Defiant Necromancer (Book 2 stubbed)

Samara came awake as a surge of pleasure threatened to overwhelm her.

She blinked twice, shook her head, and the world around came into view.

She was in bed.

Still in her room. She looked down and frowned at what she saw. The familiar rush of shame washed over her.

She pulled her wet, sticky fingers from between her legs and pulled her nightgown back down. She was relieved, on nights like tonight, that she kept insisting on a room of her own at each inn or temple they had stayed at. She had done the same, now that they were in Enh, with regard to the Nietian Army base. Since she was one of the few women, and a paladin, they had granted her request with a minimum of fuss.

That had been important.

The dream had been so real this time that she had started pleasuring herself in her sleep. She was bending her vows almost without thinking about it now.

How shameful. But there was no conviction in the thought, and finally, after looking at the bottom of the door to make sure that she hadn’t seen any light go on in the hallway, she lifted the hem of the nightgown back up and, thinking of the man from the dream, she finished what she had started.

***

“You look like you slept a bit better,” said Black Hailgrim over breakfast.

“That’s right. I have a little bit of a new sleep routine. Just some, um, exercises to help me relax.” Samara lied with just a twinge of guilt this time. She was getting much more comfortable with misleading her comrades on a daily basis.

“I hope you keep it up, whatever your new routine is,” Mischa said earnestly. “The sleep issues you’ve been suffering have had us all worried.”

“I’ll make sure to continue it,” Samara said, managing to keep any trace of irony from her tone. “What do you mean ‘us all,’ Mischa?”

“Just that our, uh, friends from the Trust have also noted what we’ve observed,” Hailgrim said quietly, in a delicate tone. “It’s nothing you need to worry about, girl.”

Her eyes widened slightly, though she tried not to show her slight alarm on her face.

Nothing I need to worry about if I’m doing all that I should be and nothing I shouldn’t, she thought.

That was technically true. There was nothing to point to, for all the inquisitors and holy knights Bram had brought. Even if they had wanted to accuse her of some wrongful conduct, there would be no proof.

“I think the General wants to see you today,” Hailgrim added.

“Me?” Samara’s voice came out almost as a squeak, but she pushed through before either Hailgrim or Mischa could say anything about it. “Why me? Isn’t he busy?”

“Definitely,” Mischa said. “The brigade is ready, everyone’s saying so, and his son came back with the nature mage the General said we needed.”

General Caracalla was bringing only a brigade, since he anticipated that the presence of so many holy people would make the fight against the undead easier - and, it was quietly speculated, to avoid bolstering the ranks of the necromancer too much, should they fail.

“Ugh,” Samara said. She made herself shrug as her two companions looked at her inquisitively. “She just seems unpleasant.”

“I liked her well enough, I think,” Mischa volunteered in a diplomatic tone of voice. “But we hardly know her.”

It was hard to say why Samara disliked Lady Miranda. Perhaps the paladin was being overly critical due to her own personal issues clouding her judgment. She knew she wasn’t quite in her right mind these days.

But something about the nature mage rang false, like she was hiding a secret.

Miranda was on their side, and she wasn’t accused of some crime, so neither Samara nor any of the Divine Trust’s inquisitors had said anything, but the paladin felt it was likely that others had noticed something about her that wasn’t quite right too.

Either that, or my judgment is more deeply impaired than I’ve yet reckoned with.

“Lady Samara.” A formal-sounding military voice broke into the momentary quiet that had settled over the table.

The paladin looked up and met the scale-armored man’s eyes, then nodded to him.

“General Caracalla would like to see you.”

She rose, made herself smile at Mischa and Hailgrim, and followed the soldier out of the dining room.

***

“Thank you for coming, Lady Samara,” the General said.

“Of course, sir,” Samara replied.

The door closed behind her as the General’s messenger left them. Left Samara alone with this man whose piercing blue eyes seemed to know the other person’s thoughts before they had opened their mouth. He wore no helmet now, but dressed in a cowled robe, he kept his features besides his eyes and beard concealed in shadow.

There had to be some reason for that. Samara had heard speculation among his soldiers that it was something to do with his class, but she wanted to know the answer.

She chose not to think about why she felt that powerful desire to know.

It wasn’t the dreams. Probably.

“Well, dear lady, I wish I could have spoken with you alone sooner,” General Caracalla said. “You understand how preoccupied I have been, I feel certain.”

“Yes, sir.”

“One way or another, the coming campaign is likely to be my last hurrah as a leader.” He smiled grimly. She opened her mouth to say something nice - it sounded like he was saying he was too old to continue his service or perhaps even implying they would lose - but he shook his head. “That’s not necessary. When you lead the life I have, you come to understand the blessing it is that certain things are temporary.”

“I see. Um, might I ask why you wanted to see me, sir?”

He nodded. “Straight to business. I understand you’ve been asking to see your sister.”

“Oh. Yes, sir, I understand she has been… in seclusion.”

“You can say it, my lady. The Kingdom - the Grand Duke - has been keeping her under house arrest within the Great Temple.”

“That is how I have heard it explained,” Samara acknowledged, keeping her expression carefully impassive. She suddenly felt that this conversation might be some sort of trap.

“You don’t need to be so on guard with me, Lady Samara,” Caracalla said, smiling. His teeth gleamed a little too brightly, she noticed now that they were in close proximity. “Speak to me openly. Perhaps we can help each other out.”

“Very well. I am concerned for my sister. I asked if I could see her, because I wanted to make sure she was all right in her present situation.”

“I think that could be arranged,” the General replied.

That’s why you wanted to see me? What’s the catch?

“Thank you, sir,” she said carefully

“The truth is, I don’t approve of the way the Grand Duke has handled the High Priestess recently. She interfered in affairs of state, though, so he felt he had to make an example of her.”

Yeah, that sounds like Asha.

“I see.”

“I’m trying to see the larger picture that’s sometimes difficult for political leaders to grasp,” he went on. “I need you to remind High Priestess Asha of the greater reality.”

“What reality is that, sir?” Samara’s voice came out colder than she intended. It was obvious that the General wanted her to do something in exchange for getting to see her sister.

“No need to be so cool, my lady.” He softened his voice. “I only ask that you remind her that her followers need her. This country needs her. I understand that recently, she has been refusing to eat in some misguided protest to the current circumstances. But she will need her strength. We might fail in our mission. If we do, the most powerful line of defense for Enh… is the Great Temple and its leader.”

***

Samara had to submit to a thorough, almost undignified, search before she could get through to see her sister.

They at least let her keep her underclothes on, but the soldiers seemed to be enjoying the eyeful they got while making certain she didn’t have any magical artifacts or weapons for the High Priestess.

“You’ll have half an hour,” the head guard said as they ascended the stairs. He gave her a greasy smile that felt unclean. “Best make good use of it.”

She simply nodded and turned away from him, and the man stayed at the top of the stairway as Samara advanced to the door.

The paladin rapped her knuckles on the door and waited, but she wasn’t prepared for the reaction her knock got.

“Get the fuck away from here!” a shrill voice shrieked.

It was even imbued with a little bit of mana, so it actually hurt Samara’s ears more than it naturally should have. She could hardly recognize the voice as her sister’s.

“Asha, it’s me!” Samara called back.

There was a sound of rapidly approaching footsteps, and then the door jerked open.

“Sister,” Asha said, eyes gleaming as if Samara was a treasure she’d been searching for.

The paladin couldn’t remember a time her older sister had ever been that happy to see her.

“Asha, I wanted to see if you were all right, and - your clothes!”

As Samara spoke, Asha had opened the door wider and come into full view. Samara had a clear view of her sister’s clothing, and the robes she wore were torn like some animal had savaged her.

“Have they - have they mistreated you?” Samara asked in a hushed tone.

Asha waved a hand, and the outside world seemed to grow quiet.

“There, I placed a barrier around us to keep sound from getting in and out,” the High Priestess said. She sounded nonchalant as she spoke now, her clothing and her words a marked contrast. She adjusted herself, wrapping her robes more tightly to her body. “As for these, don’t worry about them. I rent my garments as a sign of my displeasure.”

“You what?”

“I am the High Priestess of Astara. I must make my discontent at this indignity known by whatever means are at my disposal.”

“Asha… it’s me. Are you serious? You tore up your own clothes just to be dramatic?”

“You could summarize it that way, if you wanted to belittle my actions.”

“I’m just—” An image of the men leering at her as she undressed and redressed to get into Asha’s space flashed through her mind—“I’m surprised you were willing to do that with the soldiers here.”

“They wouldn’t dare touch me. If they did, I’d turn them to dust.”

The paladin blinked. Of course Asha felt in control even in this situation. She did have power, though using it aggressively would probably get her killed once she ran out of energy, as well as shattering the relationship between Kingdom and Faith.

“Samara.” Asha pursed her lips. “Why did you come here? It wasn’t to critique my fashion choices. Has the Grand Duke seen reason? No, that couldn’t be why you’re here. You didn’t come to break me out of my confinement? That would be too bold for you, even if it is exactly what I need. Did you perhaps come to tell me the Hero slew the Defiant Necromancer?”

“No.” Samara took a deep breath. “I’m actually part of General Caracalla’s expedition, going to the Salt Waste to, um, deal with the necromancer.”

The High Priestess frowned. “Why are you joining the Kingdom? I gave that task to you, and I deliberately didn’t tell anyone from the government… though it seems my confidence was betrayed by someone.”

Someone you revealed something to in bed, big sister? Samara thought. She no longer had any room to talk on that front, but she knew Asha’s habits enough that she guessed that might be the cause of this information leaking.

“You see, the Hero… didn’t want to do it.”

Samara managed to give Asha a very abbreviated explanation of what had happened before her sister gave her a frustrated grunt and cut her off.

“You were supposed to manage him!” Asha complained. “That was your one job. Next thing I know, you’re going to tell me you fucked him and lost your paladin powers.”

Not exactly. The look on Samara’s face must have said something else, though.

Asha gaped at her.

“You didn’t! You - you didn’t screw that meathead, right? Please tell me you didn’t… I like having someone strong who I can trust, especially at a time like this.”

Samara frowned. Is that really all I am to you now? Your muscle?

They had become more distant over time, and the bond between the two sisters had never been an expressive one, but Asha had always been there in some sense for Samara. The older sister had provided structure to her life, ensured Samara ate when they were poor, and gotten Samara her start on the journey toward becoming a paladin.

“No, that’s not it, sister,” Samara said after a moment. “In my thoughts, though, I break my vows every night. I dream of a man and his woman, a beastgirl with fox ears. I have—” She swallowed and felt her face grow hot—“I have touched myself, thinking of these vivid dream encounters. They have awakened something in me. I… I don’t think I belong in this Temple anymore, Asha. I’m unclean. The Goddess has not seen fit to punish me yet, but it’s only a matter of time before my prayers are insufficient. I have thought of confessing to Inquisitor Bram. I might be defrocked or at least told to go and do some penance. Perhaps if I could be released from my vows to go and live a normal life—”

“Pft!” Asha burst out laughing as Samara finished her confession.

Samara just stared at her older sister for a long moment, feeling small.

“I’m - I’m serious, Asha,” she said after a moment. “Please take this seriously.”

Her sister scowled back at her.

“Fine. Serious. Here is my serious answer. First, you have an overdeveloped sense of shame. Second, a normal life wouldn’t suit you. Do you know how hard life is for ordinary peasants in this country? I know you. Even just hearing you talk about these dreams, it’s pathetic. The first hint of adversity, and you fold. If you hadn’t been under my wing, little sister, you’d be a very well-trained whore by now, living a ‘normal life’ and not worrying about breaking paladin vows. Do you not think others before you have been tested? Speak no more to me about ‘normal.’ You know nothing about it. You’re not qualified to be normal. Do you know - you must have known, you weren’t so young - there were nights when I sold my body so that we could eat? That is normal in this world. A young girl whoring. What you do well at, little sister, is being my opposite. I’m the whore, and you’re the maiden. So pray harder, and take this.”

The High Priestess reached for a shelf near the door and pulled down a piece of silver jewelry, finely worked, with Astara’s conjoined hearts symbol.

“I already have a holy symbol, sister—”

“Not like this one. I am the High Priestess of our faith, Samara. I naturally have closer contact with the Goddess than even paladins and holy knights. This one has my personal blessing. If you sincerely pray, and wear this around your neck, it will ward off the demon in your dreams.”

Samara wondered for a moment if her sister was telling the truth or just trying to make her feel better.

But after a moment, she took it.

“Thank you, Asha,” she said, bowing her head. “Forgive me… for being weak.”

“You’re just human. I thought you had ice in your blood for a while. Just remember to be strong when I need you to be. Now that I know the Hero is not going into the Salt Waste, it is good that you will be there to represent Lady Astara. I also need you to do something for me.”

“You have only to ask.”

“Deliver a message to a priest named Hamnet.” She extended a closed hand to Samara, and the paladin quickly reached for it, before any exchange could potentially be seen by the guard. She took the slip of parchment and tucked it under her shirt, into her underclothes.

“What does the message say?” she asked.

“I want to be broken out of here, of course,” Asha said, shrugging. “I know you can’t do it, because you’re going with the Army and would be put in an awkward position. Plus, you wouldn’t be able to slip me out of Enh. But tell Hamnet to act on the message as soon as you’re out of easy riding distance of the city.”

“Asha, that reminds me of why General Caracalla permitted me to see you!” Samara exclaimed. “He seemed to have some idea you were having trouble coping here. He wanted me to tell you the people of Enh need you to help defend them in case our expedition fails.”

The High Priestess shrugged. “They need Lady Astara, but their leaders are ignoring her guidance. If you, personally, don’t manage to stop this fiendish necromancer, then Enh will fall to him sooner or later. I’ve foreseen it. What is prophesied by me is not something I can prevent myself. But I can ensure that I survive to lead the resistance to this evil. Even if the Great Temple falls, the Faith must live on. I must live.”

But I don’t have to survive, eh? You’re escaping but telling me to go ahead, because I’m expendable… That was an inescapable implication of Asha’s words. Samara knew the thoughts were heretical, treacherous, even egotistical. But she couldn’t avoid them.

An image came to her mind, then. A memory of Asha giving her the last of their bread when Samara was just nine years old.

That is a debt I still have to pay back.

“I’ll do what you ask, sister,” Samara said finally, quietly accepting her own probable death. “Good luck in your escape attempt. Go with Lady Astara.”

The sisters embraced for what both knew might be the last time.