“I haven’t.” Venviel moved her leg to make sure the rapier and dagger were still attached to her leather trousers. “I’ll have revenge.”
“About that…” Furore smirked. “It’s Hope they’ve sent after you. You remember, right? You had a crush on her when she worked—“
“I didn’t!” Venviel raised her voice and attracted more attention than she’d intended. The patrons stared at her for a second or two before they resumed drinking.
“I didn’t have a crush on Hope,” Venviel whispered. “I swore revenge on her after my parents died.”
“It’s a shame what happened.” Furore nodded. “But you would definitely have jumped her bones if given the chance.”
“No, Furore, I would’ve continued to treat her like—“
“You would have jumped her bones if you’d earned your mask back then.” Furore grinned. “Alas, it seems you became brave too late.”
Venviel squeezed the glass in her hand. “Did you forget why I’m doing this?”
“Sadly, you’ll never have a second chance to save your mother or father, but you’ll have a second chance to bone Hope. I’d suggest you take it before she dies too.”
“Wow, I… Wow.”
Venviel hadn’t known if she’d believed in love when she’d been younger, and now that she’d been given irrefutable proof that the goddess existed, she would have liked to have literally anyone else as a confidant. The king of Algora. A pack of rabid wolves. Anyone. Hope, included, if only because it would have given her a chance to stab the maid in the back.
“Why did they send Hope, in particular?” Venviel took another sip of her wine.
“She’s an inquisitor. She defends the temple from people like you.”
“Hope? Really? The shy maid has become an inquisitor?”
“Everyone changes, Venviel.” Furore rose from the table and brushed Venviel’s arm with her long nails. “Who knows? She might jump your bones when she discovers you’re alive. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“No.”
“I would.” Furore chuckled, headed downstairs, and disappeared in the crowd.
Venviel only wanted answers. No more. Hope may not have betrayed them on purpose, so it might best to give her the benefit of the doubt. She might glean more information that way. Maybe even learn who’d given the order to burn their mansion to the ground.
Obviously, Hope would not have risen to the rank of inquisitor if she’d failed with whatever task the temple had assigned her regarding Thalia and Corym. Venviel wouldn’t forgive the traitor, or forget her sins, and she’d never entertain any other feeling for Hope than resentment, but she could use her. Furore could tell every sick joke she could think of, it would change nothing. Venviel would make Hope repent.
Broker
The magical azure lights of the dockside lamps bathed the buildings in soft, faint hues. Waves rolled against the wharf, while the wind tore at her coat and carried the salty ocean air across Lho Allanar.
Hope walked in the middle of the street and like usual most citizens moved out of her path. Only the drunks outside of boisterous taverns were stupid enough to shout insults at her, and then they slurred their words to the point where she could barely make sense of them.
She hadn’t come to the docks to fight drunks though. She could outsmart those any day of the week. No, she’d come to the docks to acquire information.
The inhabitants of the slums, and less fortunate quarters of Lho Allanar, would not talk to her. They would not give up their hero to a known member of the temple. If she wanted information, she had to pay someone unscrupulous enough to sell their mother to a slaver.
Hope made sure no one followed her before she walked up to a seedy dive and slipped into the alley between it and a rundown warehouse. She’d made contacts during her life in Lho Allanar. Not the kind of contacts she’d call friends, or trust, but the kind she believed would prove useful in service to the temple. She viewed herself as a diplomat of sorts. Since the high priestess couldn’t seek out fences or information brokers, she had to do it.
Hope whistled a tune outside of an open window, continued further into the shadows, trudged through mud and garbage, and stopped outside of a door in the back. She knew it was locked without trying the rusty handle. She waited for someone to repeat the tune she’d whistled.
A minute or so passed in silence while she stood in the alley and gripped the mace in her belt. She fidgeted, grew nervous. She wouldn’t receive backup. If she got stabbed and killed in a back alley of the city, the high priestess would pretend like she’d had no idea why one of her inquisitors had skulked around like a common thief.
Eventually, someone did repeat the familiar tune, but it didn’t come from the window she’d passed. It came from somewhere above, like the second floor or the rooftops. The door still didn’t open.
Hope raised her gaze, noticed movement on top of the tavern, but didn’t get a chance to call out to the person before someone hit her over the head.
She hissed in pain and unsheathed her mace. Even though the first blow had hurt more than it had affected her ability to fight back, the second brought her to her knees.
“Thickheaded.”
“She gotta be with those horns. How else will she fight other goats?”
“Shut up, smartass.”
She recognized the voice of one of the men as the information broker she’d planned to ask for help. He’d called her a goat. Oddly, she found it worse than monster. It degraded and transformed her into a mindless animal.
They struck her a third time, before she could rise to her feet, and knocked her out cold.
Hope dreamt of fluffy white clouds and sheep which leapt over meadows. Outside of the dreams, outside of the void, her body moved without her input. She didn’t get to decide where to go or how to get there.
Someone carried her, and her limbs didn’t react when she fought to regain control of them. She tried to scream but only created a muffled noise that died on the rag someone had shoved in her mouth.
The sheep and fluffy clouds bounced in front of her in distant lands, but it became harder to tell them apart. Which was a sheep? Which was a cloud? Did it matter? Wouldn’t everyone evolve into clouds one day?
Someone had kidnapped her. She ought to be furious with herself for seeking out such a treacherous fool, but she found it difficult to overlook the cloud that got in her face and licked her. Its bark sounded like metal against metal.
Swords clashed.
Hope screamed into the rag in her mouth, forced her eyes open. A splitting headache warned her that she best return to the clouds, and the sheep, if she wanted to avoid a painful death, but she ignored it.
She found herself bound and gagged on the cold ground next to a boat. Her kidnapper must have planned to bring her far away, but someone had interrupted their plan. She heard the clinging of metal reverberate through the night air when blades connected. Then a man groaned in anger, fled the scene with heavy steps, and everything went silent for a while.
“Your friend decided you’d fetch a higher price than you’d pay,” a woman said. “Truthfully, you should’ve been cautious, inquisitor. No one tolerates a dog sent by a tyrant. Not long.”
Hope would have retorted, but her saviour only rolled her around. She did not remove her gag or untie her hands.
The woman wore a masquerade mask, which concealed the upper half of her face, and a plain, white shirt along with brown pants that gave away how she must be a sailor, if she hadn’t stolen the outfit.
“A little bird told me you were sent to find Orchid Brave?” The woman bent next to her, smiled under the mask, and pointed the tip of a rapier against Hope’s throat. “Peculiar then, that I should find you first. Not very difficult, I assure you, but it does bring about a dilemma. Should I slit your throat and roll you into the ocean, or should I set you free?”
Hope did not respond. Partly because she couldn’t with the gag, and partly because she didn’t
want to beg for her life. If this vigilante intended to get rid of her, she’d wasted an opportune movement when she’d saved Hope from her kidnappers. She could have let them have her.
“You…” Orchid Brave stared into Hope’s eyes, lowered her rapier, raised a hand to her face, and slid the gag down slowly. “There.”
“Keerla, High Priestess of the temple, ordered me to—“
“Shush.” Orchid Brave stuffed the gag back between her lips. “I don’t want to hear about her, unless you bring me news of her death. So, inquisitor, how do you want it? Should I remove the gag?”
Hope nodded. She wouldn’t get anywhere with this woman if she couldn’t talk. An inquisitor’s skillset relied upon outsmarting their targets, and it was difficult to do when she couldn’t speak or move.
To her disbelief, the vigilante stared into her eyes like she’d fallen into a tranquil state against her will and caressed her cheek. Hope had to squirm in her restraints to snap Orchid Brave out of her self-inflicted hypnosis.
“You’re mesmerizing…” She removed Hope’s gag and threw it in the ocean.
Hope frowned and wondered if she still had her mace or not. “Flattery will get you nowhere. You’re a criminal, and I’m…”
“An inquisitor?”
“A monster.”
“I would never call you a monster.” Orchid Brave smirked. “A traitor, backstabber, and coward though. Yes, those would fit. But you wouldn’t be a monster without the temple. You’d be mesmerizing. Stunning.”
“I…” Hope assumed the woman lied, or toyed with her, but she detected no dishonesty in her words. Only stark sincerity. What kind of elf found someone like her attractive?
“Let’s go.” Orchid Brave rolled Hope into the boat, jumped after her, and grabbed the oars. She didn’t bother untying her wrists or legs.
Through The City
Venviel rowed westward along the docks until they reached the canal inlet which would take them, through the wet garden, to her hideout. The palace ruins towered on rocky cliffs above. A fallen giant which still hadn’t been restored to its former glory, despite how five-hundred years had elapsed since Lho Allanar’s resurrection.
Furore may be a fiend, a trickster, but she had provided Venviel with a new home by showing her the ancient tunnels under the palace. The goddess had forced Venviel to promise she wouldn’t explore them on her own though, since apparently, they originated deep below the earth, and no one knew what dwelt there. Except maybe Fayeth, but the queen of peace had decided to sail the world with her pet, so she wasn’t around.
Venviel had thought herself ready to meet Hope again, after five years, but she’d been mistaken. While she’d practiced her swordsmanship and rebelled against the temple from behind a mask, Hope had grown taller, older, and undeniably more attractive.
The once shy maid glared at Venviel in a way that made her weak and small. She could see why the high priestess had chosen Hope as an inquisitor. Hope’s eyes still mesmerized her, whenever she stared into their depths, but now the maid didn’t grow flustered. Hope just kept staring, without saying a word, without complaining. She bored into Venviel’s soul and threatened to consume her mind.
“You won’t untie me?”
“I like watching someone like you squirm,” Venviel said and rowed into the canal. Nearby, around a corner, she could hear the fountains of the wet garden, but the streets lay quiet.
“Someone like me?”
“A mindless servant of the goddess.” Venviel realized she might be accused of being the same, but then, few knew the truth about Furore. Everyone thought the goddess of love looked like the luscious elf statues.
“A monster…” Hope struggled with the ropes around her wrists until she almost tumbled out of the boat.
Venviel quickly grabbed her by the coat to keep her inside. “Not a monster. An inquisitor.”
“So a monster.”
“Why are you this hard on yourself, Hope?” Venviel asked, pulled the inquisitor into a better position, and tore her gaze away before she could become spellbound again.
“None of your business.”
Venviel focused on rowing. The boat floated into the wet garden, where trimmed trees, rare black roses, orchids, and ice lilies had been placed on elevated platforms in the middle. Water flowed constantly along the paths and curves of spiraling fountains, rained down in front of archways under bridges.
The wet garden served as a crossing where the canal split into four different sections, but it wouldn’t take anyone far into the city. It had been built as a pastime for royals, centuries ago. These days it was an area of relaxation, a park, for Lho Allanar’s modern inhabitants. They didn’t have kings or queens.
Venviel pushed the boat around the decorative platforms with the oars, yet no matter what she did, the water of the archways would drench them. Whoever had designed the wet garden hadn’t intended for anyone to row through it, even though they’d made it wide enough.
“I trust you don’t mind a little water,” Venviel said, placed an oar against the side of a platform with a young birch on it, and pushed with all her might. The boat rushed into the darkness under a bridge. Water fell on her head, dripped into the boat, and landed on Hope’s coat with quiet thuds.
“Where are you taking me?”
“To a secret place.” Venviel considered removing her mask in the darkness and springing her secret on Hope, but no, she wanted to do it at the right time, the right moment. She shouldn’t do it because of impulse.
“Do you plan to kill me?”
“I…” Venviel hadn’t thought that far ahead, but it might prove necessary. Hope would learn where to find her, if Venviel brought her to her hideout, and she couldn’t trust the inquisitor to keep a secret. She couldn’t trust Hope to do anything except betray her, but maybe she could use that understanding against the temple.
“You do, don’t you?”
“No, I would never…” She trailed off.
More water fell on her head as the boat emerged on the other side of the bridge, and she rowed toward an unseen entrance. If she allowed the boat to float by the hidden tunnel, Hope would never discover where she’d hid the last five years. The inquisitor would continue to think she’d died with her parents.
Venviel might accomplish more if she didn’t reveal her true identity to anyone, yet she couldn’t not do it. She wanted revenge on Hope as much as she wanted revenge on the rest of the theocracy. And she wouldn’t get revenge if Hope never saw her face.
She rowed along the wall of the canal, listened for anyone which might hear them from the street, and pushed a certain stone deeper into its place until it clicked. Soundlessly, part of the wall rose out of the water and bared lit torches inside of a tunnel.
“You’re going to have to kill me to keep this secret.”
“I’ve got a couple of books,” Venviel said it to change the subject, yet the look she received from the inquisitor took her by surprise. She’d expected a lot from the traitor, but not grief.
“Who told you my name? You called me Hope earlier. It’s not a name most people would know, unless…” Hope looked into the water. “They knew me, personally. “
“Anyone could have told me your name.” Venviel brought the boat into the tunnel, pushed another stone on her right, and watched the wall sink into the canal again.
“No, it’s—“
“Anyone could have told me your name is Hope! Lho Allanar is massive. Thousands must know you.”
“Reminds me of a book I read,” Hope said while the city disappeared behind the sinking wall and left them alone in wavering torch light. “About a woman who becomes a vigilante to impress their lover. You’re not bringing me here to impress me, are you, Orchid Brave?”
“No.”
“Can we still be lovers though?”
Despite her lust for revenge, Venviel blushed.
Rendezvous
The second Hope made Orchid Brave blush she realized she could outsmart h
er, yet if the woman under the mask was who she suspected, she didn’t think she’d like to. She wanted to confirm her identity, and might have asked under other circumstances, but her brain repeated the moment when Venviel had called her mesmerizing. Over and over.
Every social interaction of her life stood out in great contrast to that single moment with Venviel on the docks, less than an hour ago. What had happened to the elf since the day they’d walked in her family’s garden? Why had she not tried to find Hope earlier?
Five years had passed, and now, when she sat tied in a boat, Hope couldn’t help but to watch the woman under the mask with budding desire. She shouldn’t want anyone. She’d subdued her sexuality better than other disciples, and it had set her on the path to becoming an inquisitor. Priestesses of the goddess of love couldn’t deny their hearts.
Why did Keerla want Orchid Brave captured? Did the high priestess know her identity? Did she also suspect the threat to the temple was Venviel Amicier? Keerla could have lied to Hope. It wouldn’t be the first time.
“We’re here,” Venviel said, climbed out of the boat onto a wooden ledge, and offered Hope a hand.
“You’ve not untied me yet,” Hope said. “Did you forget, or do you find my helplessness charming? Are you a deviant?”
“I’m not a deviant!” Venviel shouted, her voice echoed throughout the tunnels.
“How am I supposed to take your hand if you haven’t untied me then?”
“I can untie you…” Venviel reached for the ropes, yet hesitated when Hope turned around to make it easier on her.
“What are you waiting for?”
“I don’t trust you,” Venviel whispered, ran her fingers along Hope’s wrists, and waited.
She couldn’t remember if they’d touched in the past, when she’d volunteered as a maid. If they had, her skin hadn’t surged with such anticipation.
Never Enough Page 4