[Calaethis Dragonsbane]

Meanwhile...

Isokla sighed. Refraining from rolling her eyes in frustration, she adopted her sweetest - and perhaps, most dangerous - tone. "You know, where I come from, it is considered... polite to revere a priestess, most notably, by not ogling her."

"Eh? Stuff it yer wench," The lead bandit snapped, not truly paying attention to his 'charge'. "Ye fool women are all ta same; always whingin' an' whinin'..." He stopped and sighed at her pointed sniff. Turning to face her, he took in the fair maiden, in her cream dress-cum-robe - and her folded arms - but most of all, her piercing gaze. Taken aback by the steel her chilly blue eyes beheld, despite himself, he felt himself swallowing, "Now look, 'e dun hafta -" Scratching his head sheepishly as his words met with silent disdain, he rebuked her passive(?) resistance, he glared, and began anew, "Now ye just look 'ere, priestess or nay, ye be just a woman. Ye be nay sayin' two words, an' now ye be speakin' out of turn."

"Your mannerisms are a disgrace; your accent appalling, you lowborn -" Eyes flashing, she bit back the rest of her retort, regally staring down her nose at the rest of the bandits. "Your men are a ragtag company of misfits; pathetic. Scum such as yourselves are mere offal; worse than the banditry your ranks were formed from."

"Ye dare pass judgement? I'll 'ave ye know-"

"Silence!" As the group of fourteen (including the leader), stopped and stared at her, she drew herself to her full height; no longer a captive in name only, but a figure of authority that bore down on them. Their reactions were mixed; a few shifted uncomfortably; a couple placed their hands on their swords, and more than one looked the other way, while the rest shifted between outrage and anger. Crimson as his tunic and the blood on his blade, the leader opened his mouth but she cut off his protest, "You fool! The Master's wrath shall be terrible; that you would dare to even consider laying even so much as your filth-ridden gaze upon one of his brides - retribution shall be swift! Final your days shall be; still," she considered, the fire in her eyes dying, "I am not without mercy; nor is the Master. Repent, and salvation may yet be yours. Elsewise..." The frigid fire flared as she left her threat unspoken.

After several moments of tense silence, where the bandits-cum-Lords of Vision scouts felt unable to breathe, the leader finally found his voice, "Tha' be quite enough of ye!" His firm statement quaked slightly, spoiling the effect, "I'll be hearin' no more of ye talk, witch. Lies or no, I'll have ye silence, or I'll have ye gagged an' bound. Now men-"

"This is how you respond to my kindness? There shall be no mercy for traitors; your chance has been given - now you have damned yourself as well as your men. Who stands with him?" She fixed her gaze upon each man present in turn, "Silence!" Repeating herself, her command rasped out with the effect of a verbal lash; several actually stepping back as if struck, "I pass judgement. From the fires of the Master, within the skies of Heaven; from the Star that Begat His Glorious Dwelling; from the stream of life-"

"Wait!" One of the younger scouts broke, throwing himself to his feet, "He dun speak for us all! Stay your hand; have mercy!"

Isokla paused, staring down the youngster, "Does any other design to join him and share in his salvation?" Lifting up her hands dramatically, the only thing lacking was the crack of thunder and flash of lightning, darkening skies and the howl of the wind... "Serve the Bride of the Master; serve what you know to be True and judgement shall be spared."

"Now 'ang on," The leader's voice returned in a shriller protest, "Yer goin' a bit far - calm down an'"

"There shall be no mercy for the traitors!" Bearing down on him, she paused, "The hour of your death is at hand; I offer you this one, last chance. For the Master is merciful and I, his humble servant wishes only to heed his example. Thus, I grant you this, your final and third chance." Fixing him with a daring look, she inquired almost mildly, "What will it be?"

"Uh, I er, accept yer most generous offer ye highness majesty divinity mam."

"Much better. There may be hope for you yet." Isokla smiled, her gaze one of warm approval. "Now, form up - march in a column, of twos. Bring the wagons to the centre - two guards at the rear, two at the fore. The main column marches in front of the train." Taking charge quickly, she issued her orders without hesitation. "We are taking a detour; there is a camp of the Master's most loyal servants, the Lords of Vision, where the rest of your brethren dwell in this region, is there not?"

"Yes mam. The cave fortress of Tek'Iyre."

"That is where we shall go." She paused, then slowly with long strides, trod towards the young scout, "Your loyalty shall be rewarded." The glint of silver flashed, arced through the sky and took one of the older bandits in the throat, "Just as traitors' shall be. Come, ride with me." She smiled as the dagger returned to her hand, the dead bandit's throat torn out, his half raised axe falling from his hand.

There were no more attempts after that, fear, awe and hatred coursing through their ranks.