by Mike Truk
“I just slept with the queen of the Morathi and am planning to go wrestle with a demon. For once I’m just really, really excited to cuddle,” I said. “So no worries there.”
“Hmm,” said Brielle, and pulled her tunic over her head. Her breasts bounced as they pulled free of her shirt, and I couldn’t help but stare at her tanned cleavage with its constellation of dark freckles.
“On the other hand,” I began.
She threw her tunic at me. “Incorrigible.”
Imogen laughed under her breath. “How strange our dynamic. Never would I have dreamed that I’d love a man and not only be willing to share him with four - perhaps five? - others. Nor that I could come to love those women as sisters in turn.”
“If that’s true,” said Brielle, rising to her feet so she could shimmy out of her crimson leather pants, “then you should be willing to bathe with us.”
Imogen froze.
“Come on,” said Brielle. “After all we’ve been through, do you honestly think I’ll judge you for carrying Harmiel?”
“I - I don’t know.” Imogen looked down.
“Well, I won’t. I’ve honestly lost track of how many times we’ve saved each other’s lives - and yes, I’ll admit it, I care for you as a sister as well.”
Imogen’s gaze flickered up, and a mischievous smile crossed her lips. “I’ve heard conflicting messages on that score.”
Brielle snorted in exasperation. “I’m surrounded by fools. I made my peace with Anastasia, and now my love for her is… healed. So enough with the protesting. Join us in the pool.”
Imogen glanced at me uncertainly.
“I agree,” I said. “It’s high time we got over it. I think only good things will come of this.”
“I… very well. Excuse me. I’ll… I’ll be right back.” Imogen stepped out of the room.
“Too far?” asked Brielle, looking sidelong at me. “You think we should have let her decide on her own when the time was right?”
“Nah,” I said, standing so I could shuck my clothing as well. “I don’t think she’d ever have made that jump. You did a good thing.”
“Well, don’t sound so surprised. As royalty, my every act is by definition ‘good.’” With a smirk, she pulled her bra off, stepped out of her panties, then leaped into the pool feet first.
I laughed, got naked as well, and jumped in after her. And holy fuck, the water was exquisite. The heat soaked almost immediately into my sore muscles; a moment later, I floated to the surface and onto my back. Drifting to the pool’s edge, I rested, arms outstretched along its tiled lip.
Brielle floated in the center, face-up, and so didn’t react immediately when Imogen appeared in the alcove, a towel wrapped modestly around her torso.
For all the towel covered, far more was on display - her shoulders, arms, and legs from mid-thigh down.
And everywhere Harmiel squirmed, slowly pouring itself across her body like putrid molasses.
I knew from intimate experience that to the touch, Imogen’s skin felt natural; with one’s eyes closed, you’d never know she was so covered. But the sight was challenging. The hues were of rotting blues and browns, ghastly greens and toxic yellows, mostly without form but looking like some kind of protoplasmic ooze. Eyes were depicted in the depths of the black and purple whorls, dark spaces that could have been mouths, a surrealistic swirl of organic shapes and colors that made me think of amoebas from some Lovecraftian hell.
Brielle caught sight of my face, rose to tread water, and gazed upon her.
Imogen froze, tensing, looking for all the world like a deer startled at dawn, ready to flee at a moment’s notice.
“So that’s Harmiel.” Brielle’s voice was solemn.
“It is,” said Imogen, holding her towel tightly about her chest.
“Somehow I thought it was going to be worse,” said Brielle, tone dismissive as she pushed onto her back again. “I’ve been imagining it to be mostly dicks.”
“Mostly dicks,” said Imogen, tone blank with disbelief.
“You know, like the kind children draw. To be honest, I’m relieved it’s just your run-of-the-mill evil imagery.”
Imogen stared blankly at her and laughed, and at that moment I realized Brielle’s brilliance.
“Well, it’s not ‘just dicks,’” Imogen said, moving to the pool’s edge and sitting down so her legs slipped into the water. “I’m glad to say.”
“Me too. Would make it so much harder to take you seriously.” Brielle raised her head just enough to look at her. “But get in the water already.”
Imogen glanced at me, and I gave her an encouraging nod. Tentatively, she opened her towel, then slipped into the water as quickly as a fish to duck completely under the surface.
“Ah!” she emerged with a gasp. “That is… indescribable.”
“Right?” I grinned at her.
Imogen cocked her head to one side as she undid one braid, running her fingers through her interwoven tresses before working on the other. She then ducked back down into the pool, and I saw her massaging her scalp fiercely before she arose once more.
“By the Source, I never want to leave.” She swam over to me, turning at the last to press her back against the pool’s edge.
“How have you been bathing all this time?” asked Brielle, tone one of idle curiosity.
“Carefully. Cups of cold water when I can get a moment alone.”
“Cups of cold water.” Brielle shook her head in wonder. “Barbaric.”
Imogen shrugged. “We bathed with cold water in the academy. I’m used to it.”
“Then this must seem positively decadent,” said Brielle with a grin.
“You’ve no idea.” Imogen rested the back of her head on the pool’s edge, allowing her body to float up. Harmiel painted her dark, her figure looking like a streak of pollution in the water, but my love for Imogen made that irrelevant. I found her hand in the water and squeezed it.
For a while we remained thus, simply enjoying the heat and each other’s company, the only sound that of the occasional splash or sigh.
I closed my eyes, drifting in the heat, but found myself unable to relax. Images kept returning to me, images of horror - Karios, burning; Valeria losing her hands; Neveah floating in her sanctum, pierced by Morghothilim.
Finally, I gave up. “I’m going to get some sleep.”
“Sounds good,” said Brielle, who’d been washing out her crimson hair with an herbal shampoo she’d discovered. “I’ll rinse and join you.”
“As will I,” said Imogen. “Though I’m tempted to try and find a way to fall asleep in this pool.”
“Not a good idea,” I said, then pulled myself out, water cascading down my body. “Come.”
Imogen took my hand, and I hauled her out easily. She immediately stepped over to her fallen towel and wrapped it around her, casting a worried glance at Brielle.
The princess ignored her with sublime assurance, humming under her breath as she washed her hair.
Together Imogen and I padded into the large bedroom, detouring only so I could snag Shard. The sheets were fresh, and I couldn’t help but feel guilt over taking advantage of the labor of those enslaved by the Morathi. One more criminal act of inhumanity for which they would pay.
That pondering led me to think of Alusz. Could she be trusted? My instincts told me yes, but it wasn’t too hard to think of Rosanna back in Ghogiel, the Hexen witch who’d beguiled and captured me.
I pulled on a fresh pair of drawstring pants and sat on the edge of the bed to towel my hair dry.
“You look unhappy,” said Imogen, coming up behind me and leaning on my back, her breasts firm against my skin, chin on my shoulder.
“I am. The farther we travel, the more the horrors pile up. I’m at the point where I can’t even bring myself to trust a young woman who seems as much a victim as I am.”
“With good reason,” said Imogen, fingertips caressing the skin of my lower back. “She is the queen of the
Morathi. I think some skepticism is warranted.”
“I know.” I dropped the towel into my lap and stared glumly at it. “I just can’t wait to return to a world where I don’t have to doubt every single person I meet.”
“One day,” said Imogen softly. “If the Source wills it.”
“Yeah.”
“Come on,” she said, pulling me down onto the mattress. “This moment may not come again for a long time. Let’s enjoy it.”
She nestled her head on my shoulder, molding her slight frame to my own, and sighing contentedly.
“There is so much horror,” she said, voice soft, tracing spirals on my chest with a finger. “And yet, like sparks rising into the night, there are moments of beauty, of grace, even now.”
I ran my fingers through her damp hair, listening, loving the sensation of having her with me.
“Moments of joy. Made all the more profound and precious for being so rare. We cannot give the darkness our whole attention. We must focus on these small moments, because in the end, they are what matter most.”
“Matter most?” I asked.
“Yes.” Her voice was soft, contemplative. “The bigger, grander goals seem to be all that matters, but that all lies in the future, and there are no guarantees that we will accomplish them. If we do, fantastic. But if we don’t? If we fail? Then these moments of grace will have been even more precious.”
“We will succeed,” I said.
“Perhaps. But I find peace by not finding my strength in that hope. I’m learning instead to find meaning in these small moments. Of course, I hope we succeed. But if we don’t, then these small moments - like Brielle accepting all of me - they will have made the journey worthwhile, a blessing in and of itself.”
I frowned, staring at the far wall. I thought back on our journey, and the memories that arose moments of horror, cruelty, abuse, and pain.
But there was an obverse side to that. Moments of joy, laughter, tenderness, and vulnerability, rewarded with ever greater love.
I thought of the man I’d been when I’d first picked up Shard. Afraid, doubtful, second-guessing myself at every turn, not believing I deserved such love, such companions, such importance.
It wasn’t the pain that had made me a stronger man. It was the love I’d experienced along the way, the bonds I’d forged. Those relationships had given me the courage to attempt what I would have considered impossible before - to not only attempt but succeed.
“Strange,” I said. “I always thought having companions was a way to directly strengthen me. Like, increase my ability to cast magic, become stronger, to bolster my will. Remember how my scores have been going up?”
“Mmhmm,” murmured Imogen.
“But now I realize those numbers, that direct influence, is secondary. You know? The real benefit has been having you guys with me, loving you and being loved. How many times has the difference between success and failure come down to that faith in each other? That love?”
“It’s our greatest weapon,” said Imogen softly. “The sole weapon that Lilith can never claim in her arsenal.”
“Yeah.” The truth of it hit me all over again. “Pelleas was this incredible guy, right? The greatest warrior, greatest mage, all that stuff. And he still failed.”
“Perhaps he was too much of an egoist,” said Imogen. “Perhaps, for all his strength, he was ultimately brittle for not loving as purely and deeply as he should have.”
“Strength. It’s like a trap.” I fumbled my way toward the truth. “I saw that in Valeria’s trial. How she believed - believes still, maybe - that strength, the willingness to never concede defeat - is the greatest weapon.”
“Hmm,” murmured Imogen.
“But maybe what she thinks of as strength is really something else. A willingness to use violence. To fight at any cost. Because Neveah is probably the strongest person I know, but her strength isn’t just from her ability to deal violence.”
“It’s her will,” said Imogen.
“Right. And she never concedes, but it’s different from Valeria. Valeria… she doesn’t understand this conflict in any other way but violence. Fighting. The ability to kill. Whereas Neveah… her strength, her will, comes from her integrity. Do you see what I mean?”
“Hmm,” said Imogen again. “Kind of.”
“It’s like… Valeria’s sense of self-worth comes from her ability to fight. If she can’t fight, she loses heart. But Neveah’s strength comes from her sense of self. Even when she was trapped in Taniel’s dungeon and utterly defeated, she still was strong. Her ability to fight comes from her sense of self-worth.”
“I can see that,” said Imogen. “Yes.”
“And we have to show that to Valeria,” I said. “Because without her hands, she’s going to be in her own version of Neveah’s dungeon. Unable to fight. Where Neveah held on, Valeria will…” I couldn’t bring myself to say it.
“Break,” said Imogen softly.
“Yeah. I hoped she’d learned that from her manifold trial, but I’m not sure she did. She had enough faith in me to listen, to do the right thing, but since then, I think that faith has slipped some.”
“Valeria?” asked Brielle, stepping into the room, head cocked to one side as she dried her hair. “I thought she was doing better in Aegeria.”
“She was,” I said, ignoring Imogen’s flinch, knowing she was fighting the urge to get under the covers. “But it was touch and go. Each time Khalistria swatted aside her crossbow bolts, I knew how much it had to gall her. And to wake up without her hands?”
“Not good,” agreed Brielle. “But what can you do? That is her path to walk.”
“I have to help her,” I said. “I mean, what happens to us if we lose her?”
Imogen sat up. “Lose her?”
“Yeah.” I slid an arm behind my head. “If she kills herself, or leaves.”
“I’m not sure,” said Imogen. “But surely it will result in our being weakened. We’ll lose the abilities we gained when you bonded with Neveah. Our ability to regenerate our magic so quickly. But more than that, you will lose her strength, the physical influence she’s had on your body. Your ability to fight will no doubt be diminished.”
“Not to mention the damage it will do to our group emotionally,” said Brielle. “Valeria hasn’t always been the greatest joy to have around, but I can’t imagine proceeding without her. If she leaves? It would be a crushing blow to our morale, our spirit.”
“Then we have to find a way to help her when she wakes up. Have to do everything we can to help her regain her hands.”
“So you want to stay here till she does?” asked Brielle, setting her towel aside.
“I think we have to.” My stomach tightened at the prospect, my heart pounding with slow, heavy regularity. “I just can’t imagine moving on without Valeria healed. I know she’ll reach the understanding she needs one day to deal with that kind of loss, but right now? I just… I can’t risk losing her.”
“Maybe this is what she needs,” said Imogen tentatively. “To hit rock bottom before she can recover and heal.”
“I mean, maybe,” I said. “But there won’t be time for her to heal her spirit while crossing these realms, right? Especially if we’re forced into a crazy sprint. Can you imagine what that would do to her psyche, to follow along from behind, unable to do anything but raise a ward and give us tactical advice?”
“Not good,” said Brielle.
“No. We have to heal her hands. Which means asking Morgana to keep her asleep till I get back from helping Neveah.”
“What a dance card,” said Brielle, stepping over to the bed, completely at ease in her nudity. She pulled up the corner of the sheet and slid under. “Ah. As long as I live, I will never discount the basic joys of sleeping in a clean bed.”
“Speaking of which,” said Imogen, relaxing her head on my shoulder once more, “there are only a few hours till dusk. You need to rest.”
“Yeah, right.” I stared up at the c
eiling. “I just…”
“Enough,” said Imogen, pressing her finger to my lips. “There is only so much you can do. And right now, the best thing for you - for us all - is to sleep.”
I nodded. We lay still, and soon the breathing of both women changed, growing deeper and slower.
But for a long time, I simply lay there, pondering, puzzling, trying to figure out how I could help Valeria. How I could heal the weakness in her core, that erroneous attribution of self-worth to her ability to fight.
But nothing came to me, and eventually, I fell asleep as well.
* * *
I was awoken by a touch on my shoulder.
Immediately, my hand shot to where I’d propped Shard by the headboard, only to find my wrist gripped by slender but incredibly strong fingers.
“Noah,” said a familiar voice. “Peace.”
“Neveah?” I blinked as I sat up, Imogen stirring to wakefulness beside me.
“Who else?” She stepped back, releasing me, and in the gloom, I could barely make her out. It was as if the shadows were drinking her in.
A puff of fire arose from Brielle’s hand; warm tones of red and orange washed over the room, illuminating Neveah where she stood. Her eyes gleamed in the firelight, large and almost fever bright, and her face had turned gaunt.
“By the Source, haven’t you been eating?” asked Brielle, rising to her feet and taking up a robe.
“Not as much as I should.” Neveah grimaced. “The Morathi are dangerously alert. Their Hexenmagic has made evading their notice… difficult.”
“Then let’s eat,” I said, climbing out of the bed. “Unless you think I could get a hug first?”
“A hug?” Neveah repeated the words as if they were the most enigmatic things she’d ever heard. “I suppose so.”
“I’ll take what I can get,” I said, and moved in to embrace her. She stood stiffly within my arms for a moment, then relented and hugged me back. Perfunctory, sure, but coming from Neveah, I’d settle for it.
“The portal is open,” she said when I stepped back. “How long do we have before it closes?”
“It is? Shit!” I grabbed a tunic, yanked it on, then sat to tug on my boots. “Who knows? A minute? Five? This is a queen we’re dealing with. You’ve seen how difficult royalty can be to get along with.”