Embrace of the Goddess Ch. 10

Chapter 10: Conversations with Monsters

Orilana

You gasp as your lover's lips pull apart from yours like a dancer. She brings them to your chin, tasting the salt of your flesh. The lips trail their way down your neck, and she hesitates. You have seen how her minions devour there, how they take the life from the thick and pulsing vein. You have long wondered if she would do the same. Half of you resents her for not doing it, but that part is insane with lust. The other part, still cold and pious, fears death at the hand of a monster.

But your lover does not make your perverted musings a reality. She trails her kisses down your chest. With her lips between your breasts, you whimper. She has to stop. She has to give them her attention. Once more the wild part demands that she pierce them. Something calls out in your blood. It screams behind the flesh to be free through any means necessary. Losing a little blood is nothing to have it out out out. The neck. The nipple. Anywhere she wants to pierce you, to break down your body and insert herself.

But she doesn't stop. She kisses down your stomach, and as her lips tickle the soft and curling hair between your legs, you arch your back and moan. Other times, you've called out for goddesses. But now only your lover's name escapes your lips, coming from deep inside you. The breath is hot like a chasm all the way to the abyss. It doesn't matter. The source is irrelevant to the beauty. Her name can never be defiled. It can never be impure.

"Iriel," you cry.

* * * * *

Orilana slipped out of bed, and the transcripts she'd been reading fell to the floor. Her body was drenched with sweat, but they didn't have water for baths. They didn't have much of anything. Iriel had taken the Abbey. What had started as a rebellion was now a takeover, and Orilana's paladins were the tiny insurgent force trying to hold out. They could hardly leave their cave these days. Iriel's monsters and dryads kept careful watch. Though Orilana assumed they were being some twisted form of merciful. They had to have a way through. The oreads alone could tunnel through and kill them all.

What was Iriel waiting for?

They had asked Prim some form of that question a dozen times. But the vampire wouldn't answer questions. Unfortunately, that didn't mean she wouldn't talk. She had all manner of things to say to each paladin that guarded her. She would taunt them, speculating how their blood would taste. She would tease them about their virginity and purity, making lewd comments and drinking in their bodies with lurid glances. She would wonder aloud about the amount of pubic hair they had and what color it was. She would think aloud about where their scars were, and if she could open them up with her teeth.

They had taken to plugging their ears with wax or strips of cloth when they watched her.

Harza suggested they gag the demon, but Orilana knew that eventually Prim would slip. She would say something she didn't intend. She would give something away. Guards kept their ears plugged, but nearby, a paladin would transcribe all of Prim's comments and mutterings. When she was done, she went to confession and cleansed herself of the abominable comments. After that, she would give the transcripts to Orilana to read over.

There was no one for Orilana to confess to.

Orilana splashed water on her face and didn't bother to dry it. She let the droplets run down her chin and neck, slide down her back and chest. The cool water was a sweet relief, and she could pretend for a moment it was a bath. But after taking a deep breath, she went to her desk, grabbed a piece of parchment, her quill, and began to write her doom:

Dear Iriel,

I have debated over and over if I should write you. To say it is a temptation would be a lie. I am not tempted to speak with you. For I know that you are no more than Maloth. The beast has twisted your mind. She has slithered inside of you and corrupted all that is good. There is no more Iriel. My best friend is dead, and the archenemy of all that is good and beautiful killed her.

But in a war, it may be appropriate for the corresponding generals to speak with each other, to broker terms, to potentially discuss peace. That is what I am here to write you about. I want you to know that there will be no peace. We will not surrender. You shall not have us. If you storm through the walls of our cavern, breaking stone and flesh, we will slit our own throats before you will corrupt us.

Iwill slit my own throat before you corrupt me.

But I'm sure you know the state of my paladins and our resources. I'm sure there are spies in our ranks as there are spies in yours. I know you have the Abbey. I know dark powers that haven't walked the earth in a millennia sleep in your bed. I know that we are up against the night itself, as inevitable as each setting sun. So, there is only one question left:

What are you waiting for?

There was a knock at the door. Orilana flinched, stood up, sat back down, grabbed the piece of parchment, and crumpled it up.

"Come in," she shouted.

The door opened, and Harza entered with an eager look on her half-orc face. "She's talking," she said.

"The prisoner?"

Harza nodded. The half-orc was dirty and ragged like everyone else, but she didn't complain about it once. Her hair was now matted down and plastered to her scalp, but she smiled often. It was a simple but elegant balm to Orilana's weary soul.

"All she does is talk," Orilana said.

"Not raving or insulting or ..." Harza looked away. "Whatever else she does."

Orilana frowned. "Actually talking?"

Harza nodded. "But she has one condition."

"And that is?"

"She'll only talk to you."

Orilana tapped the corner of her desk. This had to be another trap. Prim was just another iteration of Farryn. She would be another mouthpiece for whatever foulness Maloth had in store. It was probably all disinformation. But maybe it could be more. Maybe they could bind her to something. She would need a priestess of acolyte capable of it.

"Go get Rella. Make sure she's there," Orilana said. The veiled girl was a welcome surprise. Her story was vague about how she'd escaped the Abbey, so Orilana assumed it was tragic and traumatizing. But having someone who knew the ways of divine magic, of spells and bindings and rituals beyond what paladins were taught, could be the difference in this war.

"Yes, Captain," Harza said. She left and closed the door behind her. Orilana took the balled-up piece of parchment, uncrumpled it, and read it one last time. Then she crumpled it up again, grabbed a candle, and burned the letter.

* * * * *

Rella

The unfortunate thing about her new powers was that Rella didn't get the chance to show them off to anybody. The morons around her saw the veil and didn't think anything of it. Rella had half a mind to flay the mind of an unsuspecting paladin, put the veil on the poor girl, and let her go around the dirty cave in her place.

Maloth had blessed her with the ability to take any shape, any appearance. She could be Iriel or Prim or Farryn or Orilana in a heartbeat. She could be dark and lovely. She could be pale and fierce. Her skin was its own veil now. The only one who saw what she was beneath it, who could ever see the crooked nudity of her soul, was Maloth. She had worshipped at the altar of her goddess — Iriel's flesh — hungrily these past weeks. Iriel became crueler and bored. She devised new ways to torment Rella, to punish her for her wicked deeds. But no punishment was enough; all of them brought pain and pleasure in equal amounts. Iriel didn't cum anymore when they fucked, but every breath was orgasmic to Rella now. Life with Maloth was torment and bliss in perfect harmony.

Rella was given a simple task: bring Prim in as a distraction and find the Staff of the Eclipse. It was simple because the paladins would trust her and depend on her. Simple because she could change her appearance with the smallest amount of willpower. Simple because the paladins love trusting people and she'd already brought them a prize. She would let Prim distract them while she looked for the Staff, and then slip out with Orilana's face.

Of course, that had been the plan before Harza found her and demanded she attend Prim's interrogation. They were in a separate location from other prisoners — one made for Prim. There was a constant beam of sunlight dropping down and decorating the bars. They ringed the cage with holy water, and they kept two guards posted that changed every hour. Down the hall, a scribe copied every delightful thing Prim had to say.

Harza shoved some wax in her ears and handed them to Rella. "You'll want these."

Rella looked down and scoffed. "How will I hear the Captain's command."

"You'll know if she needs you by the bleeding and screaming."

Rella closed Harza's hand, wrapping the lovely half-orc's fingers around the wax. "I won't hear the screaming with these in. Trust me. The beast won't turn me. You forget that I brought her to you."

Harza looked at Rella for a long moment, shrugged, and let Rella approach. Orilana was already there. The Captain's black hair was in a messy braid with fraying hairs all around her. She stank as all the paladins did, and her pale grey skin looked sickly under the torchlight.

"Cap —" Orilana held up a hand and silenced the veiled woman.

"I talk," she said. "I may need you to compel her, bind her, or kill her. Prepare the necessary spells."

Rella bowed. "As you wish."

"Finally," Prim said. Her silver hair was dirty and wet. The vampire had long abandoned her paladin's armor for simple and tight fighting clothes made in a quiet black fabric for catching her prey. The pants were torn, and the shoulders were ripped by Rella to make Prim's entrance more dramatic.

"I want to know why Iriel is stalling," Orilana said. "Are you prepared to discuss that?"

Prim sneered in response.

Orilana looked at Rella. "She's going to lie, you know?"

Rella nodded. "I know."

"Oh come, Rella," Prim said. "Let's not play games. Do you remember our sweet chats through the twisting caverns of this abominable rock?"

Rella reached for her magic immediately. White and burning light danced around her fingertips. Was Prim going to give her up? Iriel said the vampire was wily, but she wouldn't ruin Maloth's plans for a laugh, would she?

"I remember shackling your mouth shut," Rella said. She forced her voice to stay even, trying not to let the shape of her true magic — thick purple smoke — show in front of the paladins.

Prim laughed and turned her attention to Orilana. "I wanted to tell you that you have lovely eyes."

Orilana took a step back. "What?"

"That's all. If you can stand to hear it without plugging your ears like the rest of these cowards, I just wanted to tell you that you have lovely eyes. That's why I came here."

"You didn't come here," Rella said. "I dragged you."

Prim's head turned lazily as her eyes settled on Rella. "Come now," was all she said. She turned back to Orilana with a smirk on her face. Rella fumed.

Orilana shook her head. "If this is all you have to say to me, you've wasted my time." The Captain turned and grabbed Rella's elbow. "Come, acolyte."

"Your beauty astounds me," Prim shouted after them as they walked. "Even now. Do the heavens know you've stolen the stars for your eyes?"

Orilana whirled around and grabbed the bars of Prim's cage. Rella held her breath. If Prim wanted to attack, this would be the time. But Prim watched Orilana carefully. The vampire's condescending smirk was gone. Her face was placid, almost eager.

"What's your game?" Orilana asked.

Prim shook her head. She sank to her knees and cast her eyes down. The chains binding her rattled as she sank. "I'm not playing any games. I'm tired of games."

"This sounds like the kind of thing you've been saying to my paladins. Trying to lower their guard."

Prim looked up at her. Her eyes were wide, and Rella thought they looked wet. "Would you ever lower your guard around something like me? Now that I've become this ..." Prim turned her head away and whispered, "Monster."

Orilana let her hands slip further through the bars, as though she wanted to reach out and hold Prim. There was a long moment between them. Rella waited for Prim to lunge and rip Orilana's hands away from her wrists. She waited for Orilana to summon her magic and blast the demon back. She waited for the catch, but nothing happened. As time passed, both women softened. Orilana pulled her hands back through the bars and stepped away from the cage.

"I'm sorry for being a brat," Prim said. "Before I became this. I never got the chance to apologize or change."

Orilana shook her head. "It's too late for that now."

Prim shook her head. "No. It's not."

Orilana gasped and stepped closer to the bars. "What?"

"Maloth is freedom. Maloth is choice. She never forces anything on us we don't want."

Orilana scoffed. "More propaganda."

Prim shook her head. "It's not that. There's a way back. Azora can save me."

"I'm supposed to believe you want to be saved?"

"You think I let her drag me back here? Rella?" Prim sneered at the veiled woman.

"I think you're planning something. That's why you're here."

"If I —" Prim looked down again. Her shoulder shook, and a large teardrop fell from her face and splattered on the stone floor of her cell. Rella didn't know the vampire was biologically capable of crying. "Will you assume I'm lying no matter what I tell you?"

"Yes."

"If I say that Maloth was in my heart long before Iriel betrayed me?"

Orilana said nothing. Her hands turned into fists, and her jaw clenched.

"If I say that I've loved you for a long, long time. That Maloth has just given me permission to have what I've always longed for, to be what I've always been?"

"A murderer?"

"You think — That's all I am to you?"

"That's all I see. A demon who would kill me and everyone I love."

"I didn't choose to become this. I want to go back. I want to be with Azora. I want to be with you."

Orilana shook her head and stepped away.

"It's always been you, Orilana." Prim's voice cracked as stood up and strained against the chains of her cell. "That's why I'm here. That's why I let them take me." Orilana kept walking away. She waved for Rella to follow. "When I heard it was you against Maloth, I had to come back. I had to switch sides. I had to —"

Orilana slipped out of sight, and Prim sunk to her knees, defeated. With her head cast down, and her body wrapped in shadow, Rella almost missed the condescending smirk that danced along the vampire's lips.

Almost.

* * * * *

Orilana

Orilana didn't sleep that night. Serra came back and reported that another group of paladins were taken by surprise. Oreads and naiads oozed out of the walls and forced themselves on the women. Cries of pain turned to moans of pleasures, and within the hour, the paladins were either pierced or taken to the pools for transformation. All night Orilana thought of a mountain of monsters beneath her. But these were her sisters and friends. They had fought the darkness with her. They were the last bastion of light in a dimming world.

Now they were nothing but holes to be filled.

When Orilana knew sleep wouldn't come, she got out of bed and went to her desk. She grabbed another piece of parchment, and started writing:

Dear Iriel,

I don't hate you. I want you to know that before the end. Before you kill me or I kill you, I want you to know that there is no hatred in me for my best friend, Iriel. There is no spite for the High Priestess of Azora. I do not even blame you for your weakness. You were the door Maloth chose to enter the world, but I don't think you would have opened it if you knew what it would bring. I don't think you would walk where I couldn't follow.

You've beaten us. By the time you get this, it won't matter, if I send this at all. Every time one of my paladins falls, an enemy rises up. And no matter what games you play with Prim, I won't fall for her trap. But a stalemate serves you. I want you to know that I won't quit. I won't surrender. You can call it pride or vanity, but I still believe in goodness. I believe in doing the right thing. I don't think temperance, prudence, or modesty are to be scoffed at. I don't think they are shackles around our souls. I believe in Azora.

And I believe in you.

When I fight you, when I snarl and hiss and force you to kill me before you turn me into a demon, I want you to know that it isn't Iriel I hate. You kissed me, and I staggered away, afraid. I hurt you, but in that moment, I could only see the smoke and dark shape Maloth had twisted you into. I could only see what Maloth had taken away from me. I hate her for that. I will never forgive her. Never bend my knee. Never submit. Too many people have died for her pleasure. Too many souls have been twisted, dreams and passions snuffed out, because Maloth believes the height of existence is pleasure.

She is wrong. There are deeper forces that make life worth living: unity, sisterhood, faith, hope, and love. Yes, love. You know that I love you. But the thing pounding on my door, sending nightmares to me each night — for I know it is you — is not my love, my Iriel. It is the monster that has locked her away, and if I cannot save her, if she will not let me save her, I would rather burn than join the twisted dance macabre she is forced through each day.

You are not wrong. You were never wrong. Not your desires or passions or urges. For I loved you before Maloth corrupted you. And if you can find your way back to me, back to that, then maybe there is a way out of this war. Maybe together, we can avenge our fallen sisters, avenge the time we lost to Maloth's games, and I may try once more, to kiss you for the first time.

I'll do it properly this time, I promise.

Love,

Your Captain

Orilana finished the letter, stood up, grabbed the candle, and burned it. Then with the strength of her convictions stirring within her, she grabbed her sword and left her tiny room. She knew what she was going to do, what she needed to do. She had stalled long enough, and that had cost lives. Hope had cost lives.

Harza looked up from a conversation with wounded paladins, saw the Captain, and ran to Orilana's side. "You alright?" she asked as she matched Orilana's stride.

"I think I know what I need to do."

"You think?"

"Just need one more bit of information."

"Permission to speak candidly?" Harza said.

Orilana paused and turned to her. Something about the bite in Harza's tone reminded Orilana of Prim, of an argument they had in Iriel's office. Orilana looked deep into Harza's dark eyes, looking for any changes in her second. Prim's hair had changed when she'd been corrupted, but Harza looked like Harza. The only change was the obvious fatigue and grime that clung to her.

"Granted," said Orilana, but her hand gripped her sword tightly. She wouldn't be caught off guard again.

"There is a war going on," Harza said. "I doubt paladins of an abbey have been trained for war, but I need you to start thinking in terms of a general and not a theologian."

"You think I don't know what I'm doing?"

Harza shook her head. "I think you're too close to the problem."

"Really?"

"Yes, Captain."

"Any other tips for me?"

Harza clenched her fists, rocked on her heels, and looked around the crowded cavern. It had once been crowded with warriors and weapons. Now there were cots and bedrolls pressed against each other with the wounded moaning while other paladins made their best attempts at proper healing magic.