Friend of the Devil
4. Reunion
Maybe it was foolish to run. Maybe there was nowhere to hide, and they were all to die, clawed to shreds by the unwieldy horde that spilled unwittingly into the valley. It certainly looked that way.
Once, she had known the world to be fickle, unfair. But she had long since come to terms with the darkest days, having found light amidst the broken shards of her life. She would never give in, and never lose hope... never again.
Whatever was to be, she was ready. Even Death would find her an even match.
Skidding to a stop behind her two companions, she used her momentum to spin about and crack the thick of her weapon against the nearest of the lumbering hulks to appear out of the rocks, hungry for blood. The blow sent the zombie's jaw flying; it staggered back, unbalanced yet undeterred. Landing low on her feet, she sprang forward to crush the vile thing's throat between the chains and weight of her flail.
Crouching low as her opponent fell, Daena scowled. Ahead of her, the temple eunuch shielded his priestess from harm as best he could while she made her stand.
"Keep going," she snarled at him; only in afterthought did she realize, neither of them know the way.
The ravenous legion of undead seemed to appear sporadically, as though magically summoned within their holy sanctuary. It was impossible, lest they were betrayed... and an uncouth number did shamble about in tattered temple funeral robes.
Decidedly not seeking to divine the origin too closely, Daena took to cleaning the path. For every one enemy she incapacitated at least one more to replaced it... and even dismembered pieces crawled about with a will of their own.
The first to gain an advantage on her managed to tear one of her weapons away, sending it plummeting down the cliffside. In retaliation, she cracked the skeleton down to three pieces with her remaining flail, before lunging at the nearest rotting lump of flesh. They were on all sides, crushing against one another in an attempt to reach the battle in their midst; it was the most she could do to hold them far enough back to breathe.
A shadow passed overhead, prompting Daena to crouch. Its caster hit the ground behind her with a heavy, sickening crunch. She turned, ready to defend herself; instead, her jaw dropped.
"What did I teach you," Escad growled over his shoulder, not bothering with the honor of facing her outright, "about watching your back?"
Dark energy crackled along the length of the knight's sword. It faded away as, by ones and twos, the undead backed down, watching, gurgling nonsense as they appeared to estimate the situation. In the respite, Daena paused to wipe her eyes free of dust-born tears.
"Where were you headed?" Escad asked, keeping a watchful eye on the shivering monstrosities, each in turn. When she didn't say, he glanced at her, prompting the answer.
"The sealed chamber," Daena replied evenly. Then, all at once, "Everybody else should be down there... everybody who made it that far, anyway."
The girl huddled in the protective embrace of her guardian caught his inert attention, much to Daena's displeasure. The woman's tail whipped once, betraying her tension, but Escad didn't notice.
"Lead the way," was all he said.
Ears flat, Daena guided them up and down through the natural honeycomb of caves. A blessing, the undead gave them a wide berth. Behind her, the priestess and the eunuch followed her footsteps closely, but Escad took his time sauntering after them, keeping up appearances. It was, perhaps, for the better that she had to slow her pace for him – the priestess would have been unable to keep up if she hadn't – but because it was for him, it grated on her already raw nerves.
When they reached the heavy doors of the sanctuary, the nuns-turned-guards ushered them inside. They didn't bother counting heads; they took one look at the priestess and sealed the room behind them. The sealed chamber was made for ceremony, not for refuge, and many bodies of all shapes were pressed together in the half-light. The girl was given more room than everyone, more room than perhaps necessary, along with her escort. Even so, the stench of sweat and the acrid smoke of the torches were thick in the air.
In their space, just beyond the doors, Daena stretched, recovering from the ordeal in her manner. As she did, she took the time to fully appreciate Escad, his condition, and his being here against all odds.
"You're supposed to be dead," she told him. There was an edge to her voice, though she struggled to keep her anger in check; she bother to bring up the fact that she had been the one to bury him. That he was walking around unsettled her greatly, even if, at present, he may as well have been considered the same as all the other corpses.
Her tail lashed when she realized he was not only ignoring her, but was staring at the little girl again.
"Who is she?" He asked softly. If she hadn't known better, Daena would have thought he was afraid to hear the answer. He couldn't not know.
Her decision was long, and longer seeming in the dark.
"The High Priestess."
Daena studied his reaction carefully, and knew – by the subtle clenching of his jaw, the light lift to his head... by whatever interest he might have had locking itself off from the world – that she had pained him. She would have liked to feel some satisfaction in that, but she couldn't.
In this, his pain was her pain.
"What are you doing here, Escad?" Her voice had gone flat. If he noticed, he didn't answer.
Minutes ticked by, or maybe hours. The priestess sat between them, looking sad and alone, while the eunuch tried to comfort her. An older nun was telling some of the younger temple guardians a story, about Life and the Goddess and how hope prevailed – her voice was hushed, but carried through the mostly silent crowd easily. Wisps of other conversations reached them, but it was all simple things – hopes and dreams and fears.
Escad started pacing – it was that or sit down like a normal person.
"How long are you going to wait down here?" he asked at last, after having grown bored of that preoccupation.
Daena's ears were still flat – in the scant light, they appeared to be gone – and her tail was whipping erratically; she didn't like him being here any more than he liked being here. She didn't like being here any more than he did. Resigned to this, she watched him move.
Abruptly, he broke off his pattern and stood before the doors. He pressed one hand flat against the seam, and considered it. He didn't have the strength to open them – she prayed that he didn't. Holy seals sapped one's strength, and she wasn't certain they would be able to restore it if he did. Moreover, she prayed that if he did try, she would have the strength to stop him alone. She narrowed her eyes.
Setting his sword aside, he placed one hand on each door and braced himself. Daena was on her feet in an instant, but before she could act there came a heavy knocking on the doors. Escad jumped back, for which some small part of her felt smug about. Imagining a horde of dead on the other side, she found it difficult to nurture.
The banging continued, erratic at first, then with a pattern that she didn't know. It was muffled by their thickness, but clear enough, until – with a flash of light – the seal broke. Both doors were heaved open, wide enough for an average person to pass, and Sol stumbled in, heaving gasping breaths from the effort.
Daena started to rush forward, but the woman shook her head, teetering from the effort. Holding up a hand for all questions to wait long enough to catch her breath, she leaned forward and placed her other hand on her knee. After combing her hair back with her fingers, she managed to straighten up, and hooked her arms behind her head for easier breathing.
"Selva's gone," she sighed. Fixing her best glare on Escad, she asked, "What aren't you telling me?"
.oOo.
A cursory check found the Temple empty, if in total disarray. The mass of undead had vanished, but their passage had left noticeable tracks among the dirt and sands. The priestess was sealed within the chamber, with much forethought to supplies and a handful of dedicated guardians. The rest of the nuns and Temple Guardians set about to setting right what they could as quickly as possible.
Those missing from the ranks were simply gone, like the dead. Every so often, there were signs of what could have been a struggle, but it was guesswork at best.
Escad followed the entourage up the cliff, half out of a lingering sense of duty. The group dispersed to its individual tasks, and he made his way to the Meditation Chamber. None of the others preceded or followed him; he expected to find it empty.
He pulled the doors open and stopped cold.
Sitting on the dias, clicking her dangling heels together, and beaming away at nothing in particular, was the Shadole he thought he'd left behind on Luon Highway.
"Wha'cha lookin' for?" it asked, never losing its grin.
Escad turned back down the path in disgust.
Neither Daena nor Sol had joined the group working the restorations; nor were they guarding the priestess. The sun was setting behind the height of the mountain by the time he found any sign them, after some dedicated searching, along the brook below the waterfall.
The first was the teal-blue scrap of cloth, which the knight picked up and dutifully puzzled over. The next was a clog – one of Daena's, he knew by recognition – followed by a different shoe – one of Sol's – and finally its mate. Daena's gloves were a short distance away, her flail tucked between them.
The curious thing was that he could hear them; the deep thrum of Daena's voice ever so often interrupted by a lilting reply from Sol. He turned, finding the niche between two boulders, and immediately regretted it.
Wriggling far too much, and often splashing the water with her bare feet, Sol lounged on a sun-warmed rock, resting her chin on her crossed arms. Her skirts and jewelry were off to one side, with her damp hair spread over her shoulders to dry. Daena was kneading her shoulders, and barely spared him a glance.
Escad would have liked to make a daring escape, but he was too busy choking on air. Opening half an eye, Sol regarded him critically. "How do you relax after a fight?"
Not bothering to look up from her work, Daena replied for him, "He doesn't. That's the problem."
"Should you not be...?" Escad's voiced failed him, so he chose not to complete that sentence. Sol rolled her eyes.
"Yeah, yeah, fine... So," she counted off on her fingers, launching back into the topic with ease, "Gaeus, Selva, and Olbohn. That's three of seven."
"Six," Daena corrected automatically.
"Right... six," Sol agreed. She poked her tongue out in thought, rubbing her palm absentmindedly. "Which leaves Pokhiel... good luck finding him, Tote and Rosiotti."
"Rosiotti lives in the Mindas Jungle," Escad said. He only realized it was unnecessary when Sol grinned lopsided at him.
"No kidding," she slid out from under Daena's hands, prompting Escad to turn away sharply. "Tote usually hangs out at Lake Kilma." He felt a tug on the cloth bunched up in his hand, and gratefully let it slip through his fingers, "Mine, thanks."
She was tying the makeshift top behind her neck as she sauntered past, and he fixed his gaze on the creeping vine making its way down the nearest boulder. It was difficult to be polite with someone who didn't appear to understand etiquette in the least.
"I guess I'd check one, then the other, unless I had a helping hand," a beat, followed by, "Which reminds me; does this mean we're working together yet?"
"You and I aren't through," he snapped, jerking his gaze back to her. Fortunately for his pride, she was mostly dressed, and in the final stages of doing up her hair.
"Good," Sol purred. "You take Mindas," she told him, with an emphatic poke to the chest with a hairstick. "That jungle makes mazes out of my brain."
"Fine." Escad replied. Finding his opportune exit, he left without another word.
After he had gone, Sol dropped the act and sighed deeply. Feeling Daena's hand on her shoulder, she blindly grabbed for it, taking all the comfort she could get.
"You gonna be okay?" the temple guardian asked.
"Yeah. No." Sol nodded, then shook her head. "I don't know yet, but I gotta get rolling."
A/N: ... (i'm worried that if i say anything, i might get pounced on, oh no!)