Of a Mystical Portal and Evil Sorcerers

“Well, this one is a bit scrawny, though she’s attractive enough. It’s a start,” the leader said, eying Amara as if she were a piece of meat he was looking to devour, making her scrunch her nose up, feeling physically ill at the scrutiny.
“I’m afraid you misunderstand. I’m not here for you. I’m here to retrieve him,” she said, her tone hard, as she pointed at the unconscious man at their feet.
The leader raised an eyebrow before bursting into laughter, his men quickly joining him with their own guffaws. Despite expecting such a reaction, she couldn’t help but feel her resolve weaken a bit. What was she doing? She couldn’t hope to win in her condition. Honestly, she didn’t have any hope of taking these men on when she wasn’t in this condition. Glancing skyward, she sent up another prayer for strength before locking her eyes on the leader’s, narrowing them a bit. She would not back down.
“Who are you, my tasty morsel?” the leader asked, when he could breathe once again.
Amara opened her mouth to answer when something hit her like a bolt of lightning, sending a pool of warmth and comfort cascading down her body from her head to her toes. Her body tingled as she felt all her fears and misgivings fade away to be replaced with a feeling of such intense love and protection that she thought she would explode from the sheer joy of it. In that moment, her eyes alighting with a fire of righteous fury, she felt her lips part and words she hadn’t meant to speak rolled from her mouth with a confidence she didn’t possess, and she knew that the words she spoke were directly from Elohim.
“My name is Amara. I am the daughter of the late Queen Tana of Nahala, citizen of the world known as Earth, wanted prisoner of King Zedekiah of Morta, last Neyna and guardian of Magerei, servant of the Most High God, and your enemy!” She drew her sword, shifting her left foot back and raising the blade to point directly at the leader’s chest.
She held her sword in her right hand, left clenched into a fist at her side, and although she expected her sword arm to tremble weakly after her ordeal, it seemed that Elohim was not done yet. The warmth floating through her body seemed to solidify into a presence, and it felt as if someone were holding her up, their hand over top her own on the sword, holding it steady.
“Elohim has a message for the followers of Abaddon, the ones called ‘sorcerers’, who insult the Lord’s name with their ‘magic’ and detestable acts. Elohim says ‘See, I present before you my warrior, clothed in purity and bathed in light, born of your world yet raised of another, whom I have returned in your time of highest prosperity to lead my people in your devastation. No more will you take what is mine for your own devices, no more to leave suffering and death in your wake. I AM the Lord, and I will rain vengeance down on you. Be warned: your days are numbered.’ So says the Lord.” Amara’s voice was steady and commanding, the words filling her with a hope she didn’t know she could feel.
At that moment, a melodious cry sounded from above them, and Fallyn the phoenix descended from the heavens, circling above the Mortians once before moving to hover above Amara. Streaking towards them from another direction like a golden missile came the unisai that Amara had rescued in Etaf. The beautiful creature landed a few feet behind her and leaving its wings spread, raced to her left, lowering its head and pawing at the men as it snorted. At the same time, Amias the gargoyle raced in from behind Amara, skidding to a stop on her right as he snarled menacingly, lidless eyes taking in the sorcerers cowering before them. Finally, to complete the effect, although she didn’t show herself, the dragon from Nymaeolus’ furious roar echoed about the village, her shadow passing over the ground before the men as she flew in front of the sun.
It seemed that the show of force and the message presented were more than the enemy could take. The horses reared and squealed in terror, circling about as they fought their riders to escape the danger before them. As for the sorcerers, they hesitated for a long while, fighting their petrified mounts for control, looking to their leader for orders, but when he didn’t seem inclined to give any, they gave in to their own fear and raced out of the village. The leader, for his part, stared at Amara as if transfixed, eyes wide and breath coming in short gasps. It wasn’t until his horse, who was jerking against the reins in his tight grip, slammed into him, nearly knocking him over, that he seemed to come to himself. Quickly and awkwardly, he leapt on his flighty horse, halting the rearing beast before it could take off after its companions.
“This isn’t over!” he shouted, cursing her name as he finally eased his grip on his steed and raced out of the village after his men.
“I know, but it soon will be,” Amara said quietly, as she watched the threat shrinking into the distance.