The Duchess of Lust Ch. 04

"I am terribly sorry to hear about your illness," Sarya said smoothly. "My ally, Duke Lucan, has many skilled alchemists and healers in his army. If you like, I can-"

"Faith will be enough," Davik said. "Her prayers have sustained her for this long, and have even helped to improve her condition. Isn't that right, my lady?"

"Yes," Chera said, then yawned. She set her cup down, her hands still shaking. "And so...so what is the reason for your visit?"

"The siege of Fellhaven, of which I am sure you are familiar."

Chera stared blankly for a few moments, then nodded.

"Yes. Those savage southerners. I have prayed for your city, and for the souls of the invaders, that they may see the light of the gods."

"Northerners, my lady," Davik said with a fatherly pat to the duchess' shoulder. "They are northerners."

"And I have come to ask for your aid," Sarya went on, her puzzlement growing. What, exactly, was wrong with Chera? What disease left her so dazed that she could barely remember basic facts?

"With your help, we can lift the siege of Fellhaven, and prevent other duchies from being likewise attacked. If my homeland falls, I fear that Wolfgate may be next."

"Wolfgate is blessed by the gods," Davik said firmly. "Our faith shall keep the heathens at bay, just as our faith has kept countless other foes at bay."

Sarya ground her teeth.

"And what of the other duchies, then?"

"If they embrace the divine will of the gods, then they too shall be saved."

She struggled to keep her composure, because the man was implying that Fellhaven was only suffering due to its lack of faith.

"So you will not march to our aid?" She swung her gaze from Davik towards Chera, hoping to remind the other duchess that she was the one who held the actual power, not the High Priest.

"We...will pray for the people of Fellhaven," Chera murmured. She looked briefly to Davik, as if for approval, and the priest smiled and patted her shoulder again.

"Prayers are not enough," Sarya said, her tone quivering with a bit of irritation. "We need soldiers, supplies, steel. If you will not send your armies or your priests to aid us, at least let us recruit volunteers from among your barons."

"And drain the strength of our vassals in this time of strife?" Davik snorted. "That would be foolish, not to mention without precedent. The barons of one duchy leaving their homes to fight for an outsider? Preposterous!"

"What is preposterous is that we have a chance to strike down the Iron Blades before they can wreak more havoc, and you are doing nothing," Sarya snapped, her rage finally getting the better of her.

Davik's eyes widened, and he made another holy gesture.

"I understand your frustration, my lady. And we have been quite welcoming. But the hospitality of Wolfgate has its limits. The duchess did not invite you here so you could berate her in her own home."

"Yes," Chera said with a firm nod, her eyes staring out at the lake once more.

Sarya took a few breaths to calm herself.

"Then will you at the very least allow us to march through your lands?" she asked Chera.

"Yes," Chera said, and Davik bristled a bit. "As long as you stop to pray and pay your respects at the shrines along the way, so that the gods may bless your soldiers and your efforts."

"I have heard that there are barbarians among your army," Davik said. "Is this true?"

"It is. They are loyal to myself and Duke Lucan, but they shall cause you no trouble, my lady," Sarya said, deliberately speaking just to her fellow duchess.

"Very well," Chera said with a lazy wave of her hand. "You may pass through. But we shall give no soldiers, no weapons. Only our prayers will go with you."

Sarya gritted her teeth, but forced a smile and nodded.

"Thank you, my lady." She finished her tea and rose, and curled her fingers against her palms to help calm herself down. Despite her growing rage and curiosity, she smiled sweetly at the duchess and the High Priest, then turned and walked back towards the estate.

There was nothing more to be done, at least directly. For some reason, Davik was absolutely opposed to offering any direct aid, and somehow he'd bent Chera entirely to his whims, reducing her to a mere puppet.

As she walked, her mind raced, thinking back to their talk the night before about drakesong. Chera did seem nearly catatonic, as if she was half-asleep or even drunk. Could Davik be poisoning her with small doses of drakesong to make her more pliant and susceptible to his influence?

If so, that would be damned difficult to counter. They'd have to find out how he was administering it, then find a way of counteracting it or weaning her off of it.

And there was still the matter of that tower...

Her eyes darted towards the structure, then she sighed and resumed her walk up towards the estate.

***

As Neryth had expected, the negotiations had soured, so the captain had set to planning a little excursion out towards the tower. She and the duchess had gone on several walks along the shore, ostensibly to pass the time, but in truth Neryth took the opportunity to scout out the beaches, the routes of patrols, and the best way to get out to the tower.

There were no currents or waves, so she'd be able to easily manage a swim. The trick was to do so without getting caught.

If only Ketrik had been there to conjure that useful shadow magic of his...

But Neryth had infiltrated secure structures before, without the aid of magic. So she bided her time, talking walks through the grounds of the estate and sparring with Lucan's knights until nightfall.

While Sarya retired to have some evening tea and snacks with the knights, Neryth slipped out of her quarters. To help keep things quiet, she'd removed her boots and armor, wearing only her leggings and vest. She'd left her sword behind, too, since it would have been damned difficult to swim with it strapped to her back. The only tools she took were some rope, lockpicks, a climbing spike and two throwing knives, just in case.

Neryth padded down the wide marble steps. She heard voices coming from down the hall, closer to the kitchen, so she scurried on past, through an empty reading room and out a door that led to the overgrown gardens.

Leaves and grass rustled beneath her bare feet as she moved, sticking to the shadows. As she neared the lakeshore, she heard more voices, then paused until they'd faded.

Neryth ducked beneath a large tree and paused, her eyes scanning over the beach. Further to the left was a patrol of five mace-wielding priests, walking in the other direction. On the right were two other priests, a few hundred feet away, kneeling at the lakeshore to pray.

Thankfully, clouds had obscured much of the moonlight, so she darted out and made her way towards the water.

Neryth could have gone for a swift and strong swim, but doing so would have been quite loud. So instead, she slipped into the water slowly, and shivered at the icy embrace of the lake, then she began to make her way further into the water.

Neryth trembled and cursed at the cold, but managed to keep her head above the water. It was deep enough now that her toes no longer grazed the bottom, and she still had more than a hundred yards to go.

She moved on ahead, until she spotted a flicker of torchlight from one of the windows of the tower. She cursed and dove beneath the water, swimming slowly through the icy blackness. Neryth continued to move and used her keen sense of orientation to keep herself pointed in the right direction, until her legs burned for air.

Inwardly cursing and hoping that no sentries had appeared on the island, she finally surfaced, her lungs gasping for air. The torch was still lit, but she saw no one on the island or within the tower.

She looked back to the shore: the priests were still praying and the patrol still moved, but they clearly hadn't spotted her.

"You lot should pray for better eyesight," she grumbled, then resumed her journey.

Within a few minutes she reached the sandy shore of the island, and she knelt to catch her breath and to ensure she hadn't lost any of her gear during the swim. Satisfied that all was well, she rose and moved quietly to the tower, then paused to let herself dry off a little.

Tromping around that tower while dripping wet was a sure way to get herself caught.

She waited a few minutes longer, just listening. She could hear muffled voices from within the tower: the words were rhythmic and repetitive. Someone inside was likely praying or chanting.

Neryth crouched low and moved to the door, and peeked in through the small slits of the window. The lower floor of the tower was a small chapel: the walls covered with religious symbols and holy paintings. Six robed men knelt on the floor, hands raised as they prayed. Beyond them was a narrow staircase, and there was no way she'd be able to get to those stairs without being spotted.

She grumbled quietly and stepped back, craning her head up to examine the exterior of the tower. The fine brickwork looked like she'd be able to scale it relatively easily, but doing so without being spotted would be tricky.

Neryth slowly circled around the tower, to the side that faced away from the estate and its patrols, then began to climb. Her fingers, feet and arms burned with protest as she moved, but she clung to the gaps between the bricks, and used what handholds she could to move upwards. Grunting and sweating, she made it to a windowsill on the second floor, but it was sealed shut from within.

She took the climbing spike from her belt and used it to ascend further. The next window was sealed as well: bashing it in would have created a huge racket that would have drawn the guards, so she kept going, kept hoping for an open window.

After another minute of climbing, she spotted a small window near the top of the tower: it was the same one she'd spotted earlier, and it still glowed with the light of a torch. Neryth continued to ascend, then paused beneath the window, her climbing spike working into a gap between the bricks. She gasped for air and steadied herself, then gripped the windowsill and pulled herself up.

Inside was a narrow hallway that was thankfully empty. Neryth grinned with relief, pulled herself up, and set her bare feet on the cold wooden floor.

At one end of the hallway was a staircase that led down. A ladder led upwards to the next floor, and at the other end of the hallway was a large, heavy wooden door. Neryth slowly approached and rested her ear against the door, but heard nothing from the other side.

She gently tested the handle: it was locked, which was quite curious. This tower was isolated and watched over by monks on the lowest floor. So what was so important that it was locked up at the top?

She pulled her set of lockpicks from her pack, then set to work. As the tools clicked and churned within the keyhole, Neryth glanced over her shoulder every few moments to ensure she was alone.

The lock clicked, she grinned in triumph, then slowly pushed her way inside.

The door opened to a small circular room: the walls were lined with bookshelves, filled with religious texts. She raised an eyebrow: all this trouble for a secret library? She entered the room and quietly closed the door.

At the other end of the library was another door, smaller than the last. She approached and pressed her ear against the door, and her eyes widened at what she heard.

Soft, quiet gasps and little moans echoed through the door. Clearly, a woman on the other side was getting up to some fun: it sounded as if she was alone, though.

What was a woman doing in this tower, and why was she locked up? Her curiosity, for the moment, overwhelmed the flicker of lust, and she bent down to peep through the keyhole.

The next room was a small bedroom, the walls likewise lined with shelves of religious books. There was a desk covered with papers, and a small bed, upon which writhed a young blonde woman.

From what Neryth could tell, the woman was clad in a simple, short robe, like something one of the monks would wear. She was on her back, her pale legs spread wide, her fingers working desperately over her sex. Her other hand clutched at her breast, groping herself as she writhed and gasped.

Neryth watched, entranced and curious. The woman was a bit on the plump side, and had a pretty, heart-shaped face, and her curly blonde hair was splayed out on the bed.

The woman whimpered, bit her lip, then shuddered and let out a squeak. Her back arched as she came, and Neryth grinned, watching the other woman shudder and convulse.

But who exactly was she?

The woman panted a bit, then slumped against the bed. A minute passed, and the blonde curled up beneath her blankets, snuggling up against one of the pillows. After another minute, she was asleep.

Neryth's gaze continued to inspect the room through the peephole: on the desk were several large, leather-bound tomes that looked like journals. She guessed they belonged to the captive woman, and would no doubt shed some light as to who she was.

She could steal the journal to get a clue as to who the woman was, or wake her up and ask her directly, which would prove too risky.

After waiting another few minutes to ensure the blonde was asleep, Neryth tested the doorknob. It opened slowly, and she winced as the door creaked. But the blonde did not stir.

Once inside, she carefully closed the door, and kept her eyes glued to the sleeping young woman, then crossed the room over to the desk.

Her eyes swept over the open pages of the journal, occasionally looking back at the bed to ensure the woman still slept.

The page discussed the events of the day: breakfast, prayers, reading, dinner and a lesson with her father. The page gave no indication as to who the girl was or who her father was, so Neryth flipped to a previous page.

That one was much the same, and so was the one before that. The captive's life seemed to just be a simple succession of meals, prayers and reading.

Neryth's heart ached with sympathy, and then burned with anger for whoever had done this. Nobody deserved to be cooped up like that...except for someone like Garnoc, perhaps.

Suddenly a sharp sound rang from down below: a chiming bell. Neryth cursed inwardly, and looked towards the door, wondering if she could make a dash for it before the woman awoke...

But it was too late.

The blonde's eyes fluttered open, then narrowed with apparent irritation at the sound of the bell. Her eyes then settled on Neryth, and she gasped with shock. Immediately the woman reached beneath her pillow, pulling out a small, dull knife.

"Easy there, lass," Neryth said smoothly, spreading her arms to the side. "Not here to hurt you."

"Then why are you here?" the woman hissed, though her voice trembled a little.

"Complicated. But why don't you tell me what that bell means, first?"

"It means a visitor is coming to pray with the monks. High Priest Davik." Neryth caught a flicker of disgust in the woman's eyes at the mention of him. "And if you don't tell me what you're up to, I'll scream. He and his men will come, and they'll toss you from the top of this tower or take your head. Or worse."

Neryth thought for a moment. Clearly Davik was keeping the young woman captive, so she had to seize on the woman's predicament and her apparent distaste for the High Priest.

"I'm investigating. Trying to figure out what Davik is up to."

The woman lowered the knife.

"So you're not going to scream, I take it?" Neryth asked.

"No. Not as long as you tell me who you are investigating on behalf of."

"Answer a few questions of mine, first. What's your name and why are you here?"

"Velwen. I'm..." She swallowed. "I'm Davik's daughter."

Neryth's eyes bulged at that.

"What? He's a proper priest, right? Sworn to celibacy?"

"Exactly." She blushed. "Which is why I am here. Since my very existence is a sin, I am a source of shame, so I am kept here for the sake of both our souls." But it didn't sound as if the lass really quite believed that.

"And you don't want to be here, I take it?"

Velwen snorted.

"Gods, no. But you still haven't answered my question. Who do you work for?"

"Another duchess. Someone who came here to help win a war, but Davik has Duchess Chera wrapped around his finger. Controlling her somehow, and now we can't get the support we need for Wolfgate. I came here to snoop around, to see what Davik was hiding, maybe gain some leverage for the negotiations."

Neryth took a few steps closer. The woman flinched a bit, then relaxed.

"Now for another of my questions, lass: what exactly is he up to?"

"What is he up to? He's 'up to' ruling Wolfgate, that's what."

"So the duchess...she's drugged, I take it? That was our theory."

"It would not surprise me. He...he kept me drugged for a time, too, until the side effects worsened and my life was at risk."

"Fuck," she murmured. "I'm sorry, lass."

Velwen's eyes widened.

"You musn't use such foul language, it-"

She then shook her head and laughed a little.

"I'm being ridiculous. So used to being raised by my pious father and those stern monks."

"Right," Neryth said. "I...I think I may have a plan. You may not like it, and the duchess I'm helping may not like it, either. But I can get you out of here."

"Wait...what? Why?"

"Because you're Davik's dirty little secret. If we expose that secret, or threaten to, his grasp over this duchy might collapse, and then we can negotiate openly. Or we can use this secret to get ourselves the help we need."

"So I would be but a pawn for you."

"Believe me, lass, I'm a pawn of a sort, too. But you won't be a prisoner. Just getting you out of here will be enough to spook him into backing down, I bet." She took another step closer. "I know this is insane, but-"

"I don't even know your name," Velwen protested.

"Neryth. Captain Neryth, in the service of Duke Lucan of Ravenmark."

"Yes, my father said the civil war there was over, that there would be a new duke. Didn't expect a captain of the new duke to barge into my bedchambers, though."

"I snuck in. Didn't barge in," Neryth said with a grin, earning a soft laugh from the other woman.

Another blush came to the blonde's face.

"And another question," Velwen said. "How long...how long were you sneaking about in the hall outside my door?"

Neryth gave a sly wink.

"Long enough, my dear." The woman's blush deepened, then she rose from the bed. She moved to stand over beside the barred window, and was silent for nearly a minute, collecting herself.

"Do you believe in the gods, captain?" Velwen asked after a moment.

"No," Neryth admitted.

"Then what do you trust in? What would you swear on?"

"I trust myself, and not much else. And I'd swear on..." Neryth cocked her head. "Steel. I'd swear on my steel. My weapons.."

"Then do it," Velwen said firmly. "Swear on your steel, captain, that you will not betray me, that you'll not make me a prisoner with just a different captor."

Neryth pressed her fingers to the hilt of her dagger.

"I swear," she said solemnly. "Now I have a thousand other fucking questions, but we need to get you out of here."

"And where will we go?" Velwen asked.

"Back to the camp of Duke Lucan, across the border. We'll get you out of here, then figure things out."

But first she'd have to find a way to talk this over with Sarya...she suspected the woman might explode with shock or anger once she realized that Neryth had absconded with the High Priest's daughter.

"Can you swim?" Neryth asked.

The blonde nodded, rose to her feet, then began to get dressed. She pulled on a thicker robe, and slipped into some sturdy sandals.