Chapter 9: A Rogue's Heart
The crimson stains were everywhere.
Cobwebbed tapestries hung from corner to corner of the countess's private chamber—over which several decades' worth of dust and soot had collected. A fountain carved of dull-grey stone stood at the very center of the room, adorned with a rather gruesome-looking centerpiece of cherubs entwined within thorny vines.
It was naught but crimson blood that flowed freely from within the urns of the cherubs.
She stood by the fountain, her slender fingers dipped delicately within the gently bubbling liquid. Her hair was pure ivory—it flowed in silken waves over her curvacious figure. She wore a gown of embroidered silver satin, upon which countless diamonds of excellent quality had been sewn.
Cordelia thought that the countess might have been beautiful—she certainly had an air of exquisiteness about her. And then there was her high, proud nose, delicate lips; and cheekbones that looked as though they'd been carved of marble.
Yes. Perhaps she had been beautiful. The sorceress did not care much, for all that stood before her was a scornful woman; who in death thought herself fairest still within the realms.
The countess's eyes flashed crimson—and her lips curled upwards in a smile both sweet and terrible. In a single, sweeping movement, she was afoot—the many skirts of her gown billowed about, revealing a pair of lissom, well-muscled legs as she fashioned a bow out of thin air. Turning towards the sorceress, she flexed her fingers—and then released a single, shimmering arrow.
Cordelia inhaled sharply; her eyes widened just a touch as she lifted her free hand, and gasped, "Caer thioniadyrm!"
The crimson bolt of fire collided mid-air with the arrow; together, they exploded to form a myriad of crackling sparks and embers.
The countess laughed; she flung her free arm out into the wide space, releasing a shrill, almost inhuman screech. Cordelia cringed—clasping her hands over her ears as she cast a sideways glance towards her companion; Kashya's eyes were narrowed ever so slightly, emotionless—without fear.
And then, with no warning whatsoever, a great sisterhood of corrupted rogue archers broke into the chamber from all sides. The countess laughed ever harder; with a great many cries of triumph, and countless tens of stray arrows, the siege of the Forgotten Tower began.
Cordelia gritted her teeth as she ducked arrow after arrow—many of the rogues held magic within their veins. She noted, with grim distaste, that the arrows that came so close to piercing her flesh were bewitched and enchanted; they carried frost and fire within their bronze-plated heads.
Her heart in her throat, Cordelia charged towards a group of rogues—sparks of adrenaline flowed through her veins as she lifted her staff, and summoned the magic within her; and cried—"Adis arquech!"
It happened in a flash of bright, sparkling lights—the chamber echoed with cries of shock and surprise as a ring of ivory lightning expanded from the very soles of the sorceress's boots; it barbed across the grey-stone floors in various crackling designs.
She was only faintly aware that Kashya had ceased all attempts at battlings; the Captain stood agape within a corner of her own, her bow held loose within the palm of her hand. Perhaps it was shock that held her so—and perhaps it was the sudden lack of opponents within the chamber; for many of the corrupted rogue archers had fallen dead onto the ground, having come into unfortunate contact with the supernova of electricity.
A second of shocked silence followed, in which the countess stood still—her gown fell loose over her shoulders as her crimson eyes studied the slumped figures of her fallen warriors. And then, with an ear-splitting screech, she lifted her bow, aimed towards the sorceress, and let loose a fire-imbued arrow.
Cordelia cried out in fright—then jumped out of the way of the arrow. It hit a wall of wooden barrels behind her; and the effect was immediate. The barrels burst into flames, with bangs and explosions not unlike that of the sorceress's fireballs. "Kashya!" She shrieked.
"What?" The Captain stood amidst a battle of her own; she fired arrow after arrow in rapid succession towards the wave of rogue archers surrounding her.
"Kill the rest of them!" The sorceress grunted heavily—several of the barrels nearer to her had caught fire; within mere seconds, they'd exploded in bursts of fireworks and flames. The force sent her crashing into the wall behind her; she cried out in pain; then gritted her teeth and straightened, disregarding the river of blood coursing down along her forehead and cheek.
"What in the name of the devil—do you think—" Kashya yelled. Her voice bore a rather irritable quality; Cordelia could only suppose that she was busy amidst the demons. "—that I'm doing right now?!"
"Sorry!" She shrieked—and then dodged yet another arrow that came towards her. "Augh!"
She found, with dismay, that her vision was somewhat diminished; the free-flowing blood had begun to make its way into the corners of her eyes—it stung. The countess had sensed her weakness; she gave a low, throaty laugh of glee—then made towards the sorceress, bowstring drawn taut. A single, glimmering arrow had been fixed upon the string—it crackled with dark magic.
It would, no doubt, strike a very painful wound.
The sorceress took but a second to stare at the arrow—then ducked low beneath its range, and lifted her staff. "Caer sapher!" She winced slightly at the sudden warmth upon her face—for a bright, blazing length of flames, not unlike that of dragon's breath, had erupted from within the headpiece of her staff.
She'd barely had two seconds to register the warmth of the fire upon her face; an icy chill had begun to descend within the shadows of the chamber. The inferno within her staff—which had previously burnt an ever brilliant shade of crimson flickered; and then, almost as a snuffed candle would, went out.
Cordelia gasped—and the countess smirked, crimson eyes alit with maddening glee. And with a single, swift swipe of her bony hand, the sorceress's staff came loose of its owner's grip; it fell to the ground in a series of clattering beats.
Clearly, mere magic was of no use against such an opponent.
The sorceress inhaled sharply—then jumped to her feet. She'd spotted salvation upon one of the walls of the darkened chamber: a pair of double-edged blades, arranged beneath the steel womb of a single, circular shield.
She'd never been particularly good with such weapons; it was with a softened grunt of determination that the sorceress tugged the blades loose of their stony prison. Blade in each hand, she turned—and faced the countess, her mouth set into a thin, grim line.
The countess, too, had disposed of her bow—she held a wide, serrated blade in one hand, and a heavily-spiked shield, in the other. She smirked—then charged towards the sorceress, poised to kill.
Cordelia thought she could feel the heavy thumping of her heart against her chest—and yet, she was determined to win the battle. She gritted her teeth; then raised her blade to meet that of the countess's. Steel met steel in thundering clashes—both were determined to remain the last one standing.
"Ungh!" The sorceress staggered back—her mere half second's hesitation had cost her; the countess had taken advantage of her situation to place a slender, but deep gash upon her cheek.
Of course, Cordelia thought, as she cursed at the fates, the countess would be trained in melee—as well as the arcane arts. For one so obssessed with beauty, it came as rather a surprise that the woman knew her way about a battlefield.
Releasing a rather faint grunt under her breath, Cordelia dodged yet another blow—and then, without quite thinking it through, she lifted her swords as she would a great pair of shears; then swept them through the air, in an attempt at severing the countess's neck.
The countess moved, with ease, out of the way—she cackled with amusement even as she raised her own sword to slash at the sorceress.
Cordelia bit her lower lip, her brow creasing into a faint scowl. She sidestepped the countess, and raised her blade. The countess laughed; in a flurry of billowing silver satin, she flew at her opponent—it was time to finish the fight—
And then, with a clattering of fallen weapons, the entire chamber was engulfed in light—and a piercing scream filled the cold, still air of the Forgotten Tower.
And when the light dissolved into darkness once more, the sorceress stood, panting heavily, over the crumpled corpse of the once-beautiful countess.
"Aha—" She whispered faintly—out of the corner of her wearied eyes, she thought she could see several mounds of glimmering gold coins. And then, her legs gave way—she fell onto the ground, and surrendered herself to the enfolding darkness.
"Wake up."
Cordelia groaned quietly; she could feel a boot in her side. It seemed to want to waken her—even as she clasped a hand over her eyes, in an attempt to return to the darkness, it nudged her; hard.
She stirred slightly—though she could not find the strength to pry her eyes open.
"Wake up right now." The voice that spoke was dangerously low. "Or I shall leave you here."
The sorceress moaned softly—then allowed a single, pallid eye to flutter open. "—Kashya?"
"Obviously."
"Ungh."
It was several seconds later before she came to realise that she lay strewn over a mangled corpse—she could feel the bony abdomen of the countess with the point of her chin.
With a soft cry of disgust, Cordelia jumped to her feet—then winced. Every inch of her skull ached—as did her side. For several long seconds, she could only stare; at the countess, and at the rogue Captain. When she found her voice again, it was low—almost a whisper. "What happened?"
Kashya smirked slightly—she seemed rather unsympathetic. "You cast a spell. And she died." She lifted a torch from its hook—then wrinkled her brow slightly.
Cordelia saw, now, that there had been a hitherto unnoticed ledge—built into the walls of the chamber, as it were. It ran from wall to wall—joined from corner to corner. The Captain lowered the torch—then stood back, smiling as crimson flames burst forth upon the ledge; and these flames spread as wildfire would upon oil, illuminating the vast expanses of the riches within the chamber.
"—and?" The sorceress muttered blearily—she did not feel quite well enough to show amazement at the treasure. "That's it?"
"Yes." The Captain said, simply. She had begun to stride about the grandly-lit chamber; with a soft—"Ha!" of triumph, she knelt by a corner—then shifted aside to reveal a jewel-encrusted chest of lacquered rosewood. "We can keep some of the gold in this."
Cordelia rubbed bleakly at the side of her head—then nodded. She pulled a vial from her pack—then swallowed its contents in two long draughts.
They had much work to do.
The chamber was filled with piles and piles of gold—mounds of silver, and countless heaps of gems and jewels. By the time they were ready to return to the encampment, they heaved between them, in addition to the jewel-encrusted rosewood, three gilded chests and four large sacks—within which the riches of the Forgotten Tower had been stored.
Dawn had begun to creep over the reddish skies when the sorceress and the rogue stumbled through the blue-black portal. Their appearance had, at first, startled several young rogue scouts—surely, their Captain would not be caught in such senseless company? They eyed the sorceress dubiously—then lifted their hands in salutations towards their battle-commander.
Cordelia returned the rogues' scathing gazes—then turned on her heels, and strode to a quieter corner of the encampment. "Stupid little women." She muttered darkly under her breath.
"You cannot blame them for being wary, Tia-aldyn Cordelia." Kashya had come up behind her—the rogue seemed somewhat amused, though her voice retained its cool demeanor. "They do not know you enough to trust you."
"Do you trust me?" The sorceress lifted her gaze towards the Captain, her pallid eyes searching. After several short seconds of silence, she lowered herself onto the ground, emptied a chest of gold onto the grass, and began to count.
She had supposed that Kashya was watching her—she could certainly feel the rogue's eyes upon the red of her hair. Half a moment later, the rogue had settled herself onto the grass before her. She, too, began to count.
And then—"Yes."
Cordelia smiled slightly—though she did not think to speak. Several moments of passed in which the two sat in companiable silence. And then, the deed was done—the gold lay in glittering heaps upon the grass, their true value amassed.
"Seventy-four thousand, eighty hundred and twenty nine gold pieces." The sorceress sat in solemn awe. "And that's without the added values of the gems and jewels—"
"—nor the other pieces of jewelry, nor the silver." Kashya finished. She, too, seemed stunned. "Shall we begin to rejoice by dancing about the bonfire?"
Cordelia threw her hair over her shoulders, and began to laugh. Somehow, the thought of the stiff-mannered, solemn Captain dancing amused her greatly. And then, with rather a rogue-ish grin—"You can dance. But do it after Saul awakens—I think he'd enjoy the sight."
Kashya smirked—and then began to heap smaller columns of gold into a small potato sack. "Five thousand gold pieces for Gheed—" She began. "—then we can divide the rest."
The sorceress quirked a weak smile. To think of such wealth, surely, would cause great headaches. "Here, I'll handle Gheed." She reached out to take a hold of the sack. And then, with rather a grim frown—"Do you think he'd ask for more?"
The Captain shrugged—then plucked a jewel-encrusted dagger from one of the piles. She held it out towards the sorceress.
"You think he'll be happy with this?" Cordelia held the dagger to eye level—it was clearly crafted of sheer skill. Perfectly-shaped emeralds glinted within the hilt of entwined gold-and-silver vines—and upon the blade were carved several short verses in the M'arroc tongue.
Kashya crossed her arms—then twirled a ruby-and-diamond ring about her index finger. "Don't offer it to him. Threaten him with it."
She could barely keep from smirking even as she crossed the encampment to the merchant's caravan-clearing. He sat upon his stool, puffing contentedly upon a pipe. Even as the sorceress entered his domain, he smirked—then got to his feet, brushing pipeweed from his tunic.
"Returned, have you?" He spoke mildly—with absolutely no remorse in his voice.
Cordelia thinned her lips. She no longer felt amused. "Five thousand gold pieces, as promised." She threw the sack of gold onto his stool—it fell open to reveal the golden trove within. "Now give me the antidote."
The merchant smirked—and the sorceress thought she could see a glint of glee in his greed-filled eyes. "I'm afraid the price has increased, little lass. Ten thousand gold pieces." He took another puff of his pipe, then yawned.
The sorceress narrowed her eyes; and then took a step towards him. "You, Gheed, are naught but a damned pig. Give me the antidote—now."
"Do you attempt to frighten me, young sorceress?" The merchant blinked, as though mildly interested. "Kashya would have been much better suited for it. You are far too innocent to attempt much of the sort."
Cordelia thinned her lips—then drew the blade from her belt. She turned the blade over in her palm; then shifted her gaze to the merchant, and was glad to see that he had begun to look uncomfortable. "Your blood is not worth my soul." She began. "If you're not going to live up to your end of the bargain—" She stooped—then scooped the sack of gold into her arms.
He frowned—and she could see that he was beginning to worry. "Now there, lass—"
"—Hrm?" The sorceress straightened, then blinked placidly towards the other. "If you do not wish to make the sale, I shan't attempt to force you."
"But—" The merchant was sputtering now—shades of crimson were beginning to creep into his cheeks.
Cordelia tilted her head gently—then began to stride quite slowly away. "It's quite alright. Saul won't die—see, Akara's found a different antidote. So we really don't need you." She looked at him over her shoulder—and offered him what she knew to be a sweet, yet coy smile. "Good-bye, Gheed."
She'd barely taken five steps, however, when the merchant cried out—"Alright, fine! I'll take the five thousand!"
The sorceress choked back an amused chuckle; and without quite turning to face him, said, "Akara asks for naught."
"Fine! I'll give it to you for three thousand!"
"No, thank you." Her voice was almost musical as she took yet another step; any second now, he would give in.
"One thousand!"
"Aha." Cordelia smirked to herself—then returned, reluctantly, to the merchant's side. "Oh, fine." She sighed.
Several minutes later, the sorceress left the clearing, the antidote tucked safely away within her belt and the gold slung easily over her shoulder. She whistled as she walked—Gheed would, no doubt, be furious when he discovered the actual truth.
For now—Saul would be just fine.
"The circlet. It's rather pretty."
It had been hours since they'd acquired the antidote—the sun glowed warm in the skies; it was near mid-day. Akara had long begun her healing—and she fully expected Saul to awaken before nightfall.
There had been nothing left to do, save for the dividing of the treasure.
They sat across one another in Akara's clearing. They'd long since divided the gold, silver, gems and jewels—it was now the great mound of jewelry and gowns that sat in between them. Charsi and Liene had joined them—and the four women had laughed in amusement at the sorceress's treatment of Gheed; laughter was hard to come by.
It was, as they said in between chuckles and snickers, an amazing feat—to indirectly rob such a man of his gold.
Cordelia chuckled softly—then reached across the pile to take a hold of the circlet; it was wrought of gold and silver, meticulously twisted and bedecked with delicately cut topaz-and-diamond roses to form a sort of woodland crown. She placed it atop her head—then giggled. For all the darkness and doom within the realms, the sorceress rather enjoyed the beauty of gowns and jewelry. She'd slipped a simple silver ring, topped with a minute emerald upon her middle finger—the jade hue of the roughly-hewn gem matched her staff head-piece well.
Kashya rolled her eyes—but offered a small smile. "Those vambraces over there." She held her hand out; and Liene handed her the set of gold-plated wrist-guards.
"What time do you think he'll awaken?" Charsi wrinkled her nose slightly—she, alone had remained rather dismal throughout the treasure-sorting. Cordelia had supposed it was because she was worried.
"I wouldn't worry, Charsi." Cordelia bit her lower lip, scratching her nose for several long seconds. Then, holding her arms out—"Liene, hand me that gown. The green one with the russet-brocade."
Liene chuckled—then shook her head. "I don't suppose you'll wear such a thing into battle?"
"Hardly." The sorceress sighed; she ran a finger delicately along the jade silk—then quirked a tiny smile. "But I suppose I can find sometime to wear these." She waved a hand over the pile of richly-embroidered silks and satins by her side, and then, with rather a defensive frown—"Besides, I never had gowns as a child."
The Captain chuckled—then reached over to take a hold of a handsomely-crafted set of silver plate-mail. "Mine."
They divided the rest of the treasure in such a fashion; the sorceress chose all forms of delicate jewelry, whilst the Captain chose armour and somesuch items of practical use and great worth. The sun had begun to set by the time they were quite done. Charsi had returned to her smithy—and Liene had, likewise, returned to her duties.
Cordelia stretched her arms over her head—then yawned. A great pile of bejewelled silks and satins lay within the rosewood chest beside her, carefully folded to avoid the creasing of the materials. Within this chest, also, rested the jewelry—string after string of ivory pearls glowed amidst pendants, bracelets, necklaces and circlets of gold and silver. And yet another chest—of bronze and ebon-steel, lay open upon her other side—this one had been filled with coins of every imaginable value.
"Do you feel—" She began, rather uncomfortably. An odd sort of emotion had begun to settle deep within her chest—she was not quite used to owning such vast amounts of treasure. "—as if this treasure is beginning to weigh upon you?"
The Captain bit her lip—then nodded, if only just a touch. The excitement had long since worn off for her—she felt quite bored by now. "Keep it, though. It may yet be useful for you."
Cordelia sighed, wrinkling her nose as she shut the lid of the rosewood chest. "I know. But it's too much."
"I should have thought that you, of all people, would be used to such finery." Kashya gave the sorceress a little smile—then pushed herself to her feet. "Were things not so within the Medjai-Kiel?"
Cordelia chuckled briefly. "I—I suppose so." She murmured. And then, getting to her feet—"I guess I didn't think that the memory of home would catch up with me quite so soon." She did not give the rogue the chance to question her words, smiling instead and motioning towards the entrance of Akara's tent. "I think Saul should be awake by now."
Kashya frowned at her for several long seconds—and then, shrugging mildly, said, "I suppose. Can I go to him first?"
"You've probably heard this before—" Cordelia chuckled faintly. "—but follow your heart."
The Captain lifted a crimson brow. "I suppose that's you saying yes?"
"Mm—hmm." The sorceress nodded once, though she quirked an amused smile. "Go on."
And, with rather a grateful smile, the rogue nodded; then disappeared into the darkened space of her sister's tent.
Author's Note: Alright, you guys! Here's another chapter—It's got a rather lighter feel to it, compared to the other chapters. But I decided that our girls needed some good ol' fun. And what better fun can there be than giggling over gowns and jewelry?
And, I actually had this chapter ready about five days ago. I just thought I'd hold it hostage so you guys would review. Apparently, none of you want to. And yes, I am pouting.
Again, with the pronounciations!
Adis arquech is pronounced Ahd-is ar-quiche.
Many thanks to: Ophelion and Bien! You have no idea how bright-cheerful-happy I get when I received your reviews. They mean the world to me. Thank you, thank you, thank you!
Thanks again, and don't forget to R and R for this chapter! (Pretty please with sugar on top?) This is Emmy signing off for now!