The Temple of Masters

          Though expertly executed, her infiltration of the Temple of the Masters was taking far too long.
         Her talent was shown as she maneuvered past guards, not even a mere whisper of footsteps or a rustle of fabrics. She moved unnoticed behind massive pillars supporting exquisite carvings towering far in the air. The guttering of torches set along the walls at even intervals and the measured footsteps of guards produced the only present sound.
         Unlike most who attempted passage into the forbidden temple, though, her entry did not require an increasing body count to measure her progress.
         “Mea, c’mon Mea, think about this now. You don’t have time for this.” Mea chided herself, thinking. “I’ve no choice; sentiment for these men cannot cause this mission to fail.” Mea stiffened her resolve, and sprinted quickly ahead, finally abandoning her stealth. She had not planned for the miles of twisting tunnels and misleading offshoots this maze of a temple had provided, but now she no longer cared.
Though elite, the trained, heavily armed guards could not detect the passage of spirit walker who wished to remain hidden. Much as would a wisp of harmless smoke, they can move soundlessly towards their goal. But, even spirit walkers cannot remain invisible while sprinting headlong through the Temple of Masters.
         “Hey, over there!” a guard shouted to his fellows, pointing to his right, towards Mea. Weapons, ever-present and ever-ready, sprang to fists.
          “Halt, in the name of the Order of the Sword!” More shouts, commands for ranks to be formed, to call in reinforcements, to ready weapons for this sudden threat. Swordsmen leaped to the fore, and crossbowman to the rear. Shields overlapped; bows cocked.
          Mea did not slow her inexorable progress inwards. She did not slow her gliding gait as she approached more than a dozen men forming defensive ranks as precisely as any military squadron. Her hands were rock steady as she balled them into fists at her sides. She proudly stood tall and swept her raptor gaze past each man before her.
“Stand aside if you value your lives and sanctity of that which you protect. Evil descends upon you this very hour, and I will not hesitate to unleash deadly force upon any who attempt to prevent my advancement. I am a spirit walker. I come to protect the sword. I will give no further warning; heed it, or die.”
          Eyes widened. Some quailed silently, looking to the left and right, as if for some miraculous escape route. None was found.
The commander stepped forward, leveling his sword at Mea’s heart. His deep voice boomed out, commanding and mocking. “Our duty is to protect the sword from any who would attempt to steal it. Your threats will not dissuade us from our sworn duty.”
          “So be it.” Mea’s hands drew together as she focused her energies on a spot between her two palms. Her eyes, now completely white, peered at the spot. She bent over her hands. She began to slowly move her hands apart, a blinding pinprick of light growing in size. As it grew between her palms, her body shook with the raw power of the energies it channeled, focused into one intense globe of white.
          Her eyes widened and she threw her head back and suddenly straightened, flinging her hands apart and away form herself, towards the ranks staring in shock in their last few moments of life on this world.
          Sword and mail, leather and flesh; nothing withstood the onslaught of light. The blinding beam separated into individual sparks of massive life energy and shredded all before it.
Perforated husks that were only instants before filled with the lives of men crumpled. They were dead long before they met the floor.
          Mea relaxed her straining muscles as a glowing aura surrounded her. She was channeling her power now, consumed by the need of it. Her mind now showed its dominance over matter, controlled simply by the power of decision.
          As she glided ahead, she concentrated to keep her focus, her control over the ability. Once channeling power, a spirit walker must always remain focused. Uncontrolled power would just as soon tear her apart as it would follow her command.
          “I cannot stop now. The sword is near, and time is close.” Mea strengthened her resolve as she charged ahead, now an unstoppable force with a mission. “The sword must be protected at all costs."
          The rising sun outside turned the clouds scarlet. Deep purples, reds, and oranges surrounded the brightening dusk just now creeping over the horizon as the town’s residents began the daily routine. The history books would show that this day would not be but another repetition of those before it, however.
          Some of the more experienced residents gazed at the sky, their thoughts put into careful words: “Such clouds are an ill omen. Only days of death are heralded in with death’s colors.” The last was said with grim expressions and darker inflection: “Blood will flow this day.”
          She was nearing her goal. Time was of the essence, the critical moment near at hand. Mea flew through the passages now, meeting little resistance. She spread like the plague, swiftly eliminating anyone in her way. The mission was all important. These poor souls’ lives were a small price to pay for the lives she would spare with her forthright actions here and now.
She was consumed with this thought, keeping it to the fore of her mind. Guilt was bypassed, fear cast aside. She felt only her sense of duty and the fact that right was on her side. Power emanated from her being, pulsated through her veins, flowed through her lungs, stimulated her brain. She was a spirit walker, the last of the nigh-extinct race of protectors, and she was on a mission.
          A massive door loomed ahead, its sheer bulk intimidating. Mea paused. She felt something beyond the door, something more than human. Something powerful. She felt the heat of sword auras, indicative of another member of the ancient gifted race of protectors.
          The doors slowly parted. This was not of Mea’s doing, however. Someone on the inside must have released the ancient locks.
Before her stood three powerful men clad in leather armor and chain mail, for flexibility. These were not the ordinary guards they appeared, however. These men were the source of the sword auras.
          “Mea,” said the man in the middle quietly, “why have you done this?”
          “Jon,” Mea said, “you already know the answer to that question. The council has made its decision. You know why I had to come.”
Mea knew these men, of course. The one in the middle was her brother, and the others his partners-in-skill.
          Jon frowned slightly at her. “How can you allow a nightmare to guide you in such rash action? You have already killed dozens of my men. How could you? The council has the good of the people in mind, and I can’t allow you to do this.” He raised his sword and assumed a defensive posture, anger coming to his eyes. “I will not allow you to take matters into your own hands like this. You will pay for your crimes of this day. I will see to it myself if necessary, and I won’t hesitate to use my powers to stop you.”
          Mea’s expression saddened. “I expected no less from you, brother. You honor your duty above all others. Though I haven’t said it, I have always admired you for this,” Mea’s resolve hardened, and she stood tall, “but I refuse to blindly follow the council. It has grown corrupt and complacent, and I cannot allow them to simply hand over the Sword of Ages to these strange men who have come into our land and butchered our people. You cannot stop evil with appeasement, or only anguish and loss of life will result. I must do this, Jon.” This last was said in her spirit walker’s voice - commanding and full of threat: “Now, please, stand aside.”
          In response, the other two sword auras raised their swords to begin the attack. No compromise was possible, it seemed, and the future outcome of thousands was at stake.
          “Raaaah!” the left guard screamed as he dove at Mea with a broad overhead stroke with enough force behind it to slice her in half. Mea’s eyes glowed blinding white as she raised one hand up high, fingers spread apart, palm outward. The sword struck an invisible barrier only inches from her hand and rebounded forcefully, throwing the man back. A deafening blast of sound echoed around the vast chamber and dust sifted from the ceiling once again.
         Jon sidestepped his reeling comrade and grabbed the guard on the right. He yelled in his ear over the din, “Circle around behind her – we have to get past the shield!”
         The guard nodded and, too late, tried to dive out of the way of a finger-sized jolt of energy as Mea whipped her free hand around in a sweeping arc. Jon whipped his sword up in a blur and sliced through the bolt, but not before the man crumpled to the floor, gasping for breath.
“Give it up, Jon. I have spared you and your men from the full wrath of my powers, but I will not hesitate to terminate you all if necessary to get the sword. Do not throw away your lives for those stinking pigs on the council!”
         Jon tumbled off to Mea’s left behind a decorative fountain just as Mea threw a fist toward him. Another echoing blast filled the room as the huge chunks of floor were gouged out and the edge of a decorative fountain exploded toward the far wall.
         “Jon! Evil approaches our precious city – I know you have felt it too! You must survive to protect it when the time comes! I must get this sword away from here before they arrive, it must by why they have come.
         The first guard who had attacked suddenly jumped at her from behind. Mea twisted around and grabbed the man sword arm as he lunged for her, doing his best to impale her. She used his own momentum to throw him over her hip. As he flew threw the air, Mea sent a jolt of energy into him, launching him at Jon who had just stepped out from behind the pillar.
         They went down in a heap with a sickening crunch of bones. Mea didn’t know if they had survived, but could not risk a check. She quickly crossed the distance to the pedestal where the Sword of Ancients floated in the air, incased in a beam of light from overhead.