The Song of Roland Ch. 18

"Huzra." Bogdan said, and the air simmered for a moment. "Goddess of Lust. Mistress of Rape; the Queen of Violation. From her unwanted lover's seed spawned the last and least of the Children of Amphara: the Demons." The ageless man's hands reached out, grasping Roland's own. The disturbed mercenary jerked back, but something bade him hold his place, and he did not pull free from Bogdan's touch. "Gone is her love for others; now she hates everyone, herself most of all. She is the overseer of her own experience, the ruler of the darkest aspects of her power. Degradation, subjugation, sexual conquest... do these qualities ring familiar, to you?"

Roland did not know how to answer. Bogdan's hands were cold and firm as iron against his wrists. "Yes, Roland. Even she: even your own Succubus. They are all a product of the same pain, the same suffering inflicted upon the fairest of the divine. Her first Demonic children spread the taint, like a virus, or a disease transmitted through the act of mating."

"You know them as 'Imps,' pale reflections of the other races. They steal the aspects of their mother's form, while retaining none of the goodness. Cows, dogs, monsters, elves, men... it matters not. They can breed with anything, and everything; some say they are even capable of impregnating the very earth itself. Their only goal is to reenact that first, profane indignity upon the rest of Amphara's progeny, and they take to it with gusto. Rape is their worship, sacrilege their sacrament."

Bogdan's hand trailed down to touch Roland's right thigh. "Their wounds remain upon you still, though your Succubus has done her best to hide the damage. You've fought them before, yes? I can feel their insidious taint upon you."

"Aye." Roland said, stepping back from his cold grasp. "They sniffed out Kelsea, tried to make a broodmother out of her."

"And you defended her." Bogdan's gaze was impossible to gauge. "Impressive... if pointless. What is one more debasement to a being who's already lost everything? Perhaps you'd have been better served leaving her to her fate."

"No." Roland replied, "I'd rather have been slain, myself."

Bogdan's smile was corpse like, stretching wide across his papery face. "How very valiant of you. But there are far darker fates for one who is taken by an Imp, than an early audience with Horax. They don't want you dead, Roland. They want you alive, and... 'wriggling.' How else might they complete their ordained task, than by turning you into that which ruins you?" The Priest's hands went to his sides. "It is Huzra's final vengeance upon the world that abandoned her: the last, despairing strike back against her fellow, unfallen Gods. The taint of Demonism."

"Why tell me this." Roland said, his hands clenching into fists. "I didn't need to know any of this."

Bogdan shook his head. "No, you didn't want to know. Tonight the very beasts of which I've spoken will come like a plague to pillage this place. You have brought a Demon to our very doorstep, through these flimsy gates, in the very hour of our desperation. Had I not seen her sickness with mine own eyes I'd have guessed this a trick, that she was herself the instigator of this infestation. Yet she comes at an auspicious time, bringing with her two men uniquely qualified to help us face this menace. And a Harpy, besides."

"I'll do what I must, to make sure she's safe." Roland replied. "If that means killin' some wee runt cunts with overwrought sex drives, then so be it."

"I know you will do what you can, Roland." Bogdan said, his dark eyes unblinking as they stared. "My concern is what comes after the immediate danger has passed, and where we go from here. My God owes a debt to Amphara and his own, bastard children that he can never truly repay, nor apologize for. So it falls to me, his mortal servant, to do what little I can."

Roland lifted and lowered the overlong dagger in its sheath, grumbling at its uncomfortability. "Can you help her? I only want-"

"I know what you want for her, boy." Bogdan smiled. "It's always the same with Amphara's forgotten children: they engender more love than they can themselves create. I don't doubt that you would move mountains for her, should the need arise. But it is your mistress that I worry about, more than your own intentions."

"If you can cure her," Roland said, "we will leave this place, and never return."

"Perhaps." Bogdan replied, stepping towards the parapet. His thin back straightened as he looked out over the encroaching fog bank. "But we must leave the future for tomorrow. Tonight, you fight with us." A church bell began to ring. There was a loud, audible sigh, as if a hundred voices or more exhaled at once. Roland turned to look at the Inner Cloister, but could only see the height of the stone walls, looming over them. Beyond the gateway, there was the sound of many footsteps. "It seems that prayer has ended for the faithful; Almyra will be along swiftly to tend to your poor, Demonic friend. You'd best hurry, to ensure things go smoothly."

Roland took the hint, moving with a warrior's swiftness to take his post at Kelsea's side. As he stepped across the wood paneling the Volkhv turned and called to him. "Wait, Roland." The mercenary pivoted to face him. "Your Succubus... how long has she been with you?"

Roland's lips were a flat line. "Three months." Bogdan's head tilted.

"Perplexing." He said. "By now you should be showing symptoms. It appears she's endeavored a modicum of restraint with you." Roland turned and stepped down the stairwell. "I cannot tell if that is her mercy, or the darkest cruelty." The red-maned man didn't answer, moving still faster to escape the Volkhv's prying words.

As Roland moved between the buildings, he saw in the distance the great gate of the Inner Cloister open, and a multitude of thin and plodding peasants file out from the toothy maw of the portcullis. Bogdan had not lied: there were many people in the crowd, but few men, fewer still of fighting age. It seemed the impromptu siege had taken its toll upon the isolated community. All of them, including the children were wearing robes of varying shades of white or grey. As Roland worked his way towards the hovel in which Kelsea hid, he began to pass shoulder to shoulder with individuals and families headed towards their respective homes. They cast him sideways glances, the sound of low muttering following him wherever he went. Roland placed a surreptitious palm atop his sword. He hurried to reach his destination before they said anything.

The muttering intensified. No one seemed to recognize him or know why he was there. Roland quickened his steps, marching forth with a swiftness born of insecurity. He weaved his way through the streets with ever growing anxiety, all but sprinting as he rounded the last bend of the buildings to reach-

"Lalegh Sakat!" Bellowed a voice that wasn't human. Roland turned, his face going pale as something truly unexpected charged into his field of view.

A Minotaur, a seven foot monstrosity of packed muscle leapt forward with its head pointed down, the long curve of its horns aiming like spear points towards his gut. Roland had just enough time to leap upwards, avoiding being gored. The blow still struck hard in his legs. He was knocked end over end to the ground, flipping in the air over the Minotaur and collapsing in a heap. He scrambled to his feet, dazed by the attack. The bull skidded to a halt and swerved in a circle, its cow face a raging explosion of savagery.

The thing was huge, thicker than Roland to the point that he dwarfed him in totality. His cloven hooves brushed hard upon the ground, his rear-facing ligament bending in bovine fashion as it pawed the frosty earth. The beast's greying fur was splashed with shades of white, and upon the end of his chin was a billy goat's tuft of beard. His black pupils narrowed upon the man in front of him, his orange robes fluttering in the wind. There was a momentary pause; snowfall obscured the two opponents and draped them in fluffy whiteness. In the far distance, a keening call of a bird could be heard.

Roland drew his sword at the same moment that it charged at him again. The creature was deceptively fast, leaping forward and wrapping him in a bear hug before he could fully clear the blade from its sheath. He felt the wind knock from him as the sheer force of the Minotaur's assault led them both crashing to the ground, wrestling in the dirt as Roland used his slighter form to gain leverage over the less dexterous bullman. The creature punched at his face, but Roland managed to duck his head out of the way, throwing his own fist up to connect squarely with the beast's jaw. It didn't so much as flinch. It pinned his right arm, moving to sit atop Roland's chest. They tussled on the ground as both tried to gain supremacy over the other. The beast let loose a throaty roar, and Roland replied with his own, sonorous bellow.

Realizing the mortal danger he was in, Roland used his free hand to reach desperately for his rondel. He fumbled a bit for a moment as the long blade caught in its sheath, but then it was out, naked in the air. He'd have plunged it deep into the creature's side, had not a flash of light and a booming voice cut through the tumult.

"Enough!" Someone yelled, and there was a shaft of billowing flame. The Minotaur let out a startled snort and leapt free from Roland's person, dancing back on its hooves as Roland stumbled to a stand. With the certitude of a death struggle, the dazed mercenary moved to draw his sword again. There was a second flash of fire, brighter than the first. "Calm yourself, outsider!" Said the woman's voice, halting Roland's movements, though he kept his hand upon his hilt. "This is just an honest misunderstanding."

"Ha-lehara!" Snarled the Minotaur, glaring at Roland. The mercenary didn't dare remove his gaze from the big beast. If he came at him again, he'd have to get a handle on his horns, drag him to the ground and open his throat with a quick blade thrust. A split second mistake would lead to an actual impalement. He wished he still had his old dagger.

A woman's voice, passionate and patrician in its tenor filtered in from behind him. "Varrn! Restrain yourself! I was told of this man's coming just a moment ago. He is one of the three newcomers; Bogdan himself let them in. They need our help."

At the sounding of Bogdan's name Varrn's expression pulled into an even more inhuman expression. "Nehea!" He spat out, snorting contemptuously.

Roland twitched when he felt the warm grasp of a woman's hand atop his own. With a gentle pull the slender touch of her fingers goaded him to let go of his sword. "Varrn is just mistrustful." She explained, her voice soft but authoritative in his ear. "Please, my son, you can end this impasse. I swear by Gosvin, the God who made us both, that you will not be harmed."

"I've heard that blather before." Roland replied, his body coiled like a viper to strike. He did not dare glance behind him to see the woman who was speaking. "Never heard a' God reaching down to slap a charging Minotaur, yeah?"

"My name is Almyra." She insisted, "I am the Priestess of Gosvin for my people. I swear by the Lord of Fire that you are safe in this place. Let go of your sword."

There was a moment where Roland nearly drew it anyway, when the Minotaur tensed his muscles and took a step towards him. However, there was something about Almyra's words that made him falter. Cursing to himself, he removed his grip, straightening as he lifted his hands to ward off the beast in front of him. "Lehall." The Minotaur said, striding towards Roland. For a moment it seemed like the beast himself was about to ignore Almyra's words. He got within ten feet of Roland before a screech from far above interrupted the proceedings.

As if delivered from the sky itself, the Harpy swept down from the fog and landed in front of Roland, her back and tail facing him. Without so much as a warble of greeting, the bird woman frilled her feathers, spreading her cerulean wings wide so that Roland and the Minotaur were separated by her wingspan. She shrieked an angry warning, lifting her clawed leg and extending her talons towards the Minotaur. She pawed the air, hopping back just slightly to more fully cover Roland with her larger form. The bull man stopped, a dumbfounded expression building on his cowlike face.

"Laal... Laal Haapi?" He said, his muscled arms lowering as a wondrous tone passed his thick lips. The old bull almost seemed to smile. The Harpy remained in her position, chittering an angry riposte towards the hulking brute in front of her.

"By Gosvin's glory." Almyra whispered from behind Roland.

The mercenary stepped forward, putting a hand to the Harpy's shoulder. The bird turned her head back in a sharp, avian movement to glance back at him, her head tilting in confusion as her yellow eyes met his own. She chirped a greeting before swiveling back to glare at the Minotaur. "Raaawk!" She said.

"This Harpy knows you?" Almyra said. "...Who are you people?"

"Name's Roland." He replied. "She's a friend of mine."

"Rrrahland!" The bird agreed. Roland took the Harpy by both shoulders and pulled her back against him so that she lowered her wings. She glanced back again, a concerned look on her face.

"She's a part of our group, we saved her from the Hautviech. She actually helped us find you lot, when we were freezing in the forest." Roland pulled her still further back, and the large woman lowered her leg, cooing at him as he rubbed her with soothing strokes. "Shh." He said, not really knowing how to respond to her. The Harpy seemed to appreciate it, drooping her tail feathers against his waist. "It's all right, I'm fine."

"Bogdan claimed you killed the creature." Almyra said. "Until I saw her fall from the sky, I didn't really believe you." Roland at last felt safe enough to glance behind him to put a face to the voice.

Almyra was young, much like Kelsea in age but more refined, dignified of nature. Upon her high brow was a wisdom borne of piety, and in her amber eyes there dwelled both compassion and solemnity in equal measure. Almyra stood, resplendent in a long, flowing priest's robe. It was fiery red, a multicolored riot of oranges and simmering crimson fluttering across her clothing like licking tongues of fire. About her narrow neck was set a small gem, forged in the image of a roaring flame. Her jet black hair was done up in a modest braid, wrapped around like a crown atop her head, the rear of which was collected into a webbed hairnet. She was stately, full chested and full lipped. Almyra smiled at Roland, and immediately the mercenary understood why so many would listen to her lectures, besides the very strength of her voice.

She used that strength to speak to him now. "I am sorry for the quarrel, Roland. Shaman Varrn did not know you were here. You can... understand, why our people might be wary of newcomers in such dire times as this."

"My friend, Kelsea." Roland said, "She needs your help, Priestess."

"So I've been told." She said, stepping forward and extending her hand. "Shall we calm our friends first, that I might have the chance to help?"

"I... don't speak her tongue." Roland said, holding the Harpy still by the shoulders. The bird chirped, and - to the great surprise of the red-maned man - the Minotaur chirped back. He began a rough correspondence as the bull tried to replicate the patterns of the Hapry's tones. The bird tilted her head, her eyes widening as he communicated something to her. As if a floodgate being let loose, she let out a hooting call and began to titter loudly, jabbering like a magpie to the Minotaur's face. The bull grinned, showing his large, flat teeth.

"I don't think you need to." Almyra said, laughing. "He is a Child of Excellia, after all. Just like her, they speak the beastly tongue. You won't find a soul south of the Border Forts that knows the language of the Harpies half as well as Varrn.

"A shame he don't speak human." Roland replied, letting go of the Harpy as she hopped forward towards the Minotaur. They seemed to be already deep in conversation. The smaller creature stood, like a young daughter in the presence of her proud father as the Minotaur began to regale her. Roland brushed himself off, droplets of snow spilling to the ground from the bunches that had collected on his person in the melee. "I"d have preferred a conversation to a concussion."

"Varrn is a good man." Almyra said, stepping towards him. She floated across the earth in her sweeping gown. "He's just a very- ah... 'spirited' believer in his Goddess. Excellia was never one for subtlety. Often Beastfolk act on instinct more than rationality, but a truer friend you'll never find."

"So I gathered." Roland grumbled, "At least the bird likes me, well enough."

"She does." Almyra said. Her easy smile made Roland uncomfortable. "Shall we attend to your fallen comrade?"

"Aye." Roland said, the two setting forth towards the hovel.

"What are her symptoms?" Almyra said, "Is it an injury, or an illness?" As they strode to the door Roland felt a fearful jolt in his spine.

"Neither, apparently." Roland replied, "Bogdan seems to think it's a Hex of some sort. She's been having convulsions, seizures and the like. Mood swings, too. She..." He stopped. He'd almost been about so say 'she changes skin color too.'

A hand touched his shoulder. "I understand, Roland." Almyra said, misinterpreting his hesitation. "Let us see what grace Gosvin has to give to his afflicted child."

Roland knocked upon the door, calling out in a heavy voice. "Kelsea? Are you awake?"

There was silence, then a murmur. "Of... of course I am."

"The Priestess is here. Are you... decent?" There was a muffled grunt.

"J-just a minute! Let me dress."

Almyra gave a concerned glance towards Roland, "She doesn't need to-"

"She's shy." He said, hoping that the excuse was good enough. "She doesn't feel comfortable being unclothed around strangers."

Almyra looked with purpose into Roland's own. "You understand that if the sickness is deep enough, we may need to have her remove them, regardless."

Roland's brow tightened as he stared ahead at the blank wood door. "One task at a time, Priestess."

There was the sound of some commotion, then a pained gasp; a fluttering of fabric, followed by a pained moan. "Come... come in." Kelsea said, sounding much weaker this time. Roland pushed the flimsy door aside, stepping back into the Succubus' sick room. She looked like her human self again, her face pallid and her eyes lidded low as she huddled beneath the blanket, only her face was revealed beneath. She seemed for all the world to be a simple, stricken girl. Sweat beaded upon her brow, and her breath came in short, pained bursts. "Roland." She said, her eyes fluttering. "You're back." He did not know how much of her ailment was an act.

"Did it flare up again?" Roland took his place next to her, standing, looking down. The two matched eyes, and he could see the pain written across Kelsea's expression. She nodded at him. It was clear that Kelsea wasn't faking it.

"Gods be merciful." The Priestess said. Almyra hurried through the door gap, the picture of benign concern written across her distinguished face. The Fire Priestess did not hesitate to kneel at Kelsea's side, her gown varnishing itself with dirt as her hands reached out. "My child," She said, a mixture of concern and tenderness. "My name is Almyra. I am a Priestess of Gosvin. Can you... can you see me, right now?"

Kelsea tore her gaze away from Roland, squinting through the fog to view the woman before her. "Yes." She said, sounding tired. The level of concentration she needed to keep her appearance had to be agonizing, in concurrence with the disruption caused by the hex. Kelsea's chest rose and fell beneath the covers in shallow spurts. "I can... I can see you."