Larunalia

One of them leaned against a door at the lowest level, near to the stage. She wore a dark bronze breastplate over a short-sleeved tunic, and the rest of her armour was nowhere in sight. Her skin was a creamy shade; scars and decorative inking covered her exposed arms. Although the sentinel watched the many permutations of intercourse onstage with a sort of fascinated amusement, she shook her head every time someone approached her, offering a wry smile with each negation.

Vitalia gazed at her so hard that she thought the sentinel would feel the weight of her stare and turn around, but she didn't. The sentinel simply observed the crowd, brushing her hand over her auburn hair now and again. The hair at both sides of her head was cut low, indicating someone who worked for the temple. However, the strip in the middle of her head was fairly long, and pulled into a neat braid which ended just past her neck. The sentinel's face had hard, strong lines. She was probably younger than she looked, and Vitalia breathed deep, even breaths.

The Laru on the platform finally plucked the Gelnadyar's prick from the clutch of the Nayir god, who was so busy pounding into her as she hooked her legs over the arms of his throne. She threw it in her sack and the giantess emerged, fully reconstructed and brought back to life. In the narrative, Laru had to search for Gelnadyar's soul in the cave of spirits before Gelnadyar was restored to become Laru's consort, helping her to oust the Nayir god and take the throne. The performance handily skipped that bit about the soul and resolved the rest of the tale by having Laru rip out the tusks of the Deadworld King as he came in her. Gelnadyar grabbed his convulsing body and threw it to the ground.

The play was over at this triumphant moment, but the revellers carried on fucking. It seemed as if the participants were especially fervent because of the Eluuar's presence, but Vitalia could not keep her eyes off the auburn-haired sentinel. Even though she couldn't see the eyes of the sentinel from this distance, Vitalia was nearly overcome with the surety that they were a very light brown.

She stood abruptly; her feet and legs moved without any conscious thought on her part, and she travelled down the aisles with one goal in her mind. The sentinels straightened as she walked past them, and door-wraiths called out to her in their sweet whispers. The sentinel who had captured her attention did not notice the approach of the Eluuar until Vitalia stood right beside her, looking up at the side of that inflexible face. The closest partiers went still, gazing at the Eluuar with wide eyes.

The sentinel noticed their frozen scrutiny, and her stance shifted. She frowned; her shoulders straightened and she placed her hand to her waist, where a short sword hung.

"Be at peace, sentinel," Vitalia called out very gently, but the sentinel whirled around, stumbling back a few steps. She had drawn her sword with a very eerie speed, and held it steadily even as she tried to retain her balance. Vitalia gazed at the sharpened tip of the sword, and kept still.

Vitalia saw the moment when the sentinel realised just who she held at the point of her weapon. The sentinel jerked back her hand, blinking rapidly. Her eyes were indeed a very light brown, like the tea brewed from larulels.

"Eluuar," she murmured, her voice shaking and she went down on one knee, holding up the sword above her head with both hands. Vitalia took it, and set it against the wall with great care. The sentinel's head shifted slightly to look at it, as if surprised.

Vitalia placed her hands on the sides of the sentinel's face, and exerted very slight pressure. The sentinel lifted her face very obediently, but kept her eyes averted.

"Look at me," Vitalia commanded and the sentinel obeyed. When their eyes met, Vitalia felt a shock skirt down her spine, like the lightning which danced over the Necrohal. "What are you called?"

"Bahjkir," the sentinel answered lowly, and Vitalia nodded.

"Bahjkir," she repeated, enjoying the sound of her name on her tongue. "That is a good, strong name. Does your family call you Kir?"

The sentinel's full lips pressed together briefly before she answered: "My sister does."

Vitalia continued to stare at Bahjkir's face, feeling the air of familiarity about her. Dim images floated before her eyes, and one of them solidified: entering a cave of spirits, calling for her friend's soul.

"Gelnadyar," Vitalia said now, and she could hardly recognize the loving timbre in her voice. Bahjkir jerked back out of her grasp, shaking her head slowly.

"Yes," Vitalia insisted. "It's you. It's you, you're here."

+

Chapter 2: Gelnadyar the Consort

Bahjkir looked around the large room, taking in the lushly decorated space with not a little trepidation. This room was atop the Towers of Laru-Lel, a massive set of spires built directly behind the Great Hall. The Towers were connected to the Hall by subterranean tunnels. Kir had been working as a sentinel at the compound for a few years, mostly to keep an eye on her little sister, but she had never been this high in the Towers before. Underneath her bare toes, the thick carpet felt like clouds.

Someone knocked rapidly on the heavy door, and Kir actually flinched. She gripped the sides of the plush stool on which she perched, taking deep breaths. This was actually far more terrifying than the brute-force fights in which she had entered as a teenager.

"Come in," she managed to croak out, and cleared her throat. The door creaked open, no doubt pushed by the wraith which protected it. Arla entered, awe written large on her face as she took in the magnificence of the quarters. Then, her gaze landed on Kir and she rushed over.

Kir stood up and caught her sister as she tumbled into her arms. She was built strong, and Arla was still a small thing who showed no sign of being as robust as her older sister, but Kir still stumbled back at the force of her greeting.

"Kir!" Arla hugged her around her waist, jumping up and down in her excitement. "Kir, you're the consort of the Eluuar!"

"So I've been told," Kir said and groaned as Arla squeezed her tightly. "Arla, my ribs."

"The reincarnation of Gelnadyar!" Arla squeaked and released Kir to perform a wild little dance, scrawny limbs and arms flaying. Her scarf twirled with her. "You!"

"Me," Kir said heavily, and looked around the room again. This space was a long way from the small house in which she had grown with her father and Arla's mother. When Arla had been chosen to be an acolyte of the temple (most likely because of her hair), Kir had left her fighting lifestyle behind, applying for a post of sentinel in order to watch over Arla.

This Luranalia had been the second one that Kir had experienced at the Great Hall. She'd asked for the duty-assignment, mostly because she wanted to make sure that Arla wouldn't sneak in and be caught up in the temple-approved orgies. Arla was barely of age, and Kir knew well how frantic the fucking could be.

Kir had been watching the stage performance with some interest, and simply hadn't noticed the approach of the Eluuar. When she'd noticed the revellers nearest her post giving her long, incredulous stares, she'd thought that some trespasser had managed to bypass the invisible watchfulness of the door-wraith, and had ended up behind her.

She hadn't expected the Eluuar to be the one standing there. The Eluuar's eyes had been covered behind that heavy veil of beads, but Kir had noted the smooth dark skin of her cheeks and slightly pointed chin, and the long hair lying in shining grey piles atop her head. When the Eluuar had held her face, the small hands had been so cool on Kir's jaw; and certainly, she hadn't expected that lightning-filled shimmer in every part of her being when the Eluuar had said, "Gelnadyar. It's you."

It felt as if she'd come fully awake after the Eluuar called her by that name. Oh, it was a name Kir had heard many times before: in stories, in games as a child, as part of a few choice curses. In the stories, Gelnadyar was a figure of strength and brawling good humour; how could Kir be even remotely connected to that legend?

She sat on the fussy little stool once more, watching Arla bounce from one corner of the room to the other. Arla released loud noises of appreciation as she knelt on the thick carpet and ran her hand over the deep pile.

"Do you know that she blessed me?" Arla said, tracing the intricate patterns in the carpet. "The Eluuar. Remember I got chosen to greet her? And she liked the flowers I collected! She dedicated me under her protection!"

Kir smiled. Arla's expression was distant, and her face was bright under the soft lamplight of the room. Arla had indeed collected those flowers herself in the sloping fields out by Lesser Nalel, slapping Kir's hands away when she had tried to help. Arla had also worked on arranging the bouquet herself, late into the night.

"Has anything happened as yet? From being dedicated?" Kir asked and Arla's gaze sharpened. She tilted her head, thinking a little, and then shrugged.

"No, not yet! But enough about me!" Arla jumped up and fairly skipped over to the bed. A red garment lay on the mattress, something made of at least five more layers than Kir was used to. The thought of all that lace made her skin feel itchy all over. Arla snatched it up, holding the top portion of the garment up in the air, giving it a critical glance. "Are you ready to put this on?"

"I don't think I will ever be ready," Kir said, meaning more than just the clothing.

"But you'll be having your first meal with the Eluuar." Arla sounded as if she as the one who was many years older than Kir, instead of the other way around. "You're the consort!"

Kir felt a scowl twist her lips. "Arla--"

"Come on." Arla shook the odious garment. "I'll help you put it on. Oh! My protocol training!" An expression of concern flitted over her face and to Kir's dismay, Arla knelt on the ground. She draped the clothing over one arm, to get it out of the way so she could clasp her hands together and press her thumbs to her forehead. "Divine Consort, may I assist you?"

"No, no, no," Kir snapped, running up and grabbing Arla by the shoulders to drag her back to her feet. "Never, Arla, you never bow to me."

Arla blinked rapidly. "But you are--"

"I'm just your sister," Kir said, enunciating very slowly. "Don't forget that. I'm just Kir."

Arla nodded slowly. "You're just Kir." She smiled quickly. "And the Consort, too. I'm so proud of you." She put her arms around Kir's neck, and kissed her cheek. "So very proud. Now, will you put on the clothes?"

Kir had no defence against a persistent sister. She allowed Arla to unbuckle her breastplate and remove it, then strip her of the hardy tunic. Arla bullied her into a nearby washroom, where Kir dipped in a ridiculously large bath with fragrant water. After she dried off, Arla pulled on the fancy clothes: first, a thin undergarment that did nothing to hide her breasts and the thick shape of her cock. Then, Arla tightened the jewel-studded corset before the heavy jacket went on. A garland of ribbons sprouted on each shoulder of the jacket, and the sleeves fit snugly over the corded muscles of her arms, hiding all the scars and tattoos. The sleeves flared out at the wrists, and tapered to a long point which nearly touched the floor.

Then, there were the skirts. Kir had not worn a skirt since she was a child, and now there were three, each one longer than the other. Arla clapped her hands at the end of all this arraying, and declared that Kir looked wonderful. Kir felt like a bird stuffed for dinner.

The door swung open again, and the Eluuar's companion walked in, followed by an array of floating trays. Kir opened her mouth to ask about the whereabouts of the Eluuar, but the personification of the death-goddess strode inside as well. Kir's mouth went dry and she closed her mouth again. The Eluuar still wore that head-dress and beaded veil and Kir couldn't see her eyes. However, the Eluuar's mouth was set into a small smile; it did nothing to assuage the fluttering sensation in the pit of Kir's stomach.

Arla dropped to the ground, gowns blooming around her in perfect genuflection. Kir followed suit, hoping that she wasn't kneeling on any of her skirts.

"Your dinner is here," the companion announced quite unnecessarily, in a very loud, reedy voice. Kir glanced up; the Eluuar's smile twisted, as if she was trying to hold back a laugh, and then she turned to her companion.

"Leave us, Malon."

Malon's eyes grew wide in her face and she began to shake her head. Just as she opened her mouth, the Eluuar held up a hand. Malon closed her mouth again.

"I'll be fine." The Eluuar's head turned slightly in Kir's direction, "Besides, the embodiment of Gelnadyar is here. I could not be safer."

Kir felt her cheeks warm. She was sure the Eluuar could take care of herself, in any case. Malon's face was twisted into a frown, but she picked up her skirts and swept out of the room. Arla got up as well, and with her head held down, she headed for the door.

"Arla," the Eluuar called out and Arla stopped so suddenly that she nearly fell over. Kir stood up quickly, to rush over if Arla tumbled to the ground, but the girl righted herself. "How are you?"

"I'm--" Arla swallowed hard, obviously flustered that the Eluuar had remembered her name. "I'm well, Eluuar!"

The Eluuar seemed to consider her for a long moment, and she turned her head slowly, tracking from Arla to Kir and back again. The beads of her veil clattered lightly against each other.

"Ah, this is your sister," she said. Kir wasn't quite sure who she addressed, so she nodded with Arla.

"The hair is similar," Arla said. "Although mine is more red."

"Yes, it is," the Eluuar said in a very indulgent tone, and Arla's cheeks bloomed. She hurried to the door, turned to give Kir a very heavy glance, and exited with a quick flare of her skirts. Kir let out a low sigh and then inhaled quickly again at the realization that she was alone with the Eluuar and the floating trays.

"Put them over there." The Eluuar pointed to a round table which was placed a few steps from the bed and the trays glided over obediently. "You, with the tea, set it on the right of the bowls." The plates and cutlery bobbed off the trays and were arranged by unseen hands, into a setting for two. "Elio, do we have enough spoons?"

"You can see them," Kir murmured. "The ghouls, you can see them."

"Yes," the Eluuar answered, and because she was apparently very patient, she did not say obviously. "Ghouls, spectres, wraiths...I can see any being who hails from the Deadworld. Especially, if they're being naughty," she finished in an extremely pointed tone. One of the wide bowls had been wiggling in mid-air; at the Eluuar's admonishment, it landed on the table with a light thump. However, most of it hung over the edge and the bowl tilted off the table.

Kir moved without thinking, and ended up at the table in a blink. She reached out and set her hand underneath the bowl, catching it in her palm before it reached halfway to the floor. As she straightened up, one of the invisible ghouls snatched the bowl out of her grasp, and set it down on the cloth-covered surface.

The Eluuar was quiet for a long moment. "Your captain said you were quick," she finally remarked, "but he obviously downplayed how fast you really are."

"Well," Kir said and simply cleared her throat. What else could she say? She was quick with weapons, and outran everyone in her squad during training, but it was a talent she'd always had. Her wins in those long-past fighting matches had been influenced by her speed. However, when she joined the sentinels of Laru-lel, the captain pointed out that while she was fast and strong, she had to work on her aim, and so she did. Every day.

The Eluuar made no further observation, but returned her attention to the work of the ghouls. The food, in the gleaming silver bowls, smelled wonderful, and Kir's stomach grumbled.

"Thank you," the Eluuar said when the final platter shifted into place. The door swung open and the trays wafted out. As soon as the door clicked quietly shut, the Eluuar exclaimed, "Finally!" She reached up and tugged off the small crown made of tiny orange feathers, removing the beaded veil. She also yanked out some large pins which had kept her hair in that extravagant style and the whole mass tumbled down her back in a gleaming fall.

Kir stared at her for a long moment. Apart from the grey eyes and the silver hair, the Eluuar wasn't what she had expected. She was short and slight, and attractive in an ordinary way. Kir thought that she would be able to feel a great power pouring from her, but there was nothing, really.

The Eluuar grinned, and the corners of her eyes crinkled. "Did they tell you my name?" She didn't wait for a response: "I'm Vitalia."

Vitalia. It was a name that was fairly common, especially in the eastern parts of Jharna; and since the Eluuar had been installed in the Necrohal, Kir knew of at least nine newborns that had been given that name.

The Eluuar--Vitalia--indicated with a wave of her hand that Kir take a seat. Kir sat down at the table, watching as Vitalia twitched the long sheaf of her hair to one side so she could sit down. Kir looked at the food and then grabbed the closest serving spoon, dumping a large portion of nearly everything onto her plate. She glanced up; the Eluuar watched her in a very intent manner.

"Shall--shall I serve you?" Kir asked; she had no idea what to do. As the consort, was she expected to wait on Vitalia? Should the Eluuar eat first?

"Oh, no." Vitalia grabbed her own plate, serving out a hefty portion of meat, vegetables and bread. She nodded in satisfaction and dug in with her utensils, closing her eyes with pleasure at the first mouthful. "Mmm." She opened her eyes again and gave Kir a questioning tilt of her eyebrows. "You're not hungry?"

"I'm starving," Kir admitted, and took a very large bite. She hadn't gone through as much protocol training as Arla and the other acolytes, but she knew how to hold her utensils properly. She ate slowly; with her squad, a sentinel had no time for proper manners. It was eat and go, shovelling down the bland meals before rushing back to duty.

At this table, the food was delicious, and Kir tried everything; even the white bread she usually despised had a soft texture and a slight sweetness.

"This is really good," she said with her mouth full and swallowed the whole thing in mortification. Vitalia laughed.

"Thank you very much. I'm glad you're enjoying it."

Kir had gone through three more mouthfuls before that registered. She stared down at her plate, almost cleared of all that food. "...you cooked this, Elu-- I mean, Vitalia?"

Vitalia nodded, her smile wide and pleased. "Yes, I did. I like to cook, and I thought it would be....nice if I..." she trailed off as Kir put down her spoon, very slowly. "Is something wrong?"

Kir closed her eyes tightly for a long moment. Possibly, when she opened her eyes, she would be back in her quarters, just the same old Kir. A regular sentinel in a regular room, eating a meal not cooked by the mortal manifestation of a powerful goddess.

"Kir?"

"What does a consort do, Vitalia?" Kir asked, her eyes still clenched shut. She heard the clinking sound of metal implements touching the fine plates and then silence.

"You know, I don't really know." Vitalia let out a little laugh, but it sounded strained to Kir's ears. "Gelnadyar told the most outrageous stories. And she kept by Lura's side."

Kir shook her head, and then opened her eyes. Vitalia stared back at her, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.