Shadows from the Fire
Part 4
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A/N: The end of this chapter might seem a little 'hot' so I've enclosed the offending section with a page break: 8-8-8
Skip over it if you feel uncomfortable.
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Mercutia flipped through the large tome in front of her, scanning the pages with a hasty eye. The Sensei was due to return at any moment and no doubt would not appreciate the paladin reading the secret records in her dream book. She might get thrown out of the temple…or worse. These Gith were an odd bunch and being from Limbo, she sensed that they could be as chaotic and violent as their home plane. Since Halaster, Mercutia knew that trusting someone who was slightly out of their mind was not a good idea and the Sensei seemed to fit the bill perfectly. Though she did appear to be a nice sort, she wasn't particularly normal. Anyone that content was hiding something and it put Mercutia on a particularly fine edge.
Touching his mind is like walking on eggshells…
Flip.
The Sleeping Man dreams...
Rustle.
I am close to accessing his thoughts...
Flip.
He is confused, my poor Sleeping Man…
Flip.
He is calm, at last….
Rip.
The paladin gritted her teeth. "Haneli's bitch!"
"BOSS!" Deekin hissed. "What Deekin say about taking gods' names in vain?"
"Not now, Deekin!" Mercutia whispered, trying to fix the page that she had split down the middle. Her hands had been less than careful with the delicate, aged book in her haste and she had paid the price. It was surely a sign from the gods: paladins were not meant to be thieves.
The half-elf hadn't done such espionage in years, renouncing all her roguish skills when she turned to the life of a paladin. The dictates of honor and duty forbid robbery and backhanded tactics, therefore Mercutia had lost her touch with locks and traps. Just reading from this restricted book made her feel uneasy, like Torm was standing behind her and breathing down her neck. If only Deekin had been tall enough to reach the lectern, Mercutia would have gladly ceded that responsibility to him.
As it was, she was very tempted to throw the book at the Sensei and her Sleeping Man too. Stupid, stupid, stupid, bloody, cursed, vile, EVIL piece of filthy drivel! A blind priest of Cyric could write something more coherent and more interesting than this. She pursed her lips in agitation. Stupid Sensei, Stupid Sleeping Man, stupid Mephistopheles, stupid Cania, stupid backstabbing bastard of a tiefling…
"Uh…Boss?" asked Deekin.
"Yes?" Mercutia skipped ahead two pages.
"Didn't you sends Valen to gets sneaky elven lady?" the kobold twittered nervously by his position behind a bookcase. His scales were chapped.
"I did, why?" Mercutia muttered, too preoccupied with the tome to care. One page more, two pages more, three pages more, four pages more…five-little-six-little-seven-little-pages…does this Sensei write of nothing else but the Sleeping Man? I swear by Torm's hairy -
"Boss! Yous be doing it again!"
The paladin opened her mouth to give a sharp remark but was cut short by the disturbance at the Temple's entrance.
The door clattered open and the icy air of Cania swirled inside the relatively warm Temple in all its morale sucking glory. Wherever it touched, streaks of snow and frost were left behind; it spread like a ghostly cloud of death across the floor towards the elf and the kobold. Right behind this icy mist, illuminated in the pale blue light of the outside, was Valen. He alone seemed unaffected by the elements and even less unruffled about disobeying his direct order.
Mercutia's breath caught in her throat, all the resolve sapping from her body by the combined presences. Snowflakes were piling in front of the door and the mist embraced her already stiff fingers. She faltered in her page flipping and knew that it was time to shut the book, as Valen's appearance would inspire the Sensei to return and spout more nonsense. She did so, leaving it as she found it.
Hearing the shuffling footsteps of the Gith, she absorbed herself in a dull mural on the far wall. She squinted and squeezed her eyes as if examining it in detail when in reality she was trying to buy herself time. Her lips, however, were still in their tight-lipped frown. Don't look at him, just look at the painting.
The Sensei's footsteps drew nearer.
Maybe if I ignore him, he'll go away. The harder she squinted, the more the pain in the base of her skull grew; the migraine of every would-be hero born of impossible stress and odds. Pain, black, beautiful oblivion…oblivion's pain. It spread down along her spine and to the tips of her fingers; white, searing pinpricks that brought life back to numbed limbs. I am tired and I want to go home…
Deekin's claws tapped the stone floor in a light rhythm as he danced to keep warm and all the white Valen stood perfectly still and quiet.
Mercutia growled softly as the pain retracted back to her head, her secret source of fuel. "A dear friend indeed," she whispered harshly. There were going to be no apologies or agreements that day. Ever. And it was adolescent, the paladin knew this, and yet how could Valen let her down like that? He talked about earning trust and Mercutia giving her heart away was the biggest leap of faith she'd ever done…but he'd cut her deeply and crushed her heart with his flail. She was raging a war inside, one side wanting to avenge her injustice and the other seeking to take a more tempered road. Avarice and Virtue, my only counselors.
The cool, icy touch that stroked the back of her mind begged to differ. It felt like a mother's tender, loving caress. It promised reassurance and an ever warm, ever safe bosom to rest her head against and sleep. A siren song, a lullaby and a tempting offer…but not something that could break one's resolve at such short notice. Avarice and Virtue were doing well on their own.
Mercutia glowered. I don't need your help, sword.
Frostblade didn't believe her, but respected her mistress's wishes. I shall wait.
The paladin started in surprise. Frostblade talking was new…but then again chances were that she was imagining it. The pain in her head was enough to make her imagine the strangest things so she didn't give it more than a pressing thought. Still, Mercutia shivered inside her armor.
With small steps and an enigmatic smile at the half-elf, a fact that Valen's keen gaze did not miss, the Sensei glided her way back to the lectern. She raised a finger to the door, acknowledging the ice and swirling wind, and turned her Cheshire grin on the wary tiefling. It was her natural, impulsive smile, brought on by the knowledge that she was the keeper of all secrets and answers. Unhinged, some what way, but that was not the total sum of her parts as she was also queer, peculiar, fey, chaotic, childish, kind, ruthless, indifferent, savage and honest. A being of golden yellow eyes and gray, leathery skin, within her breast beat a devoted yet misguided heart.
Valen opened his mouth to speak but was silenced by the crook of a finger. The Sensei beckoned Valen enter and close the door behind him. "You are welcome here, Tanar'ling." Empathetic, telepathic, her enigma did not merely end with her internal hypocrisy.
She knew of him and his plight. She was the anger, the pain, the indecision, the abuse and the neglect…his soul was laid bare before her and he didn't even know it. The lines of fate weaved about him, two glowing strands piercing his center. A love for two, a love for one…it was going to end in destruction. He was making fatal mistakes and their results were now careening out his control. She was the tears in the cords and knew that his chance to rectify the problems was lost to him.
Just like prophecy, everything depended on a woman…but which one? To read their names aloud would only speak doom upon them…
The tiefling shifted uncomfortably under the Sensei's gaze. "Thank you." His eyes darted about the room and his hand rested within easy reach of his flail. Instinctively, he moved to one of the fiery braziers; the demon blood within him craved the fire and heat in compensation for the naturally icy disposition of the Hell. It was the first sign of true rebellion.
His feet slapped against the ground loudly and he winced as the harsh sound echoed through out the hall. Normally he could have managed a silent gait with ease, but like his blood desiring fire, so too did Cania strip him of well-learned skills. From over the flickering flames he watched Mercutia pace around the anteroom's gallery of art, her feet silent and deliberated as she blew back and forth like air. He waited and he watched, allowing her time to address him. Valen only desired to see her face, to gauge her reaction, but it was obscured from him by the intentional stance she took and Frostblade stared at him like a holy symbol of protection.
There was something off about that sword.
A clear, sharp voice cut the silence and tension of the temple. "Didn't I tell you to send Nathyrra out to me?" the half-elf's tone was chillingly neutral. She continued to pace and examine the mural, her body swaying in the manner of a stalking predator.
Valen steeled himself and the flames in front of him leapt high. "Both she and Aribeth are unable to stand the cold of this place. No doubt their elven blood makes them exceptionally vulnerable to the environment," he explained. "They insisted that I not leave you alone." He paused. "So here I am."
Mercutia stilled, tracing the carvings around one particularly poignant portrait. A winged, green man embraced an obscured woman tightly, tears sliding down his radiant, handsome face. "Touching," she commented, both in reference to the tiefling's presence and that of the painting.
"I am yours to command, my lady," Valen bowed his head tersely, confused at her ire and upset that it was directed at him.
"As if I trust you," came the caustic response. Within the venom was an inflection of deep hurt. "Having you at my back in this place only makes me even more worried that I could fail." Mercutia gave a sniff of indignation, her lips curling into a sneer as she turned to face Valen. "Though maybe you like your women to look like ghosts. I can think of another one when you get tired of Lanari."
Valen narrowed his eyes and scowled, his tail flicking rapidly in mounting agitation and anger. "I assure you, my lady, that my word is my - "
"Save it, fiend," cut Mercutia with acid. "Good men keep their word."
The tiefling took a few steps forward, shaking in rage, his grip tightening on his weapon. He then reigned himself in, turning away abruptly and cast his gaze to the floor. His breath came in short, uneven gasps and beads of perspiration fell to the floor. Valen shut his eyes tight and fought for control.
"You see," whispered Mercutia gently, "even now you would seek to kill me for your own faults. What type of man would do that?" She shook her head in pity.
Valen denied the accusations silently.
Crouched in his assigned space, Deekin could stand the scene no longer. He realized that while his potential readers would be enthralled with the tragic love story, there was only so much of it he could use without making his Boss look bad. He wanted to keep everything consistent with his first book, when the heroic paladin had been bright, polite and cheerful. Now he was working with material that was significantly darker and someone who was less…good. The kobold could have blamed in Valen's presence, but he had seen too much of the world to know that the tiefling wasn't the problem. Darkness came from within.
Mercutia bit her lip and looked at Valen with sympathetic eyes. "I see no man before me…"
Valen recoiled as if struck. "My lady, please!"
"…I see a beast."
The tiefling gave a roar of pain.
The paladin's heart splintered into a thousand tiny pieces, but finally he felt what she felt. Satisfied that she could do no more, she gave a serene smile and a bow of her head to the Sensei who returned both gestures, and headed for the door with a light step.
Valen flung out his hand caught Mercutia's arm in a vice like grip. He looked at her, ash and flame reflecting in his eyes. "I am coming with you." His voice was raw and strained.
Mercutia returned his look of despair with one of her own, shadows and ice swirling about her irises. "Then you are not only a beast but a fool."
"I made an oath and it continues to bind me to you beyond any infernal magics of this place." Valen flicked his gaze beyond her to the door. "If I do not follow, you will die."
The half-elf's face remained stony. "Then I will die with honor." She pulled her arm from his tight grasp and brushed by him, not looking at him again as she strode through the door with confidence. The Ice Queen was returning to her realm once more.
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Mercutia stopped Gru'ul the Quarry Boss with an outstretched finger. Her journal was open upon the palm of her hand and she was quickly scribbling notes within it. "Repeat that last line for me? I didn't quite catch that…" Finally, the last clue!
The devil snarled and slammed his meaty fist on the table. "Farking quasit-lipped angel lovers! 'Sleeping Man this, Sleeping Man that!' You pilgrims are giving me an ulcer! He's a Planetar, all right? An angel in the Hells' own depths... Now get over it!"
The paladin smiled, liking this game. "One more time, good Devil, you speak far too quickly for me to write down what you say…" She awaited the irate response. Valen's grip tensed on his flail and little Deekin stood behind him, spell scroll in hand. The half-elf seemed completely unperturbed by the hell-spawn's malicious attitude.
Gru'ul screamed in frustration. "You addle-coved, ful gannet, pansy poser of a bashin' lathly tinman! Pike off!" He looked as if he were ready to jump over the large counter and smite the paladin with the large, black stick he was holding.
Still, Mercutia would not give up her fun. "Temper, temper, dear Gru'ul. I fixed your grinder and you gave me information. It is a fair trade in all regards and I did most of the work." Now the half-elf was a quick study and had learned quite a cant vocabulary in her time in Cania. The stranded Gith were constantly at each other's throats and the quarry workers were as foul as found in Baator, so it was no surprise that some of it had rubbed off on the do-gooder. But was it prudent to insult the devil in his own language? She motioned for Deekin to make his way to the door as she returned her journal to her pack.
Valen, who was not blind or stupid contrary to Mercutia's current beliefs, saw the kobold's retreat and moved to a position where he could better see the paladin's face. From traveling in her company for some time, the tiefling was very aware of her habits and this particular smirk often meant she was about to try something incredibly foolish and flamboyant. It had appeared several times through out their adventures, from ringing the gong in Drearing's Deep to rushing at the Beholder Hive Mother in her lair, and it was a sign of danger. He was not about to see her roasted over an open spit and he did the best possible thing he could. Probably the only thing the devil would understand.
Mercutia felt the ground slip away from her feet as she was bodily slung over the tiefling's shoulder. "Hey! Put me down!" Her mouth hung open and she was quick to try and wiggle out of Valen's iron grip.
Gru'ul laughed at her complete look of shock. "Now ain't that a top-shelf lark! And I thought you tiefs were nothing but worthless prods!"
Valen chose to ignore the comment, irritating though it was, and continued his pace towards the door at a steady pace. Mercutia's legs flailed in the air and he had a hard time keeping her balanced on his shoulder with her constant protesting and the bulk of their combined armors. He managed to open the door outside, all the while listening to Gru'ul's laughter and the paladin's protests.
"You…you…strange egg!" Mercutia yelled, thumping her fists into the tiefling's back. "Don't thorn me, mister!"
Valen shook his head in disbelief and was unable to smother the laugh at her cant. He slid her gently down onto the snow. "Strange egg? Thorn me?" He threw his head back, his hair whipping in the icy wind. "My lady, try not to embarrass yourself here. What you say in cant makes no sense to the fluent speaker."
Mercutia glowered at him. "It was not aimed at you."
Valen nodded, smiling in memory. "Yes. Then there is no doubt why the Quarry Boss was laughing."
The paladin fixed him an icy stare. "You find this funny?" her tone was quick and tart. "You laugh that I put my life in danger to save billions of people?"
The tiefling frowned, shaking his head. "No, my lady I never - "
"You do," Mercutia nodded her head, hair whipping back and forth in the wind. "You stand behind me and you smirk as I bleed, you cut me with your indifference."
"My lady, what are you saying?" Valen's face twisted in confusion. "On my word as a warrior I never - "
"Your word," the paladin's eyes filled with apathy, "means nothing." Her lips curled into a pained grimace. "You poor, poor beast." She reached out to touch his face.
Valen's head spun in a chaos of thoughts. She thought he was a beast, she was touching him, she hated him, accused him…
"You kill and you main without remorse or regret and you steal love where you can find it…though truly you have no heart and no love." Mercutia looked at him again with pity. She knew she was getting through to him, could see the pain flare in his eyes as he mulled over her words. He tried to look away, but she turned her face back to him. "Go back to the reaper, fiend," she said with an intense gaze, "go back to your Lanari, beast, and see how much she loves your broken and twisted soul."
"You…" Valen struggled for air as he felt the familiar darkness twinge at the back of his consciousness. "You know how to anger me, Mercutia, you know exactly what this place does to me! Why, my lady! Why do you torment me like this?"
Mercutia's low, bitter laugh turned loud and bordered on hysterical. "And do you know what you do to me?" she hissed close to his face. "Do you know the pain you've caused me? Or are you to selfish to see even that?" She pulled back and shoved him away. "Stand clear of me, demon! Your foul taint unnerves me; your very presence is irritating! Go back, beast, go away and never return!"
Valen did not let her go so easily and was quick to grasp her arms again. He twisted her back to face him and held her down before him. The wind swirled about them and the snowflakes began to pile in their hair. "Say that again, my lady! Make me believe what you have said! Make me believe it! MAKE ME!" He shook her roughly, her head jostling back and forth as he yelled the same phrase over and over. "Make me believe it!" Mercutia's head snapped back, her teeth ratting in her head. "Prove it to me!" Her head whipped forward, her eyes rolling about in her skull as the disorientation began.
They stood there, Valen crying out furiously and Mercutia's upper body rolling about in a grotesque manner until some form of clarity pierced through the haze.
Come to me, child, follow my voice.
Mercutia brought up a hand and slapped Valen with all her might, the top of a gauntlet digging into his skin and drawing blood. He stopped momentarily in shock and the paladin seized the moment to wrench herself free from his grip. "You monster!" She whispered. "You dare place your faults on me…never touch me again." Taking a few steps back, Mercutia stumbled along blindly in the snow and finally turned away, the look of disgust, disappointment and horror never leaving her face. She gave one last cry over her shoulder. "You are nothing to me!"
Valen watched in silence as she shuffled through the snow banks, Deekin following close behind her in a stunned trance. His anger had gotten the best of him and he had proven true just what Mercutia had said. He was a beast. He could have easily killed her while in that state…but how quickly it came and went! Especially so when he was by her side. He never wanted to hurt Mercutia and yet he did, he knew she wouldn't act this way unless she had been wronged terribly. She despised him, loathed him and because of what? Because of Lanari? He hung his head and turned away, understanding finally that some things really were not meant to be.
Cania, however, was ever the instigator and could not sit idly by in the face of good entertainment. It could inspire false hope or suck away what little truth that remained…all because it could.
Mercutia trudged forward against the increasing Winde, her visibility dropping to a scant few feet in either direction. Everything was obscured by hazy, white mist being blown about rapidly as Cania's mood changed. She ducked her head and brought her hands up to her face in order to alleviate the windburn. Her footsteps became more rapid as the fear of being trapped in the snowstorm increased. Her pace picked up and she ran blindly through the snow, not caring if Deekin was behind her.
Her foot caught against a jagged black of ice and she lurched forward, face first into the deceivingly soft snow. The white powder hid a solid secret and the paladin's face collided with tightly packed, rough, icy ground. Her eyes crossed and her jaw made an odd popping noise when she closed it. Rivulets of blood dripped from her nose and several raw scrapes stuck out on her cheek. She raised herself a few inches, just managing to push her head over the edge of the snow, but could see nothing through her tangled hair and blurry vision. Around her swirled an ice storm and she dropped her head back down, eyes closing of their own volition.
I would sleep now, if only to end the pain…the obligation, if only to let it go so that I might fly away. To forget…to dream…
The snow continued to fall. It crawled over her body in a fine mist and froze the joints of her armor. To dream and to awaken in a place that is not like this. A dream, my dream, the dream…She would dream of a place shrouded in darkness, where shadows and monsters without forming lumbered across the landscape like lame children: hunting. Yes…they are hunting. Hunting for me! Deep within her sleepy, frozen mind, panic was stirring. To devour…me. It was the realm of the beetle-black feeders of fear and flesh, the place where they took all the bad little boys and girls in the middle of the night. Their wheezing, watery breaths and slack, razor teethed mouths painted the night's canvas with blood. They would take the children and devour them later. Devour them later! Devour me! Devour me!
The paladin convulsed sluggishly in hysteria. She wouldn't go there, not again, not again. The struggled for air but was drowning in the white snow. Soon she would be covered and the blackness would overcome her…and she would be vulnerable. Her mind flitted between splintered, disjointed images of death and gore, the fear rising in her belly and Mercutia began to choke on the bile in her throat. She shook.
Follow my voice, child.
She was five again, huddled in a closet listening to the screams and thrashing happening outside. Something banged against her hiding place and shimmied further into the cabinet to sit with the spiders.
Follow it!
She was lying in bed, the covers pulled to her chin and her eyes were darting back and forth across the barren room. There was something in there with her, but she couldn't see it.
Listen to me, hear my voice. Come.
She was eight, slipping through the shadows of the house for the food denied her earlier on in the day.
Come to me, Mercutia. Come to me.
She felt the cool blade of a knife in her hand and it brought her a sense of peace.
Find me.
She was lifting a heavy blue blade, her hands drenched in sweet blood. She was filled with a blessed calm as the pommel slid under her small hands.
Now…scream.
She raised her head and opened her mouth, letting loose one long, high pitched wail.
- - - - - - -
Deekin, who was not too far behind, heard the cry and immediately turned and began to hop in what was left of his light footprints. He found Valen's easily, the deep imprints not yet covered totally by the falling snow. Upon finding him, the kobold begged, pleaded, whined and even sang for the tiefling, all in a hope to inspire him to help the freezing Mercutia. It was with much panic that he yipped and screeched to Valen for his help.
Valen weighed his possible actions carefully and was sorely tempted to leave her where she was in order to assuage his wounded pride. However, he knew that in doing so the Seer would die and Mephistopheles would control Toril. He was not so selfish as his brethren and prompted Deekin to lead him with a swift nudge to his scaly backside.
The kobold skittered back the way he came until at last the pair found a body half-submerged in snow. Valen's hand shoveled away the snow enough so that he could grip the paladin about the waist and heave her up. Her armor creaked and groaned in protest as it moved, not willingly bending to fit comfortably in Valen's arms. He dared not look at her face as he strode forward, searching for the closest building with a consistent fire.
There, appearing like magic through the swirling wind, appeared the Temple of the Sleeping Man. Within, Valen knew there were braziers and he hoped that they would be enough. With any luck he could manipulate the fire to thaw the ice that was obviously flowing in her blood and if not…the tiefling didn't want to consider it. She will not give in so easily. Mercutia is no coward and I have never seen her give up the chase…not when victory is so near.
He kicked out his leg, sending the door of the Temple flying wide open. The Sensei looked at him with her tranquil gaze and nodded her head in greeting, stretching out a finger to remind him of the snow.
"Get the door, kobold," growled Valen.
Deekin bobbed his head in surprise and scrambled to push the heavy door back into place, his toes scratching against the floor as he lost traction with the wind.
Valen moved to the closest brazier and sank down in front of it, ignoring both Deekin and the Sensei as they peered at him curiously. He sat Mercutia down and rested her limp form against the pillar, setting to work on removing their respective armors. Intimately familiar with the clasps and ties of his own gear, he was divested of his protection in rapid time. Mercutia's armor, however, took more effort and by the time he had freed her of her equipment, his fingers were chafed and bleeding; the nails on his hand were nonexistent.
He sat Mercutia between his legs and wrapped an arm about her waist, holding her close to his body so that she could feel his warmth. His other hand he reached up and stuck in the brazier, using it to speed raise the heat in his blood rapidly. He summoned the fire's warmth into his being, absorbing it deep into his core and holding it there. Valen knew his body heat alone could not save her and without much regret, he lifted the hem of her shirt and ran his hands up her icy skin until he felt the bandages binding her breasts in place. Tugging the cloth down below the swells of creamy skin he knew rested there; he placed the palm of his hand on the skin above her heart. He closed his eyes and concentrated, channeling the heat and energy from his being into hers – directly from his hand to her heart.
Deekin watched with rapt fascination, committing every motion to detail for his book. Future readers would love this.
The heat coursed its way through Mercutia's blood and she gave a shrill scream as the fire's scalding touch licked its way through her body, burning away the ice and leaving her insides feel like puddles of goo. Sweat poured from her brow and she was acutely aware of hot breath at the back of her neck and a warm hand resting on her left breast. The paladin felt like she was stuck in one of her ardent, hazy dreams where it was just she and Valen, alone, coiled together tightly in their heat, passion and love. Yet in this dream there were no whispers of adoration or confessions of desire; no enflaming, all consuming caresses; no secret smiles or wicked smirks of surprise…there was just the sound of heavy breathing and crackling flames.
And then reality crashed over her like a cool wave on a hot summer's day.
She was in Hell. Literally. Cania, to be more precise…oh, Torm, why doesn't it end? I wish Master Drogan had told me adventuring was like this. But then the hand on her breast twitched and a flooding tide of embarrassment washed over her; it was quickly followed by a deep, simmering grudge. Valen.
"My lady?"
Mercutia's eyes widened in surprise when she realized she had spoken the name out loud. Her romantic side wanted to blush and forgive the man his transgressions. After all, how could a man with so gentle a touch ever harm her?
Valen unconsciously tightened his hold around the paladin's waist. "I am glad that you have awoken…I was unsure if I would be successful."
"Oh…heh," it was mildly hard for Mercutia to form a coherent thought when his callused hand was resting against a place no man had touched before. "Uhh…"
"I thought that we had agreed upon the sanctity of your life, my lady," he said softly. "Did I not ask for you to spare me this torment?" Mercutia struggled against his grip, but Valen was quick to pull her back, using both his hands to press her against his warm body. "My lady, you must rest."
Her eyes bulged in surprise as his fingers scraped across her delicate skin. "Um…Valen…Valen…" slowly she tried to find her voice. "Do…don't touchmethere!" She dared not move or twist away. "It makes me uncomfortable."
The tiefling blushed in understanding and took his hand away from the area, moving it lower so that it rested against her waist. "Understand that it was the only way, my lady."
Mercutia frowned, but said nothing. Blinking owlishly a few times, she cast a sidelong stare at Deekin, who upon being caught watching, scampered away behind a bookshelf. His scaly snout gave him away as he peaked at the pair between two volumes of Planar Lore Volume 3. It was amusing sight and the half-elf might have smiled on any other occasion…but as it stood, Valen held another debt above her head. The hair at the back of her neck stood on end as another puff of the tiefling's warm breath fell upon her. She shivered and again tried moving away. This time, Valen offered no resistance though she did hear him give a grunt of disapproval.
A quick spell of healing ended the disorientation as she stood to her feet and Mercutia tread on her tiptoes to a pillar on the far side of the hall, intent on adjusting her bandages and saving the last shreds of her dignity. She fixed them back into place carefully, trying to avoid the tender skin over her heart. The paladin caught a glimpse of herself in the shining floor and saw that her spell had also healed the raw texture of her face and the bleeding cuts. She returned from around the pillar, satisfied with herself and returned to her jumped pile of gear to find Valen dressed for battle again. She kept her eyes averted from him, carefully strapping her armor and weapon back into the place. The sack where she kept her journal and money at her hip.
The Sensei stood motionless, watching the two with a serene smile. "Do you still wish to see the Sleeping Man?"
The paladin nodded in response.
Slowly, Mercutia felt her mind became wrapped within that of Dharvana's. She fished out her journal and skimmed to the section she had reserved specifically for this purpose.
Then answer me these questions, Sojourner.
The paladin saw, rather than heard the questions. Who is the Sleeping Man? From where does he hail? Why did he leave? Who did he seek? What did she say?
The Sleeping Man…
The little book in her hand, the most valuable thing an adventurer could pick up, stored all her knowledge on any given assignment. It was battered and worn from travel, but the pages never seemed to end in this beaten black book. In Mercutia's hasty, elegant script, the entries read as follows:
"Farking quasit-lipped angel lovers! 'Sleeping Man this, Sleeping Man that!' You pilgrims are giving me an ulcer! He's a Planetar, all right? An angel in the Hells' own depths... Now get over it!" – Gru'ul. (Had some fun with him I did. By Torm, devils and demons are so touchy about their tails.)
The Sleeping Man is a Planetar.
"Harrumph. The Sleeping Man, is it? May he rot and freeze and rot again! The Hells have no room for bastards like him from Elysium." – A particularly nasty quarry worker. (How crass for an Erinyes. Spirit of Vengeance indeed.)
The Sleeping Man hails from Elysium.
"…Well, I've figured out the third one and it reads like a three-penny fantasy novel. Just the sort of romantic notion that the sensei would dream up... Why did he leave? Because his heart had known no love. Utter rubbish. She's created this Sleeping Man out of whole cloth and, what's worse, she's become hopelessly smitten with this character she's created." – Gith 'worshiper.' (Must introduce Sensei…I sense true love between these two.)
The Sleeping Man left because he knew no love.
"Alright, it's a fair enough tale to spin... Long before the devils laid claim to Cania, it was home to a race called the Knowers. They were collectors, catalogers of lore and some say they're still alive out there. Let the sensei call it her fourth-fold mystery if she wishes but, when the Sleeping Man came to Cania, he came in search of one Knower in particular: the Knower of Places." – Arden Swift, tiefling jester. (Not to mention crook and con artist.)
The Sleeping Man sought the Knower of Places.
"Engraved in stone at the foot of where he sleeps is the answer to the sensei's Fifth-Fold Mystery: 'She will find you by the Gates of Cania.' The words haunted me somehow and I cannot let go of them, even now." – Aribeth, ghost paladin. (Drogan, this is why I chose Torm and not Tyr.)
The Knower of Places told him that 'she will find you by the Gates of Cania.' You have your answers, Sensei, now let me pass.
The Sensei nodded her approval and silently handed over an amulet. "You will see," and she smiled her enigmatic smile before retreating to her small office.
Deekin peeked his head out from behind the bookcase. "All set, Boss?"
Mercutia nodded and beckoned the kobold back. "Come, Deekin, Valen, we seek our answers through that door."
Valen laid a tentative hand on the small of her back but Mercutia shrugged away the advance. Either he was fully hers or he wasn't hers at all, Mercutia would not share him nor by his plaything. She steeled her resolve; the amulet gripped in her hand, and strode forward through the passageway to the Sleeping Man. Each gentle two-heel step she took thundered her ire and Valen found it hard to keep his temper in check.
The tiefling found her very ungrateful and knew that all he had to do was reach out his hands around her delicate neck and squeeze. Already he could hear the bones snap and her lips whispers a final 'goodbye' – or 'I love you' – before she gurgled her way into death. He would watch her eyes dim and kiss her lips as she crumbled to dust in his hands. Although, he could always just pin her in a corner and do with her whatever he wanted, make her scream in anger, pain, lust and fury as he defiled the living temple of her god and left her bleeding and barren in this icy wasteland...
Deekin tapped him on the thigh with a claw. "Um," he looked up at Valen with his big, black eyes. "Deekin be wonderings something."
"What?" snapped Valen.
"Why is yous and boss angry with each other? Is it because of strange ghost woman?" The bard shook his head in disapproval. "Deekin is not likings her, not one bit."
"If by 'ghost woman' you mean Lanari, then yes, I do believe that she and I have conflicting opinions." Valen's tail twitched menacingly.
"But yous likes Boss! In fact, Deekin is thinking that yous like-likes Boss."
The tiefling scowled and his flail swung menacingly at his hip. "Have you been reading one of those…books…again?" growled Valen.
Deekin shook his head, avoiding the swat of Valen's hand. "No, little Deekin just want to see Boss happy. Boss sad many times before, but Deekin not sees her as sad as now." He peered up, scrutinizing the bigger being. "Deekin thinks you is cause."
"You have silly, romantic notions for a kobold, you know that?"
"Deekin writes tale as Deekin sees it. Deekin is seeing Boss and Goat Man very angry at each other and it disrupting Deekin's story telling." The bard gave an exasperated sigh. "Deekin sees things that yous do not."
Valen feigned indifference. "I have no idea what you are talking about."
"Goat Man is stupider than Deekin thinks."
"You are trying to tell me something, aren't you?" Valen sighed. "Speak and begone, bard."
"Drops the Ghost Lady," said the kobold firmly. "Boss is depending on Goat Man and yous is depending on the Boss."
Biting his lip in frustration in the fact that he was right, Valen stalked the rest of the way down the corridor and gave Deekin a growled order. "Kobold, go guard the passage door. Warn us if someone decides to enter." With that, he turned the corner into the Sleeping Man's Shrine.
Mercutia stood at the base of a dais, her eyes looked upon the face of a handsome, winged man. The Sleeping Man. About her neck she wore the Sensei's Amulet, looking serene and lovely, but sad.
"Torm protect you, Dreamer," she murmured in a low voice.
The tiefling felt an odd sensation of danger. Mercutia's attraction to this Sleeping Man did not bode well. "My lady?" he questioned.
Mercutia smiled and turned to him. Her gray eyes were naked and vulnerable before him; she looked young and innocent as she gazed upon him. "He has waited here forever," she said softly, "cast out from his home because he took up the most perfect quest in existence…the search for love. But," her smile was brittle, "even though he has no friends he is content and he is hopeful. He truly believes that she will come to him."
Valen nodded his head in acknowledgement. "If it as the Knower of Places said, then so shall it be."
"I don't believe it." The paladin shook her head and removed the amulet, placing it lovingly on the dais steps. Her eyes turned back to him, devoid of their childish appearance. "I don't think it can happen. He will pass each age in blissful awareness and never wake up. You may not believe in prophecies, tiefling," she smirked at him, "but you can trust in mine."
"You have changed," said Valen slowly, his gaze narrowing. "You do not worship as once you did…if you even worship at all, my lady."
Mercutia let loose a vicious, unstable smile. "Salvation may be found through service," she recited. "Guilt can be washed away by years and years and years and years and years and years of hard work. I feel guilt, and thus I serve. It is a simple equation, no?"
A strange feeling took shape in Valen's stomach, rolling itself into a tight knot. "You are not telling me something."
The half-elf gave a bark of laughter and shook her head in surprise. "You and I have nothing to discuss, Valen. We've made our choices." She moved away from him to the other side of the dais, trying to put distance between them as well as find some alternate method to awakening the Sleeping Man. The Amulet was not working for her, so there must have been an alternate way to question him.
Valen growled in frustration and countered the paladin's movements, rounding the dais in the opposite direction and finally cornered her retreating form by the altar. He had her back pinned against a pillar and his massive shoulders blocked any exit past him. He stared at her, disbelief mingling with his rage and confusion. "My lady, will you not speak to me?"
Mercutia looked at him with a hollow, apathetic gaze. "I have nothing to say to you." She said simply. Seeing what appeared to be a weak spot, she wedged her shoulder gingerly around the curve of the pillar but only managed to trap herself further. She gave a snarl of defiance and pushed forward, using her body as a lever against the column.
The tiefling quickly grasped her upper arms and pushed her back into place. He gripped her firmly, but not too tightly as he was aware of the sore state his fingers were in. "We are going to take now my lady," he said quietly, gaze racing over her face for some sign of emotion. "I nearly lost you again…and I know well that you are stronger than this. You have given in to death so easily. Tell me, Mercutia, tell me why this has happened!"
The paladin opened her mouth in disbelief. "You mean you do not know?"
"Not the truth, no, I do not."
"Oh that is rich, Valen," said Mercutia softly. "I thought it was common knowledge that anyone who breaks an oath is damned."
"I swore my love to you, Mercutia," Valen's eyes narrowed, "and I am never forsworn." He tried hard to contain the bestial growl in the back of his throat.
"I don't believe you," Mercutia turned her head away to look at the floor. "I see into your heart, Valen, my beast, I know you can't make a decision." Her upper lip curled, "but know that I am not some territory you can mark, not a piece of meat you can claim…it is either always me or never me!"
The tiefling eyed her dangerously. "You know I - "
"No," replied the half-elf in a quiet, condescending voice that made Valen seethe. "I don't know. You see, I don't make it a habit to trust deceitful, lying, fiends." It was such a smooth, mellow voice…"and you are, my beast, that and more."
Valen's eyes went wide with shock and he moved his grip from her arm to her throat. "How can you even say such a thing?" His fingers slowly began to tighten on the defenseless flesh. "After all that we have been through together, you would say something like this?" His electric blue eyes muted to purple and then red, his skin feverish and hot against the paladin's. He was now in perfect harmony, equal parts demon and man, both outraged, shocked and working in unison. "I nearly lost you," he whispered, bringing his face close to hers, his breath on her lips. "Two times I brought you forth from death and this is what you say!?"
Mercutia turned her gaze back to him, love, sadness and pity commingling in her eyes. "It is," she whispered, for jealousy was unbecoming in a paladin.
8-8-8
Valen silenced any more words by pressing his mouth forcefully against hers. It was a hard, bruising kiss, his lips crushing her yielding ones in a dramatic show of domination and submission. She surrendered to him, showed it by the way she slipped her head back to allow him better access to her soft, waiting skin and murmured incoherent words of encouragement to his fiery mouth and hands. "If you knew…" whispered Valen hoarsely, "…just how long," he kissed her jaw and trailed his tongue to her ear, "I've wanted to do this…" he tasted the skin there, ticking it with his hot breath. "How long I've needed you…" he bit down on the lobe, "wanted to taste you…"
Mercutia took a sharp intake of breath in response, her mind blank but for the hands skirting up and down her body, removing all pieces of armor in their wake and leaving the skin underneath begging for their touch. Valen pressed into her painfully as her unprotected form suffered from the spikes and rough edges that littered his breastplate. She gave a cry of pain when one dug particularly deep into her shoulder, but she was silenced by a rough, hot hand clamping over her mouth.
"Do not!" Valen scolded, his fingers digging in deeply to her cheeks.
The paladin nodded in a mixture of fright and desire, wanting only that hand to return to its exploration of her body and not leave any more bruises. Instead it moved to his shoulder, its twin joining it, and Mercutia was pinned to the wall by his powerful hips as Valen swiftly removed his armor. He pushed her back with a muscular shoulder as he bent to remove his greaves. Finally free, he turned back to her, pressing against her fully and kissing her mouth deeply.
The paladin's hands grasped at his tunic shirt for support, her knees failing to keep her steady as his tongue and hips moved in unison. He took her bottom lip between his teeth and bit down and Mercutia's eyes popped open in pain. Gently he sucked the blood from her lip, muting her whimpers with deep growls that vibrated throughout their bodies.
Warning bells began to sound in Mercutia's as Valen's mouth slipped down to her neck, nipping the tender flesh there and kissing the skin along the outline of her tunic. She was murmuring something to him, perhaps telling him to stop or telling him never to stop…it was all so hazy and there was an ache…an ache only he could soothe away with his rough hands and wet mouth. Intensifying the ache was her deep rooted anger and she grasped hair and horn tightly in her fingers as he descended lower on her body, ripping the buttons of clothing to expose white flesh.
She threw her head back into the stone pillar, blinding pain shooting through her head and she clung to Valen's horns more tightly. Their texture was odd in her hands and she unconsciously pulled him to better examine them.
"You have man handles," commented Mercutia huskily in explanation to Valen's dangerous gaze.
Valen was quick to extricate the paladin's hands from his hair and granted her with another ferocious kiss. "I am in control," he hissed at her. His eyes pinned her from moving or speaking with an intense stare. Satisfied, he grasped her arms tightly, pushing them behind her back and holding them there with one hand. His other trailed a path of fire down her torso and came to grasp her hip firmly. He ground against her, his eyes darkening to black with desire.
More warnings signaled in Mercutia's head but she couldn't think straight.
"Need you…" growled Valen through gritted teeth. He lifted her bodily, wrapping one of her legs about his hip and laying her to rest on the Sleeping Man's sacrificial altar. He looked down at her panting form, his gaze traveling up and down her body hungrily before he leaned forward to cover her. He ground against her, feeling the friction between them become unbearable. "Take you…now…" he murmured against her parted lips. She would be ready, she was ready, and he would break her. He would take her right there, ravage her upon this altar and she would bleed for him. His hands had finished untying the drawstrings of her breaches and he was starting on his own…
8-8-8
The warning was more insentient, taking a true form now and a single, clear voice called out among all the confusion of her racing heartbeat. DO NOT!
The delirium came to a screeching halt and Mercutia pulled up a leg and kicked Valen square in the chest, sending him staggering back a few feet. Deftly she hopped off the table, gripping her breaches tightly in one hand and using the other to fumble about her neck for Torm's holy symbol. She held it out in front of her as if to ward off evil. "Stay…stay…away!" she gasped furiously. "Stay back!"
Valen took a deep breath and found himself shocked back into reality. He looked – horror stricken – at the livid red marks around Mercutia's throat and body. He recognized them as his love bites, his way of marking his territory of which Mercutia's beautiful skin was. He saw the angry marks left by his rough fingers and knew that by tomorrow, ugly bruises would pepper her body. Biting his lip, Valen didn't know what to say to this creature of pure goodness standing before him. He was a horrible beast, she had been right all along. He had tried to take her by force and she would never forgive him for it.
He was a disgusting, disgusting creature and he hated himself for it.
The tiefling opened his mouth to speak, to say something, anything, but Mercutia's sharp cry cut him straight to the heart.
"You're a monster." Her face was pained as the words came out of her mouth. "You're a horrible beast!"
Valen didn't respond. It was true, he was a monster. He was a beast. He was a creature of evil and he could never hope to attain the love of such a woman as Mercutia. She was too pure for him and all he could do was bring her harm. He could only bruise her lovely body with his battle hardened hands and love her inadequately with his wild fury.
"Do you hear me, you're a monster!"
The tiefling picked up his armor and refastened it with an air of submission. All his questions were answered. She didn't fight death because he had entered her life; he had made it too painful for her to keep going. The paladin had an important quest and he was only standing in her way and hindering her progress. He was torn between death and life, love and familiarity…he did not want to hurt as he had done others. He had to leave if she was going to survive. The oath could not be forced upon her and he walked down the long corridor, his tail shamefully between his legs. Defeat rested upon his shoulders and despair was etched upon his brow. He passed the kobold in silence and disappeared into the numbing air of the Hell. Mercutia's screams echoed in his ears.
"YOU'RE A MONSTER! I TRUSTED YOU! YOU BEAST, YOU HORRIBLE BEAST! I HATE YOU! MONSTER! MONSTER! I HATE YOU!"
Her chant continued on for hours, releasing all the rage and darkness in her body that had accumulated over the years. The paladin let it all go, releasing herself of sanity's bonds and span in circles, faster and faster, screaming out her frustrations over and over again. She stopped only when her voice shattered and even then, when her voice was nothing more but wailing and guttural cries of agony, she continued on. Her mouth was bloody and her nerves raw, cracked beyond measure. Her pride had won the battle with her heart; she had been too absorbed in herself and what was best for her and as a result let love slip through her fingers. It had been her greatest possession at one point, but now she knew just how much of a stupid, silly, little girl she was.
But…she liked it, in a sense. The release of her rage and frustration, it had opened something long dormant within her. In those first few moments when she realized that though she tried to be, she really wasn't a nice person, it had been like breathing air for the first time. She was darker, something else…a shade of her former self almost. A shadow.
She grimaced in pain and dropped to her knees, denying that she was becoming what she despised most. If it was true, than everything she had worked for had now become void. Her thoughts were stripped naked and her soul had left with Valen's departure, there was nothing left for her but the cold. Mercutia felt it wrack through her body and warmth became her only thought. Vision was welcoming blackness that swirled about her head as she teetered on the steep edge of a cliff. It was only when she felt the warmth of a body next to her that she came to her senses again.
In her trance, she had crawled her way up and onto the dais. The Planetar lay beside her, smiling in some gentle dream of true love. His wings twitched softly and the paladin reached out a freezing hand to touch the immaculate feathers; the closest she had come to true perfection. No one had cried for this man, but that was about to change. That day, Mercutia wept for him and for them all by the Gates of Cania.