The Saga of Tallia the Unwilling Ch. 11

Disclaimer: Everyone is over eighteen. If you are not deeply into fantasy pulp fiction, gender fluidity and pansexuality, you are in the wrong place. This chapter is full of violence and hot wizard on Amazon action. No sex, though. Sorry. You have been warned!

BEHOLD! I, Thutmose-Neferkare, royal scribe, chief librarian and high priest of the divine Ra do bid thee welcome back for the eleventh scroll in "The Saga of Tallia the Unwilling". And it's a good one by the way. Very exciting. But enough about that. Let us instead take this opportunity to discuss about more important matters. Let's talk about... me.

I've been asked several times via various inquiries and messengers -- "Oh, most august and exalted high priest of Ra, what is a typical day like for thee? We, the little people, crave to bask in thy splendor!" Oh, my dearest disciples, most sincere of sycophants, my finest and most favorite of fawning fandoms, how can I say no to thee? So, here you have it -- a day in the life of Thutmose-Neferkare.

First of course, with the dawn, I rise from my place of resting. Fun fact -- I, like the divine Ra, am definitely a morning person. I am greeted by my bevy of house slaves who bow before me and beat the gong of joy at my awakening. My thirteen favorite concubines -- the 'bod squad' as I like to call them -- do cleanse and bathe me and... well, let's just say it's not only the gong of joy that takes a beating.

Anyways, I take my breakfast just like any other man. Today for example, I repasted on humble fair -- a honey cake, curried larks' tongues, baked spiced aardvark liver, fricasseed pangolin heart, and rarest berries from the slopes of the holy mountain, and of course tea. And then I'm off in my favorite sporty little chariot to the temple. But I do try to make time to catch the morning news from my favorite herald on the way to work.

The sub-priests greet my arrival at the temple and sing a song in celebration of my return. Then I dispatch my enforcers to make sure those laggards understand both their assigned duties and their place in my esteem. And then, it's just work work work all day. I issue decrees, I oversee my underlings, I order miscreants set aflame and yes I commune with the most high. Being a high priest is oh so demanding.

But as the sun starts to go down, I take a moment out of my day and save everyone's life by politely asking the divine Ra to please return in the morning. He has so far agreed. You are all welcome by the way. Then I'm done with temple and off to enjoy the night life of the Holy City. Yes, my friends, the exalted Thutmose-Neferkare is no stranger to a good time. The Chosen of Ra knows how to party!

I catch dinner at only the trendiest of dining spots and then -- it's time to get my dancing sandals on. My preferred haunt is a little placed called... oh, stop me if you've heard of it... Studio Bast. That's right. I confess! I'm a regular at the hottest night spot in town. In fact, I'm on a first name base with the high priestess Isis-Anet. Yes, Izzy's pet name for me is Swing Tut. Cute. And a fine way to get set on fire, if you happen not to be the hottest cat priestess on the planet.

Anyways, I'd like to go on about the things that happen at Studio Bast, but honestly, I'm sworn to secrecy. I roll out at half past late and chariot myself back home. Look out nightwalkers! Swing Tut will be lit! And then I roll into bed, rest up and get ready to do it all over again come the morrow.

It's a hard life and one that really I don't think most people could endure. But I have fun with it. And armed with my eternal faith in my bestest of buds, the divine Ra, I know the good times will keep on rolling.

Yay, let it be written! Yay, let it be done!

Chapter Eleven: Shoot it Straight in the Eye

Liandra awoke unusually first at what they were now sure was actually morning. Sang and Hilarius had just returned from the surface not long ago, so they once more had insight into the cycle of sun and moon even so deep underground. She knew why she was up so early. She was troubled, haunted, by a flood of memory.

She remembered all those years ago, when she was not even yet grown. She had awaken early that morning as well. She had risen and looked out over the farms surrounding Amathus beneath the shadow of the sacred temple hill. It was fall and everywhere the fields were golden, thick with grain almost ready to harvest. It was glorious autumn morning -- clear and sunny and you could see all the way to the blue sea. The fishing boats were already out, eager to find their daily catch.

She was twelve the day her mother died. She remembered so clearly, even years later, her mother's last words to her. "I must do something very important today but very dangerous. I need you to stay at the temple. Remain close with the flame keeper. She'll keep you safe. Whatever happens, know that you are my joy and my life, my little lioness. I love you so much. Now show mommy how you roar."

"Rarrr!" she had said, so playfully, so sweetly. It had made her mother smile. But even then, she could tell that her mother was troubled.

Before that moment, her life in Amathus had been an idyllic one. She was the daughter of the high priestess, a position of privilege. She was tutored unusually extensively for a little girl. The temple tutors taught her to read and do sums. They taught her poetry and the teachings of the Lord and Lady of Love and how to sing and make music in honor of the sacred androgyne. She learned the history of her venerable order and the stories of gods and heroes.

And when she was not preparing for her place in the priesthood, she had the island itself to explore. Amathus was a beautiful port city, surrounded by an even more beautiful countryside. The lush greens of the field, the sapphire blues of the sea, the white stone of the hills and cliffs -- her memories it seemed were mainly colors.

The whole world sang to her. She felt the love in the mountain wildflowers straining for the sun. She saw the herds of goats and listened to their glories and grousing as they strolled across the rugged rocky hillsides. She heard the birds singing loudly, proclaiming their desire, their prowess, their blustery boasts. She swam in the oceans naked beneath the smiling sun. She was certain then that she would never leave this blessed isle.

In those moments, she understood completely her place in the world, her duty and her destiny. And at the center of it all was her mother. She was everything to the little Liandra. She was her world and in her face, the little priestess saw the divine.

But all that came crashing down as the sun left the sky that day. She received word of what had happened only many hours later, only after night had finally fallen. The Keeper of the Sacred Flame, Lady Konstantina, gave her the news.

"Your mother is dead, little one," said the tearful keeper. "Cassandra died a hero. She saved the kingdom and our temple from a great evil that no one else saw. You should be proud."

But Liandra wasn't proud. She was angry. She was betrayed. How could she leave her? She wept wild and inconsolable tears until dawn. Only over the course of years did she come to understand what had really happened. She learned the truth that no one wanted to tell her. Her mother's murderer had escaped!

Arion Three-Eyes was alive. He was out there somewhere and no one could say where. The wizard had evidently been aware that Cassandra was coming for him. He probably planned to entrap and enslave her as well. But just in case that didn't work, he had a ship ready and waiting in the harbor. He was all too well prepared to escape the justice that he so richly deserved.

What Cassandra succeeded at doing was facing the wizard in the presence of the enthralled king. She resisted the wizard's mind control and, as she stabbed Arion with her dagger and forced him to flee, broke his control over the king and his councilors. She saved everyone but not before the wizard stabbed her with a poisoned blade of his own.

For years, Liandra was helpless before the truth. A little girl could do nothing. But finally, she replaced the aged Konstantina as the Keeper of the Sacred Flame. It was a rare honor to bestow on one so young. It was then, alone in the dark watches of the night, that the fire spoke to her. Inspired by the flame's words, she betrayed the trust of the Temple of the Lord and Lady of Love, stole the jeweled eyes from the great statue that overlooked the sacred dire and used those jewels to finance her hunt for the wizard who killed her mother. Just like the wizard, she stole away on a ship, headed to parts unknown.

That was when she learned that she could become Liander. She changed her flesh into a young man. Travel was still perilous of course, but far less so than as a single woman. For almost a year, Liander became her preferred form as she made her way ever eastward. As she finally interpreted what the riddle of the flame truly meant, she drew ever closer to her vengeance.

Now, she was an outcast of her faith, but at last her goal was within reach. This was it -- this was the day her and her companions once more would meet Arion Three-Eyes in battle. This was the day, at last, she would either avenge her mother or join her in death.

***

Tallia awoke and discovered she was much recovered. More than that, she was much too recovered. She had three arrows sticking in her the day before, not to mention a probably broken arm. But now as she rose and removed her bandages, those injuries were only slight scars and even those were quickly fading. Even her arm was mended and strong once more. Was it the panacea that Mela had given her? Or was it the power of the Amazons that flowed through her? Maybe it was both.

She got out of bed and walked naked down to the dock just outside the house. She dived in the sunless sea and felt the cold water wash over her. Only yesterday, she would have never been so reckless. She was alone, unarmed and naked in this dead ghost city. But now as she emerged, dripping from the water, she felt somehow different. If she could survive what she had been through yesterday, maybe she could survive anything.

Gods on high and in hell, why was she still alive? How could she have survived so long in the arena, against so many monsters and demons, even against the hunters of the Three-Eyed King? Was this part of some divine scheme? Was she the pawn of the gods in some great game? What did they fucking want from her?

She flexed her once broken arm. She walked over to a block of dark fallen stone. This block, her mind told her, was far too large for any person to lift. It must have weighed -- what? As much as ten men? It was hard to be sure. She got her arms around it. She put her legs and her back into it. She lifted the dark purple graven stone up with a grunt. She then hefted it overhead with one tremendous effort. Her entire naked body trembled under the strain and then she threw it in the water with a colossal splash.

That was not human. She saw it so clearly now. She wasn't just transformed into a woman by that damned sword. She was transformed into some sort of -- gods, Liandra would know the word -- something else. She walked back inside and saw the priestess who was also up and awake and seemed deep in her own contemplation.

"What are we?" Tallia asked the priestess. "Everyone here, save I think Hilarius and Sang, we aren't exactly human are we."

"We are touched by the gods, mighty Tallia," answered Liandra. "I was born into a line that claims to be descended directly from a god. The sidhe are often described as the kin of the gods. Zara -- I do not yet know what Zara is exactly -- but the fire of the heavens burns in her heart. And you, Tallia called the Unwilling, have a made a bond of blood with something divine."

"So, we are gods?"

"No, we are their lost children. We are hemitheos, the half-gods," whispered Liandra. "It is not unusual that we should band together. In fact, I think it is at the very heart of wayward half-gods to seek the company of their own kind."

Tallia nodded. "Even Arion felt this as well. He wanted me to join with him, to aid him in his quest for empire."

"He is our mad brother," said Liandra. "He is hurting people with his power and has turned away from his parentage to worship... darker powers."

"I do not want this purpose or this power. I never did."

"Neither did I," said Liandra. "I wanted to live in peace within my temple alongside my mother, near where the wildflowers sang. But the fire spoke to me, Tallia, as I think the fire within your own heart speaks to you now. And so we are bound to this errand."

"When we are done with Arion, I still mean to try and find a way to break this bond," spoke the Amazon. "I hope to once more reclaim my humanity. If I do, will you still travel with me then?"

"The Lord and Lady of Love have given me many gifts, mighty Tallia, but I am no oracle. I cannot see the future. I go where the fire leads."

Tallia was not surprised that Liandra's answer was cryptic. She was also not entirely sure about all this wayward half-god business. No fires had spoken to Tallia -- just a sword. But she was now clear what she had to do. She had been lost before when Hilarius left, lost without hope, despairing in the dark of this dead city. She despaired no longer. It was time to face that fucking wizard and end this matter.

The Amazon began to walk back to her bed chamber where her lovers from last night still slept. It was time to awaken.

***

The six companions got underway early from ruined Gaelynglas. Tallia was unsure about bringing Zara with them, still not entirely sure about Liandra's claims that she was not a demon. Regardless of what she was or was not, she definitely had been only yesterday a willing agent of the wizard. But the only alternatives to dragging her along were killing her, which the priestess would not allow, or setting her free which everyone agreed was folly. So, she was coming with them.

They shared the only rations they had -- more of the sidhe cheese gifted to them by Lord Bressian. Those who had never tried it before, agreed it was good. Tallia, in truth, was tired of the stuff. But it was far better than starvation and she would need her strength today.

Mela repaired and reforged both Tallia's spear and her shield. Luckily, the spear's haft was still intact. Zara had cut the metal blade, not the irreplaceable wood. They recovered the three sidhe daggers and gave them to Hilarius. He seemed well pleased with the blades. Liandra took a short blade from a dead beast-man. Sang of course still had her bow and Zara had, as always, her flame. Tallia cursed her lack of armor yet again but had long made her peace with its absence. At least she had a fine sidhe-forged spear and shield. She also took a beast-man blade as a sidearm. They were, at last, as ready to face this day as they could be.

"So, dare I ask," said Hilarius as they traveled through the ruin once more, towards the Magister's Gate, "do we have anything close to a plan other than 'get him'?"

Zara spoke up, "Arion is expecting me to report to him as soon as I return. If I come in, hooded so he cannot see my new hue of skin and report success, we might catch him off guard. The rest of you can pose as the surviving beast-men in my entourage."

"Oh, yes?" said Tallia. "And if you decide to betray us to your master? What then?"

Zara gave no answer to that harsh rebuke.

Liandra though did speak up, "Tallia, for shame! She was as much a slave as we all were. The stave removed her control. We can trust her. I sense great love within her."

Zara smiled weakly at the priestess' defense. The Amazon was less moved. "Even if all you say is true, she was in the service of the wizard for longer than any of us. There is no way to be sure her control is broken without facing Arion and wagering all our lives."

Sang nodded in agreement with Tallia.

"Okay, so then, I ask again," said the rogue. "Anyone got a plan?"

Tallia pondered this. "You two attacked the front gate, yesterday, right? We've got a couple signal horns now thanks to Rontus' crew. We could blow a false alarm. Declare the gate under attack again. That will draw off all the beast-men and we sneak up to the wizard's sanctum and catch him there either unguarded or lightly guarded."

"Then Arion's fully alert to an attack and ready to meet us," said Hilarius. "I like Zara's plan better than that. Sang and I did have a sort of plan, but it got cocked up yesterday. We were going to play hit and run and kill as many of the Sons of Arion as we could first."

Mela spoke up. "But that would still alert him to our attack."

"Only if we attack immediately," explained Hilarius. "If we keep this up for several days, his soldiers will be depleted and then we attack when he's ill-rested and his defenses are down."

"Arion might flee," said Liandra. "He's done it before. If we truly succeed at rendering him vulnerable, he'll escape like a shot. No, we have to strike now! I say we trust Zara and carry out her plan."

No one else spoke up in favor of that course and there was again a long silence, as they traveled.

"We could return to the White Isle and consult once more with the ghost of the High Magister," suggested Mela. "He may know a way to repair the stave and remove the wizard's magic."

"I'm none too keen to risk that crossing again," said Tallia. "Those demons may have let us pass once, but I am hesitant to rely again on their good graces."

"And eventually," said Zara, "he's going to know Rontus is dead and I've been liberated from his control. If we are really worried about him fleeing, that might provoke it. I agree with Liandra. Any plan must be carried out soon."

"So, we're back to sneak up to his sanctum and hope for the best, eh?" said Hilarius. "'Get him' it is then. I just want to point out that we already tried that and it failed miserably."

They move quietly through the dark caverns of the sidhe, each of them uncertain if any of these proposed plans had any real hope of working.

***

The troupe arrived at last in the prisons of Arion Three-Eyes, a place they knew now all too well. The followed the flickering torchlight once more to the crack in the grey stone that connected the sidhe tunnels to the lowest part of the wizard's fortress. They were ready for a bevy of brutish beast-men guards. What they were not ready for was the major domo Diagoras, sitting alone on a stool beside a wooden table, drinking deeply from a wine skin that he clutched in a pincer-like claw. There was signal horn on the table within easy reach. He seemed to be sweating and murmuring to himself.

Sang saw him first of course and silently knocked a barbed arrow. Liandra waved her off and quietly approached. That's probably when the major domo heard them.

"There is no reason to hide," said Diagoras weakly, "I know you're there."

The major domo reached out for the signal horn with his one still human hand and then drew it back, sweating even more profusely and grunting in pain. Instead the major domo took another long draw of strong wine from the skin.

"What are you doing here, monster?" asked Liandra, emerging from the shadows with her blade drawn.

"Why, my dear daughter, I am guarding the dungeons," said Diagoras with mock officiality. "I sent all the other Sons away to secure the front gate in case of a concerted attack. But that left the dungeons unguarded, so here I am, serving my master as always." He took another long draw from the wine skin. His speech seemed slightly slurred to Liandra.