the man you seek is. But if you don't want to alert the authorities, well, when I was in the army, we had a trick for killing binders. We had an old runecrafter who used to make these bolts for our crossbows. The crossbows and bolts would have special runes - runes for drain and store, so they could drain the magic of binders, and store it. I have one of those old crossbows and around five bolts I took back with me from the war. I can give them to you, and you can maybe copy the runes too."

Winter 2485.
February.
Cutho.

Using the cellar of the inn, Imar began to show Mixta how to use the crossbow, setting up random targets. It was a large weapon that would probably be burdensome in certain situations, and required more time than a bow to reload, but it was devastating against its targets. The force of the bolts it fired exceeded Mixta's expectations.

"You're going to need a cover story, especially if you carry that thing around." Imar thought, while using the crossbow's lever to set the bowstring against the latch, primed for another shot. "Something respectable, like a mercenary. You could even say you are an exile of the Yotur, perhaps."

"Thank you for your assistance, Imar." a voice rose from the floorboards. Mixta and Imar looked down, to see the shadowy cat-like form of Joko sitting and looking up.

"It is an honour to work against the binders." Imar stated, flourishing a bow.

Mixta could feel that Joko was disturbed, however.

How can they rip a spirit from someone? How did they take Imar's familiar?

If the Zumai could bind you to me, I'm sure there's people out there who know how to do the opposite, Joko.

"Well, I think it's time for supper. And from the sound of it, I've got some patrons waiting on me upstairs."

-

After supper, Mixta and Joko dared go out into the streets of Cutho once more. They circled towards the home where they had found the binder, to stake him out and gather information about him. The streets were empty, and a cold wind swept through the city as they passed through it. Samar was unkind in winter.

The binder's home had light coming from a single window, and there was the sound of talking coming from inside. Watching from an alley, Mixta contemplated her next move.