The Song of Roland Ch. 22

"-Yet another sentence I never expected to emerge from the mouth of one of Huzra's children." Her smile was radiant and glowing. "But I will endeavor to at least try to, once my work is finished. The day may come soon that I can at last get a full night's sleep."

"May it be sooner, rather than later." Kelsea intoned. "May the spirit that forged us all lead you back unto his warmth."

Almyra looked up at the Succubus. Her lips tugged to the corners of her cheeks. "You've been studying mantras."

Kelsea's face filled with a modest blush. "I-I've had some time to read at night."

"You've a good voice for it. Perhaps the next time I hold regular services, you'll join us in prayer?"

Kelsea's face lit up. "I'd like that."

Almyra nodded, turning back to examine Carl more closely again. "We are in a curious position now, the three of us. We would do well to tread carefully."

"Aye, keep Carl safe, Priestess." Roland said, jabbing his thumb in Kelsea's direction. "I'll worry about her."

They left the Priestess with her ward, walking free into the open air of the Inner Cloister. Together, Roland and Kelsea began to trudge the line of churches leading from the converted hospice to the front gate. As they walked, Roland noticed that the hustle of life in the town had increased. Groups of congregants huddled together, moving this way and that in groups as the news was relayed from family to family: salvation had arrived. The Hellstriders had done more for their morale by simply showing up than all the impassioned speeches by their beloved priests had.

Roland only recognized the storm that was brewing next to him when he glanced over and saw Kelsea staring down at the ground. Her robes fluttered about her as she walked, giving her an apparition like appearance. Kelsea said nothing for a long moment, but Roland could see the question barrelling towards him nonetheless.

Kelsea bit her lip, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. She couldn't seem to look straight at him. "...Who is Triss, Roland? What does she mean to you?" She said at last.

It was a loaded question. Roland could hear the weight of the words as she said them. He decided that honesty was the swiftest opiate. "It's as I said before: she's an old friend." Kelsea's sharp gaze caused him to trip over his next words. "S-she was the first person I came into contact with when I left the guard, more'n a decade ago, now. She helped me out... back when that was a difficult thing to do."

"She's more than that to you." Kelsea said. "I'm not blind, Roland."

The big man stopped walking, turning about to face her. Heedless of who might be watching, he set his large hands upon Kelsea's slender shoulders, pulling her to look at him face to face. "I didn't think ya were, and I'm not trying to dodge the question. " He could see the look in her eyes: the concern, the fear, the rising jealousy. "-Will you listen? I'll tell you everything."

Kelsea nodded, her hands slipping about his waist as if it were an afterthought.

He collected himself. "After I left the Guard in Loherhof, I wandered fer a year or so. Drinking, gambling, whoring and the like. I was... I was in a bad way, yeah?" Roland shook his head. "I lost track of time... and you can imagine how quick I lost track of my coin, too. I slept in gutters, drank in 'em too, when the days got rough enough."

"I found myself wanderin' from town to town. Begging between bouts o' drinking, the usual life of a besotted lout." Her eyes were uncomfortable to look at as they held fast to him. "I'm a mean drunk: Triss nicked me in a pub brawl, and we got to fightin'. The burly wench hits harder than most men!" He chuckled to himself, his hand reaching up to brush across the smooth uniformity of skin on his cheek. "She came at me with a shard of glass when things got really serious."

"We both got tossed into prison, pretty much the same deal as it was with us and the Briar Dogs, in Dornich. Only there was no magical cunt to save us there." Kelsea's gave a look that alternated between scandalized and amused. He pushed onwards with the story. "Triss and I ended up in opposite cells. She got to talking, and I got to sobering. By the time she'd finished talking and I could finally stagger in a straight line, I'd signed up for her mercenary company."

"...Have you slept with her?" Kelsea asked.

"Aye, I have." Roland said, without hesitation. "I thought I was in love with her, once." He winced at the immediate scowl this drew upon her face. "Kelsea: I fought with her fer years. She and I survived things that by rights should have ground us both into mush. She was my closest companion... as you are, now."

"S-so I'm your alternative?" Kelsea said, her faltering laugh concealing the lack of actual humor behind the question.

Roland shook his head. "No. She's saved my life a dozen times, and most of 'em weren't in battle. I owe that woman more than I can put into words." He felt a tremor run down his spine. Why was he so frightened of admitting it? "But she's not-" His hand went to her cheek. "You."

He stroked her face, mesmerized at the infernal heat that eternally wafted off of Kelsea's skin. "We need to trust each other here, if we're going to make it through this." He kissed her on the lips, mussing his red scruff into her smooth skin. Kelsea responded by leaning against him. "Triss is a good friend, but she's not like that to me anymore, yeah?"

"I suppose it wouldn't matter much even if she was, huh?" Kelsea said, pulling back from him. "With the way I am, it's not like you can just up and-"

"Hey." Roland said, shushing her. "I'm here because I want to be. Yer little whorish aura aint what's got me glued to yer gums half the night, yeah?" He kissed her again, long and deep. Her eyes were fluttering when he pulled away. "As it turns out, you're not half-bad company to be around."

Kelsea didn't respond. She took in a deep breath and held against Roland's form for another long moment. "I trust you." She mumbled, glancing down at her feet like a bashful peasant girl.

Roland tilted her chin to look at him. "-And all it took was a Hautviech puncturing my lungs, a war with the Briar Dogs, a curse, and a Demon invasion to make it happen." He grinned. "Yer a hard woman to please, lass."

Kelsea giggled. "I do take after you, Father."

Roland let out a groan, "Gods, I'm a fool. Triss saw through that mess in seconds."

"Must have been the eyes you were giving me." Kelsea said with sultry allure, her fingers slipping beneath the seam of his trousers. "They had a carnal look to them."

"Like yours didn't," Roland responded, playfully groping her rear through her robe before drawing back. "...We won't be able to do this, once the Hellstriders have settled in."

"I'll just have to take it while I can then," Kelsea's fingers grasped him, skin to skin upon his hardening erection. "Won't I?" She breathed.

A ripple traveled across her face. Kelsea blinked, her eyes scrunching in place as her brow pulled down. The gilded smile slid from her face. "I'm..." She said, but another, stronger ripple rolled from her cheek to her nostril. Roland bent down just as Kelsea's knees gave out, his arms reaching down to hold fast to her. She let out a pained gasp.

"Kelsea!" He saw flashes of purple skin beneath her human facade.

"It's..." She shook her head back and forth, her breath coming in short bursts. "I j-just felt it grow inside me."

"Gods, not this too." He said. When he put his hand upon her face she placed hers onto his."Of all fuckin' times."

"I'm a living charm for bad luck." Kelsea said, attempting to smile through her pained grimace. "D-did you expect any... any less of me?"

"Pipe down," He said, gently lifting her to her feet. "You'll need to see Almyra."

As Kelsea started to regain her balance, a horn blared in the distance. A sudden, great cheer arose from the battlements as the militiamen manning the walls hailed the appearance of yet another newcomer to the charred town. Unlike the Hellstrider's delayed arrival however, the lone horseman came within seconds of the horn's introduction.

Riding like a gale through the still-lifted portcullis of the inner gate, a figure atop a strange steed appeared in the Inner Cloister. The beast the rider rode was a horse, yet... not a horse. It was cloven-hoofed and covered in fur, white as the virgin snow. Its eyes were slitted and its ears were overlong, its spine bending this way and that in a distinctly un-equine fashion. Roland had never seen such a beast before.

The figure itself was as enigmatic in appearance as it's steed: clad in mismatched hides of fur covered by a tall hood, the slim figure seemed almost too small for its own outsized presence. Together, horse and rider made straight for the central bonfire at full gallop. Almost as quick as this white shadow had appeared, it rolled to a halt, clomping its hooves and snorting from its nose as its owner slid off the thing's saddleless back. Kelsea went stiff in his arms.

The parishioners clustered about the figure immediately, loud cheers and singing praises arising from their lips as they mobbed it.

"Loriel!" They kept chanting. "Loriel! Loriel!"

"I-It's him!" Kelsea gasped, suddenly empty of breath.

"Who?" Roland asked, not grasping her sudden terror.

"The rider!" She said. "The one who gave me the hex! The rider on the white horse!"