The Song of Roland Ch. 17

At last Kelsea's eyes managed to match his, peering at him like he was far away. In the distance, Carl ambled up to them. "Roland." She said, her voice quiet, empty of the normal lustful tones that ran like an undercurrent in all she did. "I'm so cold."

"You can't be-" He started to say, his hand reaching up to feel the disfigured horn on her head. When his fingers made contact Kelsea twitched her face away from him, letting out an agonized wail, like he'd just jostled a broken bone.

"Oh Gods!" She moaned, squeezing her eyes shut. An unintended tear built up in her left eye, the red eye. It beaded and rolled down her face. Her body heat came and went in oscillating surges: sometimes the typical demonic warmth, other times seeming almost human in its countenance.

This was all far beyond Roland's ability to process. He had never seen anything like this before. None of his extensive bestiary of knowledge could suss out the reason for this sudden change on the Succubus' features. The fact that he didn't know what was going on with her biology unnerved him. His grip tightened around her, pulling her close to his chest. The barrage of questions left his mind in a torrent. He forced himself to ask only the most pertinent ones. "What's going on? Why are you like this?"

Kelsea lips pulled back from her fangs in an injured grimace. Her breath came in slow, fickle bursts of emittance. "There- there was a rider." She managed out. "A... a white horse. But- n-not a horse. Not a- not a rider." She was babbling. Roland stupidly palmed her forehead, feeling for a fever, as if such a mortal concern could even apply to a Succubus. Her once silk-smooth black locks parted like bristles on a straw brush, yielding with only the most hesitating recalcitrance; it didn't even feel like real hair. His fingers touched upon a divot in the center of her brow. Checking again, Roland felt a mark like a small wound that pierced her head, parting the purple skin and leaving a blotchy pink ring around the indented scratch. It almost looked like it had been dyed the shade of flesh.

Roland's hand went to her cheek, cupping it in his hand as he gawked at the difference. "Kelsea, focus. Keep your eyes on me." She looked at him, her face an aspect of banal confusion as the mercenary felt all along her body. He was searching for anomalies, or further physical deviations to help explain what had happened. When he felt her chest, her heartbeat thrummed with the slow, plodding pace of a normal human being's. The unusual discrepancy in her pulse alarmed him.

"It called to me." She said, as he awkwardly set her down upon the ground. "I felt it-" The right side of her mouth gaped, and Roland watched in horror as her features shifted. Above her right cheekbone, a wave of color flooded from the corner of her mouth to her temple. The purple skin of her face rippled like water as a flash of humanity trailed across one side. The upper quarter of her face turned pink, her features changing to the distinctive shape of her old appearance; but flat. Dead. Her blue eye glazed over as it lost all semblance of awareness or coherence. The pupil drifted, listless like a raft in stormy waters across her inflamed eye socket. Her eyelid drooped as though the muscles in that area had gone lifeless and slack. The other half of her face continued to look straight at Roland, the expression on her Succubus side one of fear, and panic, and pain.

Like an elastic band snapping back, or a watercolor painting retaining its tinting, the uniformity of purple skin reasserted mastery over the pink. "Ungh!" She croaked out, the guttural sound coming from the bottom of her throat. The coat of demonic corruption varnished itself about Kelsea's entirety again like crawling rivulets of staining rainwater. In a moment's time, she regained the use of the right side of her face, the rolling languor of her momentary stupor receding like the tide as she blinked and snapped to attention. Roland watched the visible shift of energy in Kelsea's movements. She became immediately more alert - more controlled - than she'd been since leaving him to slumber the night before.

"I-" Kelsea let out the breath she had been holding in during the whole ordeal. She shook her head back and forth, trying in desperation to shake free from whatever wickedness that ailed her. "It's getting worse." Roland's hand touched her face. The unbearable heat was back, the flawless purity of her hair had regained its velvet luster. Her horns slowly shrank and reverted to their original, symmetrical position, as though all that had happened had been some strange fit or miasma. Carl was behind Roland now, standing with his bow in his hands, leaning against it like a makeshift cane. His green eyes gazed down with curious fascination at the proceedings.

"She looks unwell." He said, stating the obvious in that intolerable tone of his. The Harpy let out a worried screech above them that carried across the treetops.

"I can stand." She said, putting a hand to Roland's chest; he could hear the inherent strength and syrupy tone return to her voice. Her fingertips stroked him, trailing down to feel the exposed, healed skin where the Hautviech had torn a hole in his shirt the day before, now pristine and blemishless. Her warmth suffused him. "It comes and goes, that one was-" She huffed in air. "W-was bad. At times I feel almost normal, that was just-" Kelsea shook her head again.

"What, by the shining lights of Arjal was that?" Carl said, observing her sudden shift to lucidity with a look of befuddled puzzlement.

"You said there was a 'rider.'" Roland said, helping her slowly to her feet as his hands remained at her shoulders for support. Kelsea didn't seem to need the aid, but the red-maned mercenary didn't know what to do with himself. "A rider on a white horse." She nodded, brushing off the stray snow from her lap as she rose to stand.

"It's a blur... I couldn't see its face - but it wasn't human. The horse was- it glowed in the darkness. Neither of them seemed normal. I felt something drawing me out of the cave while you two slept last night, like a sound, or a feeling in my gut. It..." Kelsea swallowed; she still looked ill, but the symptoms were nowhere near as bad. Even her tail managed to gain some twitching life to it. "The rider cornered me. I felt it reach inside my head; it called me 'Child of Amphara.'"

"The old Love Goddess?" Carl said from behind them. They both turned, Roland kept a firm grip on her upper arm, though Kelsea gently shook it off. Carl merely let out a snort of amusement. "Bit of an antiquated title, if you ask me. Why didn't it call her by her new name: Huzra, Goddess of Lust. Patron deity of your entire fallen species."

"It was calling you a Succubus." Roland explained. "But in an odd way, using an ancient term for your kind."

"I just said that!" Carl retorted. "Arsehole."

Roland ignored him, lost as he was in his own thoughts. He tried to wrap his head around the peculiar incident, framing it within the mindset of a monster slayer. The thing had called to her, either psychically or in some way or fashion that the Succubus was unable to avoid heeding. It was inflicting... something upon Kelsea's biology: something damaging and debilitating, though not necessarily fatal to her person. All signs pointed to an unnatural spellcasting of some sort. The rider was then likely something magical in origin; could it have been a forest spirit? Perhaps a ghost, or a wight. He lifted the hair on Kelsea's brow again, peeling back the silky black locks to peer closely at the wound. "It pricked ya but good," His thumb swept across it, feeling the shift in skin. "This isn't a normal cut; the wound is spreading."

Dismissing his intent Kelsea leaned forward, kissing Roland on the mouth as she wrapped her arms around him. Roland, caught off guard, could only put his hands upon her back as she leaned into the embrace, standing on her tiptoes. She pulled back slowly from the feel of him. "I'm glad you're okay." She whispered, looking into his eyes. Her own pair had regained the red-rimmed characteristics of a normal Succubus. "You scared the life out of me, yesterday."

"-Speak for yourself." He said, taking her chin in hand and tilting it up to him. "You just got prodded by a some prat with a gleaming steed. Half yer face just went flaccid before my eyes; we've gotta deal with this. Now."

"How?" Carl said, stepping up to the two of them. Snow crunched beneath his feet. "As touched as I am by you two's undying love and devotion to..." He swiveled with his hand in a dismissive gesture as he indicated the two of them standing together, "whatever moral abomination this all is: we're stranded on a mountain peak, days from Arjal. Not to mention: I don't think bringing a purple-skinned creature of the seventh helspire to their tower and asking for alms is going to endear us to the snooty sots, do you?"

"We could at least find someplace warm." Roland said, "Someplace safe, not a shitheap like the Hautviech's lair, yeah? If we have to, the Harpy can scout out a place while we try to deal with the problem." He thumbed Kelsea's cheek. "How long have these... 'episodes' been occurring?"

Kelsea let out a heavy sigh, touching her forehead. "It's been like this since I woke up this morning. It gets stronger for a minute before tapering off."

"...Woke up?" Roland said, glancing back to meet Carl's skeptical expression. "What are you talking about? Demons don't sleep." Nor grow cold. Roland's mind added, further deepening his unease. Nothing seemed to make sense in this muddled situation.

"I know." Kelsea said, a marvelous smile building upon her beautiful features. She adopted a dreamlike expression as she beamed to herself. "I... I slept. It made me-" The Succubus couldn't stop herself from grinning, despite the clear layer of physical anguish that laid like a smothering blanket across her brow. "That thing made me sleep, for the first time since... Grevich."

"Kelsea-" Roland said.

"Who the fuck is Grevich?" Carl blathered; Roland shot him a dark glare. The blonde bowman thought for a moment, before a look of sudden understanding crossed his face. He let out a rough chortle. "Oh... Oh! I get it: the Demon who made your toes curl so much, you turned a whorish purple. Hell of a long day you've had, if that was the last time you got to sleep in."

"I'm going to wring your damned neck." Roland snapped, moving to hit Carl. Kelsea touched his arm, keeping him back.

"Dont." She said, "He's right... I'm glad I got that blessing from the rider at least, even if it feels like my insides are on fire. I can-" She grimaced, a small ripple of color swiping across her forehead near the wound. "I can talk to the Harpy, find out what she's seen of the plateau."

"Call her down, then." Carl said, yawning before perching himself cockily against a tree, leaning with a careless indifference in his posture against a nearby trunk. "The sooner we're off this frozen highland, the sooner I can warm up my ends and fringes."

Kelsea lifted her gaze to look up at the bird, staring down at them from a high angle. The blue-feathered creature tilted her head, spreading her legs to balance on the branch above, giving an unintended display of her slit and bubble butt. Seeing Kelsea beckon to her, the creature cawed in joy and dropped off the branch, landing nimbly with a thud on her feet next to them. She gave a welcoming warble to the three, holding out her hands like Roland had to her, as if beckoning Kelsea to plant her forearm upon it. Her grin was wide and infectious.

Kelsea took a halting step, moving into the bird's embrace. They kissed, Kelsea's eyes fluttering from the sudden application of blue lipstick to her face. "What have you seen?" She said softly to the cooing creature, "A-are there any caves or places for us to-" Before Kelsea could even finish speaking the bird began hooting loudly, her back arching as she grabbed Kelsea by the shoulders as if overwhelmed by the excitement of the telling. Kelsea's brow lifted as she listened to the creature spew out chittering noises, her face flushed from the bluish application. The Succubus unconsciously licked her lips.

"She-" Kelsea listened to the chirping for a moment more. "She says that there's a small town, here! It's got walls and buildings, at the base of the peak. There's..." Her face turned in confusion. "There's a building carved from rock near the very top of the mountain as well, up a long set of stairs."

"What?" Roland and Carl said as one. The two glanced at one another.

"This place is supposed to be devoid of settlement, as far as I know." Carl said. "At least the Briar Dogs sure thought so. We've crossed the High Road a dozen times, and this is the first time I'm hearing about a village."

"How far away?" Roland asked, noticing dimly the deep cold that was starting to settle in his bones. He wished only for a warm cloak and a bed... and something to help cure the Succubus' newfound ailment. He'd gladly give up two of those blessings for the last, at least.

The Harpy cawed. Kelsea nodded. "At the base of the mountain, a few miles through the woods."

"Well then!" Carl said, standing up and taking his bow into his hands with aplomb, "Let's be off, dearest companions! Nothing bad has ever come from venturing like blind moles into the unknown, eh? Except mayhaps some demonic enslavement and death." Roland dearly wished he had a weapon on hand to stab Carl with. "I don't know about you, but I'm a bit tired of freezing my bollocks off in this damned forest."

Roland pulled Keslea's pack back over his shoulder, nodding at the Harpy as she smacked her lips audibly, blowing an inviting kiss to to him. She twerked her hips and wiggled her rear in the mercenary's direction before leaping into the air again, clearing the treeline within a few flaps of her wings. Carl's sharp eye caught the direction she was going, and without a word began trudging after her, leaving his two companions alone for a moment.

They both waited till Carl was out of earshot, hanging in the awkward silence before they were sure he was gone. As if a paradigm being set loose, both threw their arms about the other in a rush, Kelsea burying her face in Roland's chest as the big man put his hand against the back of her head. He held her to him, feeling the warmth of her against his skin.

"Why-" He said, holding back something that rose like a weight within his chest. "Why do you keep finding all this trouble for yourself, you damned girl?" His arms clenched hard around her back. "Is a crippling addiction to cum really not enough for ya?"

Kelsea's hands clung to his body, holding him close as she breathed against his chest. "Shut up, Roland." She whispered, "Please, let me be like this. Just for a moment."

"How bad does it feel?" He said, "Truthfully." She was silent. It told him everything he needed to know. Roland hugged her tighter for a series of extended heartbeats. "We'll manage." He said, as if to assuage both of their worries at once. "Come on, we'd best get moving. Else we're like to lose track of that blonde fuck."

They moved through the trees, following the fresh footsteps of Carl till they caught up with him a short ways ahead. Carl cut the trail, moving with smooth footsteps and careful planning through the brush and deepening snow. The going was much quicker and easier, now that they weren't tracking a Succubus' sightless wanderings. The three avoided the deeper pitfalls and heavy foliage that had for the most part stymied their initial endeavour. In the space of a few hours they crossed the greater half of the plateau. The clouded sun began to sink dimly in the sky.

The tall mountain stood high above them, the mists shrouding the uppermost peak in a veil of fog and humid grey. The Harpy flew above them, trailing high above the treetops as the three began to notice a distinct thinning of the tickets. The size and density of the woods began to peter off, and soon they were walking through open stands of black pine, stepping across half-buried creeks and crawling root lines that tripped at their feet and impeded their progress.

"She likes you, you know; my little one. " Kelsea said behind him, staring after the Harpy's sailing figure following several hours of stifled voices integral to their huffing breath and labored footsteps. The bird was making quite the uproar, singing to them as she circled like an eager vulture far above. "She reminds me a bit of how I was with you, when we first met."

"A sex-crazed lunatic who tries to rape men?" Roland said, putting a hand flat against his exposed side to try to give warmth to his chilled body. The exertion was holding off the frostbite, but he would need to find shelter soon. Kelsea laughed, trailing behind him. He could hear a subtle strain in her voice, as if their casual banter were more forced than usual.

"Well, now that you mention it..." She ran a set of her fingers down his back; her touch was light and luxurious. "Though to be fair: I wasn't lying when I said that Sten and I were just getting frisky. All the men I took came of their own will."

"Maybe the first time, they did." Roland said, trudging forward, "-But after a couple more turns at your crotch, I'm pretty sure they came of your own will." Kelsea chuckled, her hand surreptitiously reaching down to grope his rear affectionately. He continued to move forward. "The bird talks." He said, "She called me by my name." His eyes turned to look at the Succubus. "...was that your doing?"

Kelsea's brow lifted. "No! But now you've got my interest piqued. She said your name?"

Roland stopped in his tracks and looked at her for a long moment, turning around upon the frozen path. "Rrrahland!" He said, the sound squeaking out from his thick whiskers in a gruff emittance. The red-maned mercenary tried to replicate the high pitched croak of the Harpy's voracious vocalization; it ended up sounding sublimely ridiculous. Caught off guard by his unexpected outburst, Kelsea began to laugh, covering her mouth with a modest hand as she struggled to keep a straight face in response to Roland's utterance. She failed, her shoulders hunching as the mirth wracked its way down her body. She pushed at Roland's shoulder lightly with her other hand.

"Gods, don't do that!" She said, her smile wide and infectious, "You sound like a dying banshee."

"Don't like my rendition?" He said, his vocal tone flat and his expression consciously empty as he maintained the jocular charade. "That's what she sounds like."

"Hah! First of all: no it's not." She stepped towards him and put a hand to his side, warming him with her searing touch. "Also, it completely ruins the 'enigmatic warrior' image you've built for yourself when you cry out like a loon."

"Thank the Gods you don't have that problem then, yeah?" He said, allowing a rough smirk to grow on his face. "You make way worse sounds than that, in bed."

Kelsea snorted, "That's just because-" She trailed off. An unnatural pause entering her voice. "Yourth thrying tuh-" Her words began to slur. "Thuh-uuuh-" She took an erratic step towards him, her eyes widening to cavernous, white circles.

The hand upon his stomach dropped away, sliding with a deadness of weight that dribbled off his person like an unintended collapse of motion. Roland grabbed her in alarm, watching the twitching expression build upon her face. Her other arm reached up to grasp his shoulder for support, but the first fell flat against her waist, hanging freely like it had been cut off from the rest of her nervous system. Her right shoulder sagged, one side of her body becoming dead weight as Roland lowered her to the ground for the second time.