A Paladin's War Ch. 10

"Perfect," she muttered, leaning back against the door, eyes roaming the garish room. She wanted to kick the door down and go back to that man, to find out who he was, but she discarded the idea. If she was in the belly of the beast, best to take the soft approach, for now. Besides, who knew how many women these 'Masters' had captured, and what might become of them if Sara kicked the hornet's nest.

"Lennise!" she said aloud, clicking her fingers. The dark woman dancing. Her face had been too similar to be anyone else, similar to a man's she'd met recently in Cartuga, a kind man who had asked for her help. "I'll bring her back, Barnett," she vowed softly as she began to circle the room, looking for anything of interest. "I promise." Apart from the interesting artwork depicting men and women engaged in various acts of sex, the room was the same as any other, if on the luxurious side. There was a broad, arched window against one wall, sealed shut somehow, and a small fireplace, too, the hearth presently bare. Next to the fireplace was an opening to the bath chamber, where a round, deep copper tub sat on the stone floor. All in all it felt very... hedonistic. Sara would rather like to live in a place like this one day, exploring her every desire with whomever she wished. An ache started in her belly, but she managed it with a quick breathing exercise; no point getting aroused now.

"Well, at least I'll be comfortable," she muttered as she sat on the bed and puffed her cheeks out. A brass doorknob caught her eye, glinting at her from behind a standing mirror that had blocked her view of it before. Her eyes widened when she pulled it open. It was a wardrobe, deep enough to walk inside and lined with dozens of gowns and dresses and things she did not recognise, many of them scandalous. She grinned as she fingered some of the items on display, imagining what Erik or Aran would say if they saw her wearing something like this.

A sudden knock at the main door startled her. Hurrying from the wardrobe, she pushed it shut as she heard the door open. When she rounded the mirror, there was a man standing in the room. Slender, dark and fit, he was bald and bare to the waist. Below, he wore tight breeches that showed off his legs nicely and soft boots with turned down tops at the ankle. He looked her over briefly, taking in her gown. "That will not do," he said flatly, gesturing to the fine red silk hugging her body. "Remove it." Even on his dark skin, she could see the same veins around his eyes that she'd seen on Gaivanya.

Sara gaped, momentarily forgetting her purpose here. "Excuse me?"

The man met her stare evenly. "Did you mishear? I said remove it." There was no emotion in his tone, no curving of lips or glint in his eye that suggested some lecherous intent. She almost would have preferred that over the direct, flat stare.

"Why?" she demanded. It was one thing to come here willingly, quite another to just strip down for any old stranger who ordered it.

"Because it is required."

She opened her mouth to offer retort, but she closed it again. If I do what he says, he might take me where I need to go. I can be obedient, for now. Slowly, she slipped the shoulder straps off the dress and pushed it down, trying to ignore dark eyes that watched her every move. She hadn't felt like this since her days in Maralon, doing what was necessary to secure food and shelter. In truth, this was not as bad; she had her vala if she needed it. There was nothing this man could do to her that she could not handle. Kneeling over the red silk now pooled on the carpet, she untied her slippers and pulled them off.

"Very good," he said once she was standing again. He started forward and she prepared to defend herself, but he merely rounded her and went for the wardrobe, disappearing inside for a few moments and returning with a short, diaphanous robe not unlike a vaima. "Don this. It is suitable for your first viewing."

"What does that mean?" she enquired, taking the robe. "Who will be viewing me?"

"That will be revealed in time," he said smoothly, standing in front of her with arms behind his back. He intended to watch again, she realised. "You have no reason to be concerned," he added. "I have no interest in you, nor would I touch you if I did."

Saying nothing, Sara threw the robe on and tied the sash, feeling hardly less naked now than before. She wondered what he meant by all that, but decided to keep her silence for now. Once she was done, he eyed her up and down and nodded, then made for the door. "Follow."

Follow, stay here, take off your dress, put this on, follow again, she chanted acidly in her head. This place had been nothing but a series of orders thus far. That, and a collection of strange and unsettling people. The dark man led her further into the huge house, and while she caught glimpses of people - some in dark cloaks, some dressed similar to herself, others in more normal attire - she did not see Lennise or the man that had pulled at her so. There was a strange feeling in the air, a heaviness, and the smallest sounds were too loud.

"Aren't you at least going to tell me your name?" She asked the man at one point, but he offered no response. Fine, be that way, she thought bitterly. I'll just be a good little slave and follow you silently and do whatever you say. After a minute or two they started down a wide, stone staircase, the air growing noticeably cooler the further they went. Down and down, until Sara thought they must be at least a hundred feet underground. Lamps hung from the walls every dozen steps, casting shadows that shifted with their passing. When they finally reached the bottom, a corridor led away from the stairs a short distance to heavy-looking doors, thick timber strapped with iron.

Sara waited while her silent guide moved to push the doors open. Without her vala to warm her, she wanted to tuck her hands beneath her arms, but she made herself still. How was it suddenly so cold down here? She was surprised she couldn't see her own breath. The pulling in her belly grew stronger as light and noise flooded from the opening doors, and as the crack widened, so did her eyes.

The chamber was large and open, fifty paces on a side and lit by hundreds of candles on stands or hanging from the high ceiling. Dozens of people moved between huge square beds and lounging chairs, many of them occupied by bodies, some resting, some writhing languidly, others moving more vigorously. Alongside the visual onslaught was a din of noise, moans of pleasure, the slapping of flesh, screams that could have been pain or ecstasy, Sara wasn't entirely sure. She had thought her room was hedonistic, but she had been wrong. This was true hedonism. The sexual energy in the air washed over her like a tidal wave, and had she had one scrap less training she would have torn her robe off and rushed in to join the fray. Even so, her eyes drank in the scene with a sense of both hesitation and excitement. Amina had had her abstaining from all pleasure during her training, a commitment she had not broken since leaving the Temple, but her desires were straining to be freed.

Regulating her breathing, she schooled herself to serenity. Looking past the cavorting feast of nudity, she saw a dais at the rear of the chamber upon which a man sat, tall and proud and garbed in a shimmering black robe. Even at fifty paces, she could feel his eyes, pinning her where she stood. The aura coming off him was the same she'd felt back at Lady Elhorn's estate, though much more powerful now. Her vala flickered, wriggling like an eel, and for a moment she thought she might lose control of it. It was like it didn't know whether it wanted to burst forth or retreat, perhaps both at once. Whatever the cause, it had never happened before.

Before she knew it, her feet were moving and the doors were closed behind her. One by one, those in the room ceased their activities and regarded her. Hisses and murmurs rose, whispers. Everywhere she looked, she saw the same veiny tendrils around eyes, whether on Orc or Elf or Human or Dwarf, and there were several of each present. Not everyone had the veins on just the eyes, she realised after a moment. Some had them all over, as if their blood were inky black. From those, she sensed... wrongness, like the man on the dais.

She was quickly surrounded, bodies pressing in close but not quite touching her. Hands reached out tentatively, but always stopped just short of her skin, often accompanied by a groan of frustration or a vexed hiss. "So close!" one woman - a strikingly beautiful Human despite the dark tendrils snaking beneath her pale skin - cried. She was naked but for a collection of necklaces and bracelets that jingled when she moved.

"Is she the one?" another said, this one a man as handsome as the first woman was beautiful, tall and broad-shouldered. He was naked, too, and no less stricken by those strange veins.

"Is it finally over?" said a dark woman, almost as voluptuous as Elaina, her eyes wide with what Sara thought was both hope and fear. She spun this way and that, trying not to shy away from reaching hands, though they never actually touched her. All the while, her vala threatened to explode wildly. She held on for dear life, not knowing what would happen if she lost control of it.

What under the Gods have I gotten myself into? She thought frantically. Breathe Sara. Just breathe. The tugging in her belly was dragging her to the dais, step by step.

"Enough." A man's voice cut in from somewhere nearby. The crowd around her parted immediately to reveal the black-robed man from the dais, now standing no more than ten feet away. The deepest silence she'd ever heard settled over the room, and all eyes were on her. He came closer, and with each step, her vala convulsed. She lost the last fingernail of control and for the first time in many days, it erupted at full strength. Heat and light flooded her body, strength and love and the true sense of wholeness that came with it. She wanted to laugh, to cry, to shout to the heavens in exultation.

Gasps filled the onlookers, all except the approaching man in the robe. She could not pull her eyes from the shadowed face in that cowl, but still she was aware of the others around her. Some began to tremble visibly, some dropped to their knees while still others wailed and moaned.

"So clean!" one man cried, his hands clutching at his face where he knelt.

"So pure! It burns so!" another woman shrieked, her eyes bulging.

"Yes," the robed man said, stopping in front of Sara. His voice was smooth, deep and confident. "Clean and pure. And strong. Very strong."

Sara was frozen stiff with fear, she realised suddenly. How could that be? She was full to bursting with power. Why couldn't she use it? Unhurriedly, large, black-veined hands lifted to grasp the sides of his cowl and pull it back over his head. Bright green eyes stared down at her from a face that could have been sculpted by a master artisan, all strong cheekbones perfect nose and powerful jaw. In fact, everything about that face looked powerful. The light in those eyes, though, that was what really held her. Madness, pure and simple. She was surprised they did not glow visibly.

He cupped her chin in his hand and turned her face up. No one else had touched her, so why did he? "You may be the one we seek," he said quietly. "Or you may not be, but either way, you will make a fine addition." At that, he barked a short, sharp laugh, yet no mirth touched his face. "Pay attention, my brothers and sisters!" he announced to the room, keeping his grip on Sara's chin. "For this moment may be a historic one. Never have we found one quite like her!"

The other veined ones fell silent, watching with that strange blend of fear and hope. They were all mad, Sara realised, every single one. The rest of the room's occupants - the ones with just the eye-veins - had retreated, either disappearing or standing patiently out of the way. Servants, maybe. She wanted to work out what those veins meant, and why there were differences, but that green gaze held her fast and made thinking difficult.

"The others died," the man holding her continued. "But perhaps you will not, par'avale."

He knew she was a Priestess in training? How? Before she could do more than register the question, his other hand came to rest between her breasts and she felt... something... in him pulse and surge, then push into her. There was sound coming from her mouth, but it was distant, hollow, as if her ears were blocked. She was screaming, she realised, and flailing uncontrollably as he held her steady by the chin, his arm shifting as much as an iron bar would.

An eternity passed as she shook like a sheet in the wind, her voice reducing to a whispered gasp, worn to nothing by her screams. Brilliant green eyes were the last thing she saw before all went black.

*

Erik sighed contentedly as he settled back against the bole of a stout pine, his belly full of hot stew and his body grateful for the rest after a long day's ride. It was the simple pleasures of life that mattered most, especially in times when you could find yourself dead at a moment's notice. His ten travelling companions were scattered about the stand of trees they'd chosen for their camp tonight, eating or talking or preparing to settle in. Well, eight of them were present; Amina had taken Mikel off for his nightly lesson. She would return soon and take Ayla and Tavish for theirs. Erik did not know how she did it; leading the party across dangerous land rife with darkspawn, training three par'vala as well as keeping watch most nights. The woman barely slept, but somehow she managed.

He smiled as he looked around the camp, watching the women appreciatively. Rayna, Bella, Jeira and Sorla sat around the fire, laughing at something Rayna had just said. Sylvia was a little way off, deep in discussion with her mother, Lynelle, beneath the spreading branches of an elm. Ayla and Tavish were seated cross-legged not too far from Erik on a bare patch of ground, their hands on their knees and eyes closed. They did that every night at camp; Ayla had taken to helping her brother develop his abilities in her spare time.

He felt his eyes sliding shut as the warmth of his dinner spread through his body. He let them close; if anything was needed he would be called upon readily enough, and if there were any danger around, Amina would have sensed it and alerted everyone. For a time, he dozed peacefully against the tree.

It was the quiet that woke him, the camp dead silent. He could see everyone from where he was sitting, saw their gazes locked onto Amina standing at the edge of the firelight, staring at nothing. Mikel stood next to her, looking worried. A cold feeling crept into Erik's gut; something was very wrong. The more time you spent around arohim, the better you got at sensing their moods, especially when you were inside their aura.

He got to his feet, the scraping of his boots on the ground sounding too loud in the quiet. "What is it?" he asked, coming closer.

The beautiful Priestess took a long time to answer. She still stared at nothing, eyes like round sapphires catching the firelight. She whispered something under her breath that he didn't quite catch, but he thought he heard "destiny" and "split." What could that mean? Suddenly she blinked. "I must go," she said quickly. Sylvia leaped into action, hopping nimbly across the camp to where the horses were tied, but Amina forestalled her. "No, child. He is a strong horse, but he will not carry me fast enough."

Wherever she was going, she was going to run there. Concerned faces looked to each other. "What has happened, Priestess?" Jeira repeated Erik's question.

"I do not know," Amina said darkly. "But the hand of Maharad has moved this night, and I am needed elsewhere. Erik," her eyes fixed on him across the fire. "I leave you in command."

Just like that? Erik thought in surprise, but he only bowed his head in assent. "Of course, Priestess."

"I am going southwest as the raven flies," Amina went on. "Follow me, but do not hope to keep up. I will meet with you again when I can." To everyone else, she said, "I only do this out of direst need, my children. Please be safe and watch over one another." There was both regret and determination in her eyes before she moved so quickly that Erik only saw a blur, a puff of dust rising where her feet had been. Then she was gone.

There were a few startled jumps from the group at the suddenness of her exit, but no one remarked on it; they had all seen how fast Amina could move when she wanted. Erik took a deep breath as all eyes turned to him. Mikel, young and uncertain - he had been cocky when he first appeared but Amina had quickly knocked the edge off him - but trying to appear confident now. Ayla and Tavish, even younger than Mikel but with eyes that had seen more than they should at their age, ready to follow him when either one could tear him apart on a whim. Not that they would, but they did possess the strength. Sylvia, her big green eyes telling him she had full faith in him. Lynelle, one of his oldest and dearest friends and lovers, patiently awaiting his instructions. Rayna and Bella, both different in appearance but each as beautiful as the other, offering him certain nods. Jeira smiled encouragingly, and Sorla, standing beside him, took his hand and squeezed it. He gave the half-Orc a grateful look.

"Alright," he said after taking a deep breath. "Let's get some rest and start before dawn tomorrow. We'll need watches set in pairs, rotating every two hours. Lynelle, Sylvia, Sorla, we'll need your eyes, so pair up with a Human. Ayla, Tavish and Mikel, keep your vala suppressed-" that's how he'd heard the other arohim say it "-at all times." Nobody had any questions, so he continued. "Whomever is on watch will walk the tree line for two hours before changing with the next pair. Sleep with weapons close to hand and shout if something seems even slightly off." Everyone nodded, letting him know they understood. He chose himself and Sorla for first watch. The others all prepared to get some sleep.

A minute later, he was circling the big stand of trees with Sorla at his side, the statuesque half-Orc moving easily around low branches and undergrowth much easier than he was; he felt like he was making enough noise to wake the dead with all the rustling of bushes and the snapping of dead twigs underfoot. Libraries were where he belonged. Libraries and museums.

"You lead well," Sorla said quietly in her deep, husky voice as she gently pressed a branch out of their way. Her Orc heritage had given her more height than her Human side would account for, and with Erik not being the tallest of men, she was a good head taller than he. "Amina leaving was no easy thing, yet you made us all feel sure and safe."

"Thank you," he replied, keeping his voice low. "For a moment, I wasn't sure what to do."

"I think," she said slowly, "that many great leaders have moments like this, but what makes them great is that they overcome it."

"Like Rusthorn," Erik murmured to himself. When Sorla cocked an eyebrow at him - there was just enough moonlight to see her face between shadows - he explained. "Captain Lucas Rusthorn. One of the great captains of the north. He kept order in the Dawnguard and quashed every rebellion that sprung up in the first fifty years of Herald order. Shame he used that brilliant mind for the Heralds. He writes about the importance of sounding the most certain when you are least certain sometimes, and sometimes not, and having the wisdom to know the difference."