Disclaimer: I don't own anything you've seen in the movies.

Chapter 9

The Purifier hurried along the corridor anxious to escape Dame Zhylaw's scrutinizing gaze. Most of the Necromongers, Zhylaw included, believed the Lady to be a woman of great beauty but little intelligence.

Enan was not so easily fooled by appearances.

Selene saw more than most of the ladies of the court, with the exception of Captain Vakko's wife, perhaps. She was up to something. Enan could only imagine what the woman thought of the attack on her husband. The Purifier was certain the Lady was curious about the prisoner the Lord Marshal had taken. If he were in her place, he would be curious, too.

When the Purifier reached the conversion rooms he decided to check up on Dame Zhylaw's whereabouts for the past few hours. He watched as the view screen displayed her location for the past 8 hours at 5 minute intervals. She had passed her morning with the chatty wives of the council members gathering information. She also passed by the conversion rooms and the prison ward before he met her in the halls.

Enan thought she was fishing with her questions about his health.

The Purifier gave Zerdor orders for the next shift and made his way to the dressing rooms. He collected a variety of garments that would suit her, placed the clothing in a bag along with some other necessities and headed back to the Lord Marshal's rooms.

When Enan entered the sitting room it was already cleaned. The automatic sanitizers had erased every trace of blood from the walls, floor and upholstery. The woman was just as Enan had left her, sleeping on the couch. He could tell even from across the room that her back was almost completely healed. The skin was still slightly pink where the open gashes had been, but otherwise, she looked as good as new.

Enan programmed the nanos to heal her injuries completely. Many of the Necromonger warriors chose to retain the scars they received in battle. They were evidence of the warriors' fierceness. The same could not be said for the Ladies of the court. If they received so much as scratch they were at the conversion rooms in minutes screaming for one of the purifiers to heal them. None of them would suffer marred flesh; their vanity would not allow it.

This woman did not seem the type to care about her looks over her health. Lord Zhylaw told Enan to heal her; it was the Purifier's decision that her skin remained flawless. The woman began to stir, her eyes opening. He gave her a small smile that she did not quite return.

Anya rolled onto her side, her back to the wall and pushed herself up with her right arm, her left holding the remnants of her blouse against her body. The man, Enan, was standing above her. She could not remember falling asleep but her back no longer screamed in pain so she must have been out for some time. The man stood quietly, watching her, it was making Anya uncomfortable.

She looked up at him, "How long was I asleep?" she asked quietly. Her throat felt better, too. Anya guessed the injection that healed her back must have healed her throat as well.

"About two hours." Enan took a step towards her, slowly, so as not to startle her. He bent down and picked up the glass of water. "I'll get you a fresh glass." He left the room and hurriedly refilled the glass. Returning to the woman's side he handed it to her.

"Thank you," she said with the slightest of nods. She took a few sips and handed the glass back to Enan.

"I've brought you a bag of clothing and other items."

Anya looked down at the blood splattered rags she now wore. She needed a bath.

Enan placed her glass down on the corner table and walked back to the couch. He watched her examine her tattered and bloody clothes. "There is a sonic shower in the bedroom. You can bathe there."

Anya nodded and attempted to stand. She rocked unsteadily and Enan grabbed her by her arm before she could collapse.

"Careful." Enan caught her and braced her with his left arm as she regained her balance. He could feel her body tense at his closeness; she held her breath. "I'll help you."

The two began their slow walk to the Lord Marshal's bedchamber. Anya looked around at the dining table and large sitting room where her nightmare began the night before. The room was just as it had been except the dishes had been cleared away. The man was leading her toward the one room she had not yet entered. She did not want to be in his bedchamber but at the moment she needed a restroom and a shower. She had no choice. They reached the entryway and the doors slid open. Anya was shocked at the size and opulence of this room. She had not really looked at it the night before. She didn't like the thought of being in this room and was thankful when they passed into the room's grand bath.

Enan walked her in and sat her on an elaborate stone bench. He turned to her and saw the discomfort in her face. "I'll go retrieve your clothing while you use the facilities," Enan paused, "Can you manage yourself?" Enan felt as uncomfortable as the young woman looked. He saw the woman nod and left the room, closing the door behind him. He retrieved the clothing he collected for her and waited outside the door. He heard the refresher cycling and knocked on the door. "I have your clothing." Unsure, he added, "May I come in?"

"Yes." Her soft voice was barely audible through the closed door. She was sitting once again on the stone bench holding her shirt around her. She looked incredibly vulnerable to Enan and, although she tried to hide it, frightened. How could he reassure her? He put the bag down beside her and motioned for her to examine its contents. Well, they needed to get this over with. "Do you think you can stand in the shower or do you need assistance?"

Anya looked up at the man's question. She did not think she could stand long enough to complete a shower cycle. She could not conceal the panic in her eyes. The man looked at her with understanding. "You can keep your clothing on. The sonic shower can clean through anything." Anya's heart slowed slightly. The man, Enan, held out his hand for her. She took it tentatively and he pulled her once again to her feet.

Enan wrapped his left arm around her back and walked her to the shower stall. He paused suddenly and looked down at the woman on his arm. Anya was startled by the sudden change in the man's demeanor. She met his eyes; he was smiling down at her.

"I still haven't asked your name." He laughed lightly. The sound made Anya smile instinctively.

She answered him without hesitation, "Anya, it's Anya."

Enan repeated her name aloud. It was a beautiful name. It suited her. Enan helped her towards the shower stall. It was more than big enough for both of them to stand comfortably. "Hold onto the wall grips while I set the program." Anya did as Enan asked. Enan moved to the control program and programmed the shower. He returned to her side just as the program began running. It felt strange standing in the shower in his robes but he had told her the truth. There was no reason to remove one's clothes if the shower was set properly; Enan supposed he did so out of habit. He held Anya's waist to steady her, she kept both hands on the wall grips. He watched as the shower dissolved away the blood from her back leaving her skin clean and smooth. It took Enan every ounce of control not to touch her. He was growing impatient for the cycle to end.

"Who are you, Enan?" The Purifier was startled out of reverie by Anya's quiet question. He knew this would come sooner or later. He would have preferred later but at least her question distracted him from her fair skin.

"I am the Purifier, the High Purifier, actually," he said simply. "I guess you could say I am the voice of the Necromongers and I am in charge of converting the new recruits."

Anya was silent after Enan's brief explanation. The man was an excellent speaker, the best she had ever heard- too bad his words had been hollow. It occurred to Anya that her fate might be that of the mindless drones that destroyed her planet. She would not give in to them.

Enan felt her tense once more. She had not responded to his words. "What is it?" He found himself desperate to ease her tension.

"I will not convert." She spoke with finality.

Enan admired the strength in her voice. When he first saw what Zhylaw had done to her, he was certain her bravery would abandon her. He was relieved that Zhylaw failed to break her will. What did concern Enan was the Lord Marshal's admission; I do not wish her to be purified. I only wish her wounds to be healed. Enan was not sure if he should tell her of the Lord's words. It could wait.

The shower cycle ended and Enan helped Anya out of the shower and back to the bench. He handed her the bag and left her to change. "Call for me when you are ready," He said before closing the door behind him. Anya examined the clothing closely. All of the pieces were black – not a color Anya preferred, but the materials were quite beautiful. She dressed as quickly as she could, leaving the tattered rags on the floor. Anya stood and made her way slowly to the door. It slid open.

Enan stood on the other side of the door waiting for her to call him. He was not completely surprised to see her walking on her own. She did not like showing weakness anymore than Enan or Zhylaw. He could tell she would need him, though, to get her back to the sitting room. He did not wait for her to ask for help. He took her arm again and walked her back to the large sitting room. He could tell she was uncomfortable in Zhylaw's chambers. She relaxed considerably when they reached the main room.

Enan was leading her to the sofa when the main doors opened. The Lord Marshal strode into his chambers and stopped short at the sight of Enan carrying his pet across the room.

"Purifier, I see you've taken care of my little friend." He approached them, smiling brightly. Zhylaw lifted a hand to touch Anya's face. She flinched as his hand met her cheek. "She looks as good as new." Zhylaw scanned the woman from head to toe, taking in the new convert clothes she wore. Her feet were bare; the skirt reached just below her knees. Anya had been covered from head to foot in long sleeves and pants when Zhylaw brought her here; he preferred the softer silks and her exposed skin. "I like your taste in clothing, Purifier. Remind me to have you pick something out for Selene."

Enan could feel Anya's heart rate increase the moment Zhylaw entered the room. Her entire body tensed when he touched her and she trembled slightly. Instinctively, Enan tightened his grip on her arm and his face reverted to a cool mask. When Zhylaw withdrew he helped Anya to the couch. He addressed the Lord Marshal.

"I merely chose from what was available, my Lord." That was a lie. Enan had known exactly what he was looking for when he went to the dressing rooms. Perhaps he should have chosen something else instead.

"Thank you for your assistance, Purifier. You may go." Enan stood rooted to the floor. He did not want to leave her with this man but he had no choice. Enan bowed to the Lord Marshal and walked to the door, exiting quickly. He did not look back at Anya. He didn't want the Lord Marshal to discover that he cared about the girl.

Unfortunately, he was too late.