Slave to the Empire:
Warrior 3
Toril flew from the shrouded form that held him. White hands gripped
the sides of her hood and pulled it back, revealing an unearthly beauty beneath.
Her skin was akin to the finest marble statue, flawless in appearance. Her lips
matched her eyes in the glowing shade of red in the dark cave. A pale pink
tongue reached out to lick her lips, revealing the sharp canines in her mouth.
He steeled himself against the woman shaped creature. A Vampire. The figure
rose slowly.
"Yes...you will do nicely indeed."
Toril dropped into a fighting stance. "You will have to earn your meal
damned one."
She laughed. "Damned?"
He frowned. "Are you not of the deathless? The undead?"
"Perhaps." The woman spoke. "You are of the Order of the Sun, are you
not?"
"You know I am."
"A mighty paladin of a small order." She mocked. "Their great
warrior."
"SILENCE!" Toril snarled. "You profane-"
"Nothing. Your order is nothing...just an excuse for rich sluts to get
a quickie."
Toril's mouth hung slack.
"A child...a child sent on a man's task."
Toril attacked.
It was a futile gesture, for the vampire countered his every attack,
often deflecting it so that he came against the hard rocks. She laughed as he
swung his arm to grapple with her. Toril grunted as she allowed the grapple to
succeed, then sucked in his breath sharply as she expertly pinned him to the
ground. A low growl escaped her throat as she forced his head back, exposing
his jugular. Toril closed his eyes and braced for the strike that never came.
He opened his eyes to see her shudder as she withdrew to a safe distance away
from him.
"That was very foolish."
"Of me? Or you?"
She smirked. "I can smell the blood in your veins." Her eyes narrowed.
"How is your faith?"
"My faith?"
"Do you still believe?"
"Yes."
"Do you?" She stroked her cheek with a long fingernail. "Do you
really?"
He frowned.
Her smile was akin to a well fed cat's. "Shall I tell you a tale?" Her
eyes flashed like miniature suns. "There was once a female sun elf of the
K'eloris Clan, Calaya was her name. She was all that her house made her, and
she was spoiled. She had everything, and wanted nothing. So one day she
encountered an old woman in the forest shire, who promised her heart's desire to
her in return for bringing others to the old ways." She cocked her head to the
side. "A return to the worship of the old gods."
Toril frowned.
"Astrathe, Gorligo, Killiaen, Verat'taa, and Sioban." The vampire
stood and looked to the open sky silhouetted in the mirror of the lake. "Five
gods and goddesses whom time had forgotten, that is, forgotten to all those who
did not live before the Founding. Of the five, it was the Goddess Astrathe who
called for the Breaking." She paused. "You know of what I speak."
"Yes."
"Your precious Goddess Sioban struck the first blow that broke the
chains that bound the Shadows from their prison. It was Sioban who slew the
Morning Lord and assumed his mantle, and it was Sioban who brought slavery back
to the Woodland Realm.
"Calaya brought the old ways back, and was rewarded with great power.
She had five children; each followed the Returned as they grew. Kurne
Dre'Kaluuss became the infamous Warlord of Palen; Dranus of the Silver Tongue
followed Verat'taa and became the favored thief and rogue of the Trickster
Goddess. Malak the Black delved into the dark arts of Gorligo, and emerged
changed and reborn and Makiri the Lich King, Lord of Iceholme. And
Dor'nea...you have met."
"The High Priestess of Sioban." Toril felt his guts twist. He could
not believe it, but it all sounded too true, despite his distrust of the undead
before him. "And you....you follow Killiaen."
She laughed. "Foolishness." Her eyes met his as she opened her vest to
reveal a pair of perfect breasts, between them was the mark of the Balancer, the
twin scales that judge all. Toril paled. None would dare wear the mark of the
Ultimate Judge unless one was truly of the Order.
"So the little one understands." She laces her leather vest closed.
"Killiaen has no follower in this world.
"Killiaen walks in this world."
Toril's mind was awash with the implication. Everything he had learned
about the Divine told him that the Gods and Goddesses couldn't physically
manifest in this world, but they could work through an Avatar, a mortal being
that could be possessed for a set purpose.
"Why are you telling me all this?"
"You have a task to perform do you not? A quest?"
"Yes."
"Let me guess...find a truly evil soul and redeem it?"
"How?"
"Standard get rid of a troublesome warrior quest."
"It is a noble task, one that would prove my worth and my faith."
"Ah...is that it? You needed to prove your worth?" She shook her head.
"I am well over a thousand years old and it never fails to surprise me that
young men of all species have the irrepressible urge to act foolish. The only
person that can judge your actions of being of worth is you. Even those on high
must judge their own actions."
Toril stared at her like she was insane. Here he was, a newly
christened Paladin of Sioban, and he was stuck in a cave getting ethics lessons
from a Vampire.
The Vampire paused and stared at him intently. "How intent are you on
completing your task?"
"It is my quest...it is a sacred obligation."
"There is perhaps one way to accomplish your goal...if you are willing."
"How do you know that my task is not to redeem you?"
She laughed.
"Use your senses boy. Am I evil?"
Toril closed his eyes and focused. There was no taint to her aura,
which confused him even more. How was it possible for a creature such as this
NOT to be evil? There was a hint of evil, no more than what was found in any
who were guided partially by self interest.
"I don't understand." He confessed.
"I was not turned into a vampire in the normal sense. Killer I may be,
but I became what I am by my own hand."
"Necromancer." He spoke.
"Indeed."
Necromancers were among the most feared of magick users. Many who
professed knowledge of the Death Arts were quite evil, but some maintained a
balance, and remained neutral in their studies. It was rumored in some circles
that a truly talented Necromancer could transcend even death.
"What is the task you have in mind?"
"Kill Killiaen's avatar and end her meddling in this world."
"How does this help me?"
"You will find in the course of your quest the answer to that question."
She rose slowly. "You serve a jealous Goddess. Killiaen will most assuredly
temp you into forsaking your vows."
"Who is her avatar?"
She smiled. "In due time." Her eyes were burning embers as she stared
at him. "Are you sure you are a Paladin?"
"You doubt?" Toril replied, standing.
"Every Paladin I have met in my existence took many years to become a
Paladin. How long have you been a Paladin?"
"Six weeks."
"And how long did it take you to train to become a Paladin?"
"A day."
She raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you are a Paladin?" She asked
again.
"Yes."
"Prove it." She challenged.
Toril shook his head. "It doesn't work like that."
"Work like what? Are you afraid that I am right? That you are nothing
more than a jumped up warrior with a few magick trinkets?"
"Damn you."
"You'll have to do better than that boy. I've been damned by better by
lesser men."
His eyes narrowed in focus. One of the simplest spells in his arsenal
was an illumination spell, which he chanted softly under his breath. In normal
circumstances the area around him would be bathed in soft white light, but the
effect was nothing. The only light was that of the illumination provided by the
hole above. He blinked. Was she right? His own thoughts drifted back to the
day he was invested, as it were, as a Paladin of Sioban. The High Priestess
herself performed the ritual, and he knelt before the statue of his goddess and
spoke the words as directed by her. A beam of light enveloped him and he felt
light and happy. For a briefest moment he felt that he understood. Afterward
he was presented with fine arms and armor, and tutored in their abilities and
history. With a solemn expression the High Priestess laid down her charge upon
him, to seek out and confront an evil soul, with the intent of redeeming said
soul. He never questioned once the words or the intentions of the High
Priestess. He only accepted and obeyed.
"You question yourself, that is good." She spoke. "Before you can
serve any god or goddess you must first know yourself, and be content with that
knowledge."
"And what of you?" Toril spoke bitterly. "What do you question?"
"Everything." She replied. "I must weigh all my options before acting,
and that act must be something I can live with. The Balancer would accept
nothing less."
Toril slumped to the rocky floor of the cavern. Was he living a lie?
His thoughts strayed to his mate, the scent of her skin, her laughing eyes, and
her generous smile. She was unlike any woman he has ever met or known with the
exception of his own mother, and being in the same room with her left him
feeling weak. He loved her. It was a simple statement, but one that was very
profound. He was in love with Clara, and would do anything for her.
"You are thinking of her, aren't you." The vampire spoke. "Your
thoughts are of the woman you love, although she isn't truly a woman."
"Yes." Toril whispered.
"An honest answer." She judged. "You would do anything for her, no
matter what her command or desire, is this not true?"
"It is."
"Good."
"I don't understand."
"THAT, is even better." She laughed. Toril frowned. "Understanding is
the hardest of ideas to grasp. Most people walk through life thinking they
understand, and that understanding, like wisdom, comes with age. Understanding
the why of a concept or idea is in reality rooted in pain. For in suffering,
there is clarity, and in clarity, truth. If you want to gain understanding, you
must pay the price for it."
Toril blinked.
"Come." She held out a hand.
He accepted her outstretched hand and did not resist as she pulled him
into a tight embrace. There was a wave of disorientation as magick enveloped
them both. The world around them seemed to disappear in a mist as they
teleported from the cavern. The mists cleared to reveal a large circular
chamber, the walls decorated with very tasteful, if not ancient, tapestries. A
pair of doors stood open at one end of the chamber, he noted each carved by
master crafters, and both depicted scenes of Dominance and Submission, one on
each door. In the center of the room was a simple bed, unmade, with the furs
partially lying on the floor beside it. She stepped away from the young sun elf
and looked at him.
"What? Did you think I sleep in crypt?" She strode across the room and
pushed on a wall. It rotated outward to reveal a simple closet, and the vampire
stripped off her clothing and pulled on a simple gown. Toril stared at her
perfect alabaster skin before turning away.
"You can look." She said. "I do not mind."
Toril hesitantly turned his head and saw her through her peripheral
vision. The robe was open down the front, exposing her bare sex. Her vagina
had a bluish tinge to it, but it looked very inviting to him. She approached
him and circled him slowly.
"Come, you must be hungry."
The halls were kept in pristine cleanliness. Torches lined the halls
that left no spot in shadow. Doors lined the walls in regular spaces, each one
closed and from what his limited magick sense could tell, warded from entry.
They followed several junctures to what appeared to be a main hall. It was a
large hall, with vaulted ceilings that supporting intricate iron chandeliers.
There was a sense of age about the hall, and he followed the vampire as she
walked between the rows of stone crafted tables and benches until she reached
the throne that dominated the room. There were a few others present in the
hall, mainly humans, but with smattering of dwarves and Halflings. All stood
when she entered the room and waited silently as she ascended the steps to the
throne and then sat regally upon it. A dwarf rapped a staff against the marble
floor of the hall.
"All pay homage to the Grand Duchess of the West, Lady Murelle deCalaise
duBranee."
Toril stood in silent shock.
Justice, he learned, had no mercy, no emotion, and no passion. Only the
cold, hard facts and equally cold consequences. Lady Murelle did not chain him,
restrain him, or inhibit him in any way. He had free run of the keep, with the
exception of the dungeons and her private chambers. Everyone in the Keep wore
collars, and there were no exceptions, except for him. His lack of a collar
made him a non entity in the Keep. Only on the orders of the Duchess would the
staff interact with him.
The justice he witnessed was something simple, and yet not simple. The
denizens of the Duchy of the West were a mixed lot, of both humans and humanoid
races. Lady Murelle ruled her Prefecture with an iron fist, neither showing
mercy nor remorse for her judgments, and did not favor any particular race over
the other. The case he was to witness was one of the diminutive lizard like
Kobolds and a rather grungy human. The Kobolds laid claim that the human had in
fact attacked and killed several of their tribe, which resided somewhat
peacefully along the marshland of the prefecture. The human countered with the
claim that several Kobolds had killed his daughter. Lady Murelle sat upon her
throne and listened intently to the arguments offered. She leaned forward to
examine both of them, and then closed her eyes. Her perfect lips parted in a
silently cast spell, and the shade of the human's daughter rose from the cold
stone floor. The human sputtered and stepped back into the Duchess's guards,
and was forcibly cast forward to face the apparition.
The assembled court listened to the tale of the wraith, and showed no
emotion towards the tale told by the sad spirit. The girl took her own life to
escape from a rather abusive father.
"Your own actions condemn you." Lady Murelle spoke. "By your own hand
and admission did you attack and kill several of Tiko's tribe without
provocation. Your punishment will be decided and carried out by those whom you
have wronged."
The human tried to flee, but the Duchess's guards held him firm before
handing him over to the small lizard folk. Toril watched with mixed emotions.
His first reaction was to save the human from what he had considered to be
inferior, if not evil, creatures. To find out that all races had lived in a
rough harmony was disturbing. The Duchess's chamberlain rapped his staff
against the floor three times and announced that this night's court is
dismissed. The assembled nobles all stood and bowed as one before filling out
in a silent line. It unnerved him.
"You are disturbed." She spoke, acknowledging him for the first time in
several days.
"Yes." He spoke. "It is difficult to accept."
"What? The fact that all races do have some things in common? Even the
most darkest of races have a kind of rough family. I do not know of the Nether
races, nor of Celestial, but I know that all races that occupy this world share
this one simple fact. Law takes no sides, and governs all equally."
"Law interpreted by you."
She raised an eyebrow. "Even one such as I am bound by the law." She
rose from her throne and stepped down from the dais. "I too, was young once."
She laughed.
"I admit it was many ages ago, but you too would have judged me harshly.
I was a thief, a murderer, a hired killer when the price was right. I reveled
in my hate and darkness."
"How did you change?"
"The first Empress." She pulled the pins from her hair and shook out
the strands until they fell naturally down her back. "I was hired to kill her.
However, she defeated me easily and offered me a way out, a second chance as it
were. I spent ten years as her slave before I learned enough to earn my
freedom. It was then I was introduced to a Priestess of the Balancer, she took
me in and set me on the path I now trod."
"What happens now?"
"Now?" She glanced over a shoulder at him. "Patience."
Toril frowned, obviously confused. Nothing seemed to make sense. His
train of thought was interrupted by the appearance of a female sun elf, a half
sun elf to be precise. The woman only gave him a cursory glance before
approaching the Duchess. The newcomer was dressed in a loose brown robe belted
at the waist. Lady Murelle crossed over to the half-elf and spoke with her in
low tones. Toril remained fixed to his position as the half-elf kissed the
vampire and touch her face in the manner of a lover. There was tenderness in
the vampire's face as she returned the touch.
"Toril." Lady Murelle spoke. "You are dismissed. Return to your
chambers."
Toril's last glance was that of the Duchess leaning forward to take the
half-elf's breast into her mouth.
Toril sat in the small room set aside for his use. It was completely
bare with the exception of a small bed along one side of the wall, with an even
smaller wardrobe opposite the bed. Finishing out the furnishings was a desk and
chair set opposite the door. He eschewed the chair to sit on the floor in the
center of the room and let his mind drift. What was the correct path for him to
follow? It nagged at him, worried his thoughts. He did love Clara despite all
that had been said of the High Priestess and the Followers of Sioban, and it was
that small flame in his heart that told him all that he had learned could not be
all evil. He rose slowly to his feet and exited the room, his feet following
the well worn path to that of chambers of the Lady Murelle. He knocked
respectfully on her chamber door, and waited. The door opened silently moments
later to admit him entrance into her inner sanctum. She lay on her bed, her
eyes but embers in the dim light as she observed him as he approached. He knelt
with head bowed before the foot of her bed.
"I do not know or understand much of what you have said my Lady, but I
await your geas."
