Mwanza POV
Mwanza Hachibambo leaned his head against the cool, vibrating window of the train carriage, the rhythmic click-clack of the undercarriage a lullaby he hadn't heard in years. Beyond the reinforced glass, the landscape of Driagan province blurred as a never green sea of farmland went on before giving transforming to verdant savannah land and then, abruptly, the landscape soured. Patches of barren, purple-tinged earth appeared, stark scars fenced off behind gleaming Blue Copper barriers.
"The Blight Field." Mwanza whispered as he looked at the curse on the land left by those creatures, those Night Terrors of campfire stories had left thirty years ago before being driven off back to their hell.
He had always heard that the Night Terrors carried with them a touch that cursed the land and mortals alike, but he had never seem it. His parents had made sure of that, thus the the irony wasn't lost on him; this forced exile, this act of supreme control, was finally granting him a glimpse of the very horrors they'd hidden him from.
Hungrily, he drank in the sight from his perch aboard the metal behemoth. It snaked across the sky forty meters above the blighted ground, thousands of tons of steel kept afloat by humming, enchanted Blue Copper arrays woven into its structure.
A dizzying, almost frantic desire tightened its grip around Mwanza's chest. An urge to shatter the window, to leap out and feel that cursed earth beneath his hands. He pressed his palm flat against the glass, the intrusive thought slithering into his mind. "What would happen if I just let my Mwari loose right now?"
"Don't." a single voice instantly drew him from his musings.
Seated opposite from the young prince in this carriage compartment was Erik. He had changed from sparring gear into his formal Asikari uniform. The deep blue camouflage, segmented by silvered plates on his shoulders, forearms, and shins, and the breastplate bearing the golden eagle emblem, lent him an unfamiliar austerity. A matching beret sat squarely on his head, another eagle pinned to its fabric with a light blue scarf draped neatly around his neck. Mwanza privately thought the Mushirikari uniforms had more flair, but he wouldn't dare voice that opinion because nearly every palace guard wore Asikari blue.
"Don't what?" Mwanza asked, feigning innocence.
Erik sighed, the sound heavy with resignation. "Don't do anything foolish. You get that look in your eye. It's always there right before you decide to do something... spectacularly ill-advised."
Mwanza scoffed and looked back into the window where though dull, he could see a young man of brown skin and golden eyes looking back at him.
"You shouldn't be so upset with your parents." Erik continued gently. "They just want what is best for you. "
Mwanza felt a prickle of irritation like a needle being driven into his temple, he resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he looked at Erik. The Asikari had known him for years now, he had been his occasional guard and if anyone should know just how suffocating his parents were, it should be him.
"I am not upset with them." He sullenly responded. He wondered what Erik wanted from him, did he want Mwanza to scream in frustration, to pound his fist in protest or to simply be so overjoyed in being treated like a pet.
"Now that's a bold-faced lie." Erik snorted, a flicker of their usual banter surfacing. "Look, I get why you're upset. I am sorry it came across harshly. Your parents… well, they can be intense. But they've sacrificed so much for you, Mwanza. They would do anything."
"I keep telling you all – I'm fine!" Mwanza snapped, the frustration finally bubbling over.
"I know." Erik conceded, sounding weary. "I just thought… maybe you needed someone to acknowledge it."
Erik's attempt at empathy hooked something inside Mwanza.
"Acknowledge what? That they sacrifice things for a son they won't let live? They keep me locked away like some embarrassing secret. My 'friends' are the carefully vetted, power-hungry psychopathic children of their ministers. They won't even tell me why I'm being shipped off in secret! Ishtar doesn't get this! She's Crown Princess, serving proudly with the Mushirikari out there! Why am I different? Why is nothing I ever do good enough?" He jabbed a finger towards the window. "They kept me from seeing things like that," he gestured towards the receding Blight Fields, "and now they send me through it without a word of explanation!"
"That's not exactly fair." Erik tried to argue when a sudden jolt struck the carriage and threw everyone forward. Mwanza gripped the seat, his Mwari sparking instinctively in his fingertips, a sharp burning heat that dissipated as quickly as it appeared.
"Damn it." he muttered, in-between blowing upon his aching fingers. "What was that."
Outside, the blurred landscape became a static image as the train slowed unexpectedly, grinding to a halt with a screech of metal. Mwanza and Erik locked eyes in equal parts suprise and dread. The Asikari rose from his seat and reached for their compartment's door.
"Stay here, I will try and see what caused that."
"Are you serious?" Mwanza leaped to his feet.
"My job is to protect you, Mwanza."
"And your job gets easier if we stick together." Mwanza argued, thumping his chest perhaps a bit too dramatically. "Besides, I've beaten you in spars before, haven't I?"
"I always hold back," Erik retorted, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips despite the tension.
"Sure you did," Mwanza shot back, a grin touching his own face. "Little secret, Erik? So do I."
XXXXOOOOXXXXX
Their train carriage was a den of chaos, every compartment was open and it's occupants had poured out to try and figure out what in heavens name was going on.
"What's going on?" a portly man in a travel cloak grumbled.
"Probably interface from the Blight Fields." a woman with a stack of crates sighed. "Happens more often nowadays."
"Could be bandits." a man behind them whispered to his companion. "I have been in Blight Field disruptions, this isn't it."
"Robert, stop being paranoid!" his companion quietly hissed, though they didn't sound so convinced.
Mwanza's hand instinctively went to the small, concealed knife strapped to his forearm. A concession Justinian had insisted upon, despite his parents' disapproval. A prickle of unease started at the base of his neck.
Ahead of him Erik's hand was resting so firmly on the pummel of his sword that his knuckles turned white. The paranoid passenger, Robert, suddenly noticed Erik's uniform, his eyes widening.
"An Asikari!" he breathed. "Sir, do you know what's happening? I don't think..."
"Leave him alone, Robert!" his companion tried to tug him back.
Then came the sound that cut through the mundane complaints, a sharp crack, like thunder directly overhead, followed by the tearing shriek of metal. A collective gasp went through the passengers.
CRASH!
Something slammed into the side of the carriage with brutal force. The train tilted violently, throwing people from their feet. The steel door to the carriage groaned and buckled inwards before it was torn from its frame with a shriek of tormented metal.
A young man stumbled through the ragged opening, collapsing onto the floor, desperately clutching an oddly shaped silver box. Four figures followed him, silhouettes cloaked in black, their faces hidden behind identical crimson masks. They moved with chilling, brutal efficiency. One lunged, grabbing the fallen man, trying to wrench the box from his grasp.
The young man reacted instantly. Using the attacker's momentum, he twisted, executing a perfect judo flip that sent the cloaked figure sailing twelve meters down the carriage to crash against a compartment wall. Spinning, he lashed out with a back kick aimed at a second attacker. The blow was blocked with a forearm, but the impact unleashed a visible shockwave that warped the steel floor beneath them.
Another one of the cloaked strangers weaved their Mwari and the smell of ozone instantly filled the air as an arch of lightning burst from their hands and struck the young man, launching him upon his back, twitching and smoking.
That finally broke the dam. Panic erupted. Screams echoed off the metal walls as passengers scrambled for cover, some fumbling to lock compartment doors, others instinctively weaving shimmering Mwari shields of varying elements.
""Stop this, now!" Erik's voice rang out, sharp and authoritative. He drew his sword, Mwari flaring along the blade, igniting it in steady, controlled flames.
"Why is there an Asikari here?" one of the attackers – a woman, judging by her voice – snapped at the tallest of their group.
"Doesn't matter," the tall one growled back. "We can take him."
"I didn't sign up for fighting Asikari!" the female attacker retorted, but took a step forward. Weaving her Mwari, four dull grey stones floated from beneath her cloak, hovering for a split second before launching themselves at Erik like cannonballs.
Erik batted the first stone aside contemptuously with his flaming sword, the impact ringing like a hammer blow. But the movement left him momentarily open. The tall attacker, fists now wreathed in fire, lunged. Erik met the charge, catching the man's wrists with surprising ease, but the sheer force of the impact sent him sliding backward until he slammed into a metal compartment wall, buckling it inward.
"Erik!" Mwanza shouted rushing towards his friend, the female attacker weaved her stones and sent them at Mwanza like bullets.
The supersonic projectiles shrieking barely an inch above his head, close enough to feel the displaced air ruffle his hair. He came up running, reaching the melee just as Erik parried another flaming fist. Mwanza launched himself forward, driving his knee into the tall attacker's side with a sickening crunch.
The man gasped and crumpled. Mwanza turned to Erik, a triumphant grin spreading across his face. "Looks like I just saved you."
"I had him handled." Erik grunted, pushing himself off the dented wall.
"Did you? Did you really?" Mwanza countered with a grin.
Their spat ended before it could begin when the remaining attackers fell upon their victim recovering from his electrocution. Two held down whilst the female tried to pry the silver box from his grip, cursing and spitting throughout the attempt.
"Let him go!" Erik roared as he swung his blade letting forth a torrent of flame that finally sent people rushing out of the carriage.
Another cloaked figure , the one who'd used lightning, countered instantly, weaving a compressed sphere of air that met the fire head-on, dispersing it in a turbulent burst of heat and wind. Mwanza rushed forward again, ignoring the stab of envy at the controlled display of power. He could never manage such finesse, the mere thought sent familiar phantom pains shooting through his limbs.
As he closed the distance, the fourth attacker, previously unnoticed, unleashed a searing Mwari thread of hot ash, which Mwanza barely evaded, though stray embers kissed his exposed skin, eliciting a hiss of pain.
For this fire weaver he threw a jab and headkick to the head that sent them to the ground, the metallic floor groaned from the dent formed.
The female drew a stone from her cloak and tried to launch it again but the stone shattered as a thousand roots erupted from it like the quils of a porcupine. That distraction was all the young man needed as with a grunt of effort and a weave of his own Mwari, roots the size of a man's waist burst from the carriage floor, slamming into the female attacker and sending her flying.
The last conscious attacker turned towards the now-freed young man, but Mwanza was already there. The attacker threw wild punches, but their movements were sloppy, lacking the trained precision Mwanza recognized from sparring. A targeted kick crippled the attacker's knee and Mwanza followed with a feint to the body before flowing into a spinning elbow that stunned them, and he finished them with a heavy overhand right that with a crunch floored them.
"You okay?" Mwanza said as he helped the young man to his feet.
He was shorter than Mwanza with brown skin a peculiar type hair. On one side it was scarlet red and the other side black, a fashion type that last Mwanza had heard the people of the High Veld province loved. Not that he could tell, he had never much encountered those people so much to know the truth.
"I am fine." he took a deep breath to regain his bearing. "Who are you, why are you helping me?"
"I am Mwanza and I figure..." he gestured at the attacker's who got onto their feet. "These aren't your friends."
"No, they tried to attack and rob me of this. " he gestured to the silver box in his hand. "I am Hamanymu Mulengu by the way."
"Pleas..." Mwanza paused when he heard a loud shriek. A familiar shriek, he turned in time to see Erik slamp to the ground, the tall attacker standing upon him with Erik's own bloodied blade in his grip.
His blood ran cold, rage rose like a cobra. He ngashed is teeth as his body shook from the Mwari within, that blizzard which threatened to rip through flesh itself. He roared, a guttural sound of fury and grief, and charged. Thought, training, reason were all obliterated by a black wave of rage.
The tall attacker saw him coming and had already weaved threads of fire to meet the charge. But Mwanza wasn't thinking straight, otherwise he would never have reached inside himself and yanked hard on those frigid, forbidden chains of his Mwari.
Instead of a focused blast of ice, an arctic tempest detonated from his outstretched hands. It wasn't weaving, it was rupture. A maelstrom of annihilating cold, hurricane-force winds, and razor-sharp ice shards dense enough to shred steel tore through the carriage. Half the structure simply disintegrated in a blinding flash of white and blue.
Agony exploded through Mwanza's body, consuming every nerve. He felt a sickening lurch as the explosion ripped the floor out from under everyone remaining, sending bodies tumbling into the open air. The world dissolved into a vortex of pain, the roar of the wind, and the scream of dying metal. Darkness rushed in, smothering his senses long before his body hit the unforgiving earth below.