He didn’t ask her how she knew that. It was clear her magic was growing far stronger. Guyon drew his sword, though the gesture was mostly symbolic. He doubted this was a battle that would be won by strength of arms.
They continued walking until they neared the first wall. So far, they hadn’t encountered any living thing, apart from the pigs that still wandered in the fields. But now, as they approached the first gate, they spied someone sitting next to it. The gate itself was open, and Guyon could hear some kind of revelry coming from inside, though no one exited the gate.
Now that they were closer, Guyon could readily make out what made the wall so beautiful, it was covered in vines with flowers blooming all over. The flowers were of a variety of colors, and they even seemed coordinated, blending from one color to another down the length of the wall.
The figure at the door made no sudden movements, only lifted his head to see the pair of them approach. By all appearances, he was a man after Guyon’s own heart. His face and robes were clean and well cared for, and he carried a staff of exquisite workmanship. He had the look of someone with a degree of temperance and self-mastery, the qualities that Guyon so longed to see in himself. Odd to see such qualities in a man in Acrasia’s domain.
A smile graced the man’s lips, and he rose to his feet and bowed. “Welcome to the Bower of Bliss,” he said, with not a hint of concern or curiosity to see the two of them approach. “May I offer you some refreshment from your long journey?” He sidestepped just enough so that they saw a pitcher of wine behind him, and two lavishly decorated cups.
Una and Guyon glanced at each other. This had to be a trap, and both of them knew it.
“Thank you, but no,” said Guyon. “We would like to see Acrasia.”
“Don’t we all, and she will soon come to visit us,” said the man, smiling and not missing a beat. “If you stay here and wait, she will come to you.”
Something caught the corner of Guyon’s vision, a faint light emanating from runes on the man’s staff. It pulsed, and it almost seemed as though the light of Guyon’s amulet pulsed with it. Were they somehow communicating?
No, not communicating exactly. As Guyon watched, he noticed a slight delay in the reaction from his amulet, like it was responding to the light of the staff, rather than syncing with it. Perhaps the staff was magical, and the amulet was protecting him against it.
He glanced at Una for confirmation, and she nodded. Thankfully, she still managed to remain composed, despite not wearing the amulet. If the magic of this man was affecting her, she was not showing it.
He turned back to the man and put on a false smile. “I think we will take you up on your offer. Some refreshment sounds lovely.”
The man’s smile widened. “I knew you would see it that way.” He reached his free hand out to pick up the pitcher of wine and filled the two glasses. Then he handed one each to Guyon and Una. Guyon calmly accepted the glass, as did Una, though she was eyeing Guyon with a question in her eyes. She knew him better than to think that he had been taken in. She was waiting to see what he would do.
The man continued to smile at them, waiting.
Guyon jerked his hand, propelling the cup of wine forward, and splashing the man squarely in the face.
The man jerked backward, thrown off guard by the unexpected attack. But before he could react further, Guyon leapt forward and seized the man’s staff. In one fluid motion, he brought it down upon his armored knee. The amulet on his chest blazed with a holy light.
The staff cracked with a sound like thunder, and a wave of some kind of energy expanded out from it. Suddenly the laughter in the distant courtyard seemed subdued, and the luster of the flowers around them dimmed. The gate and wall also seemed to change before their eyes. It was no longer a magnificent structure covered in flowered vines. It was little more than a wooden fence, held together with rusty nails. The vines that covered it were full of thorns, and little remained of the flowers.
But the man himself changed the most. He cowered before Guyon, no longer a man of temperance as he had appeared to Guyon before. Now he was nothing but an old wretch of a man, covered in rags, and appearing no more a threat than a beggar on the street.
Guyon raised the arm holding his sword, pointing it at the man’s neck. “Stand aside.”
Immediately, the man turned and ran through the gate, away from them.
“Should we let him go?” asked Una. “He could warn Acrasia.” She looked like she was readying herself for something, and Guyon could have sworn that the air darkened around her.
“No,” he said, putting forth a hand to calm her. “I have a feeling she already knows we’re coming.”
Una hesitated, but finally nodded as the strange man disappeared over the next hill. Guyon let out a sigh of relief. He had almost been afraid that Una would destroy the man where he stood. He needed her help, but her magic had to be kept in check. She could not use it for anything but the most dire of circumstances against those like Acrasia.
Together, they entered the open gate. On the other side was another great field, also covered in flowers, these far more beautiful than the first. It seemed breaking the staff had not uncovered all the magic that maintained this place’s beauty. Indeed, the castle ahead of them looked far more enchanting than ever before.
On their left was a clear pool, and around it were several men and women that were the source of the revelry they had heard earlier. Many of them were naked, swimming in the pool and laughing as though they had no care in the world. What surprised Guyon was the number of women that were among the crowd. From what they knew, Acrasia had taken mostly men away from the mainland. Yet here he saw many fair maidens splashing each other in the pool, or engaged in lascivious behavior with some of the men.
Guyon turned away, staring straight at the path ahead. He could not allow himself to be distracted. These people were no threat, except as a distraction from his true goals. He would keep moving.
They proceeded past the pool, ignoring the calls inviting them to join in the festivities. Both Guyon and Una paid them no head. Soon, the calls were lost, and Guyon fixed his gaze ahead at the next gate.
This gate was even more decorated than the first, covered in the same colorful flowers, but these were far larger and more impressive. And what they could make out of the actual wall beneath the vines was gilded in gold and other precious metals. Jewels encrusted the arch of the gate as they approached. Guyon could see why Acrasia had been an ally of Mammon. Lust of such niceties was as much a part of one Deadly Sin as the other.
At this gate stood another figure, this one a woman. She smiled upon their approach, as though she had no idea that they were a threat, though surely she would have seen the first man come this way.
“Welcome,” she intoned, her voice as soothing as anything Guyon had ever heard. The amulet pulsed with each syllable. Raising one hand, she offered a fruit, one of the most beautiful apples he’d ever seen. “You are weary. Rest here, and you will never have to concern yourself with the troubles of the world again.”
In actuality, Guyon believed her. If Acrasia had her way, most people probably would be allowed to stay here in relative bliss for the rest of their lives, never having to worry about their problems again. It was a tempting offer, even for him, and even with the amulet.
Yet that did not make it right. Men had often turned to brothels or alcohol in order to forget their troubles. But that did not mean that trouble ceased to be. Sooner or later it would catch up with anyone, no matter how hard they tried to avoid it. In this case, that trouble would be the total destruction of the world by the power of the Deadly Sins. Even if some would remain here in paradise, that was not an end he could tolerate. And besides, there was little chance that Acrasia truly meant the best for all who she invited to stay here.
“Take us to Acrasia,” he said, keeping his voice low.
“You have already found her,” said the woman. “I am Acrasia.”
Guyon tensed, but
Una spoke up. “She’s lying. Acrasia is still in the tower.”
The woman glanced at Una and her calm, cheerful complexion broke for an instant.
Guyon took a step towards the woman, swiping at her outstretched hand and knocking the apple to the ground. “Do not make me repeat myself.”
“You may pass,” said the woman in a breathless tone. “When you find the great door to the castle, the staircases will lead you to her. But you cannot defeat her, she will dominate your mind.”
“She will try,” he said, before leaving the woman behind and entering through the second gate.
As they passed through, Guyon couldn’t help but notice just how much this place reminded him of the Shadow Realm where he had confronted Mammon. Honestly, he had expected more physical threats here, perhaps some of the men who Acrasia had lured to her will. So far, they had seen few people, other than those by the pool. And though they had been many, it wouldn’t account for all the men Acrasia had taken thus far.
The castle at the center of the Bower of Bliss rose before them, its tall towers gleaming with a white light. Yet for all its grandeur, there was something off-putting about it, like it was more of a painting than a real place.
“It looks a lot like the Faerie Queen’s palace,” said Una. “Or at least a pale reflection of it.”
Guyon had never seen his Queen’s palace, but it almost bothered him that they were similar. Of course, that wasn’t because Acrasia and Gloriana shared any form of temperament. Acrasia was likely imitating the Faerie Queen, mocking her for who she was.
“It stands to reason that the Sin of Lust would build a castle like that of their enemy. Acrasia seeks after that which she cannot have.”
“She is flawed,” Una conceded.
“And that gives us all the more advantage.” Guyon stepped forward, readying himself to enter the castle and proceed up to the top.
“Guyon,” he stopped and turned back to look at Una. Her face was troubled, a sort of vulnerability breaking through her usual facade of stony determination.
“You’ll be alright,” he said, answering her unasked question.
“I…” she hesitated again.
He turned and strode back a few steps to place his arms on her shoulders. “Una, remember this. Your magic is not what makes you. No matter what, you remain in control of yourself.”
“You believe that?”
He nodded, “I do. The Christians have a scripture in their library, teaching of a man named Paul.”
“I thought you weren’t a Christian.”
He shook his head. “I’m not a lot of things, but that does not mean wisdom can’t be found in many corners of the Earth. In this case, Paul says that their God will not suffer them to be tempted above that they are able, but rather will provide a way to escape and bear the temptation.”
“This is hardly the same.”
“It is exactly the same,” he said, earnestly, holding her shoulders a little tighter. “If you don’t believe the scripture, believe me. I am a master of myself. I have helped others become the same. No one knows better than I that all evil can be overcome eventually.”
She held his stern gaze, “I don’t want to use my magic.” Tears began flowing down her cheeks, yet she kept her eyes locked with his. “I don’t like what it does to me.”
“Magic is just a thing, a tool. It is the magic wielder that matters more.”
They stood that way for a while, staring into each other’s eyes, not in a romantic way, but in a way that transferred trust and resolve between them. When they finally broke, and both faced the nearest castle door, Una finally spoke again. “I will do what I can.”
“That is all either of us can do.”
And with that, they both hurried into the open door, towards the staircase that would lead them upward.
33
Una kept her thoughts to herself after entering the building. Inwardly, she felt a deep and overwhelming gratitude to Guyon. She still didn’t think of him as a lover, and neither did he, she was sure. Love passed other boundaries, and did not always follow logic. But she was sure of one thing, her friendship with Guyon had become one of the deepest and most valuable connections she had ever made with another person. Only her relationship with George rivaled it.
But as they wound their way up the staircase, Una couldn’t help but wonder if their friendship would outlast the day. In her estimation, it was highly likely that the two of them would be dead or in Acrasia’s service within the next few hours. This was the Sin who had literally taken most of the men in Anglesey without any trouble at all, and she had killed dozens of women as well. What could one knight and a girl like her do against that?
There was always her magic. It had killed Pyrochles and Cymochles together, men that not even Guyon had been able to beat without help. And there was always the amulet Guyon wore. Would that only protect him or would it somehow diminish Acrasia’s power?
No matter what, she had to stay on her guard. After that last conversation she had determined to use her magic if necessary. Against Acrasia she could use it, even use it to kill again if she had to. Though she was determined to avoid that if possible.
Do what is necessary, said one of the voices. Always do what is necessary.
Necessary to do what though? What she deemed important wouldn’t necessarily be the same as what her magic wanted, or what others wanted either. And if her magic rebelled again and tried to take control of her, what then? Could she keep it at bay?
A dim light began to come from up above, and sweet music like the chirping of songbirds met their ears. A faint smell of roses wafted down to them.
No, she would maintain control. Guyon had to be right, there had to be a way to stay in control at all times. Her own free will had to be maintained. If there was a God, it would make sense that he would not take that away from her, even if she was plunged into impossible situations. Even in those dire circumstances, she had control over her emotions. And she would maintain that control now.
The magic was quiet of late, as if anticipating the encounter with Acrasia. They weren’t far now, the smell and sounds were growing louder, and the light must be coming from no more than a single level up.
Indeed, both she and Guyon soon found themselves at the top of the winding staircase. Through a narrow door at the top, Una could make out a brightly lit interior, and one that was far larger than she would have expected from the top of a tower like this. She’d been in many keeps like it, particularly that of the City of Pride and the keep at her own Castle Silene. But the chamber beyond was far larger. Its circumference was so large and filled with people that she almost couldn’t make out the back of it. Beds and long couches covered the ground, and on each one lay at least two individuals, kissing and engaging in other lascivious behavior, in various stages of undress. There were men here, a lot of men, though not enough to account for all those who had left Anglesey due to Acrasia’s sorcery.
But what drew both her and Guyon’s eyes was the large bed in the center of the room. It was far bigger and more richly gilded, and it was covered in pillows and bedding that would have made it the envy of any king. Beside it stood a large knight, covered in black armor, standing guard while another knight lay on the bed. Atop him lay a woman, with long legs and golden hair that fell in large curls down her back. She had on a simple white dress that bared her shoulders and most of her back. That had to be Acrasia.
None of the onlookers had noticed the two newcomers yet. They were all either engaged in their own pleasure, or observing Acrasia as she kissed the knight on the bed. No...Una squinted, Acrasia wasn’t kissing him. She brought her mouth close to the knight’s, but there was something else happening there. A dim light was emanating from the man’s mouth and eyes, a light that flowed into the Sin of Lust. He arched his back and his skin began to take on a gray hue, losing all color.
Una’s eyes widened as the man breathed out with a shudder of pleasure and grew still, nothing but an emp
ty husk on the bed.
Acrasia smiled and trailed one finger along the man’s cheek, as though caressing a lover, though this unfortunate victim was no longer among the living.
“Do come in,” she said in a loud voice, not yet looking at them but clearly aware of their presence. “We would never turn our hospitality away from any who come here.”
Guyon unconsciously took on a fighting stance, his feet planted firmly beneath him, and his sword held low but at the ready. The amulet glimmered from his chest. Everyone in the room turned to look at them. Most looked unconcerned, completely at ease with the idea that someone was joining them. Many of the eyes Una saw were glazed over, as if too far gone into their own revelry to notice anything else.
“Come now,” said Acrasia, rising from the bed, the silken fabric of her dress falling to the floor and hugging her curves. Her hips swayed as she took a step toward. “You’ve come all this way, not an easy task. You deserve...rest!”
With that final word, something changed. Acrasia’s eyes gained intensity, and to Una’s gaze, almost appeared to glow. That light seemed to emanate from her, filling the room. All who basked in it, threw back their heads in ecstasy, overcome by the Sin’s influence.
In that same instant, Una felt a wave of power pass over her, and in a moment she felt the same incredible pleasure flood through her. She opened her mouth and tilted her head back. Thoughts of Guyon, of George, of Arthur and others passed through her mind, each of them images that would have made her blush under other circumstances. But they were only a brief part of the magic that seized her. Suddenly, Acrasia was the most beautiful woman in the world. No, she was beyond beautiful, she was a goddess. Surely a woman like this was worthy of worship, and who were they to reject one whose only purpose was to give them all pleasure. Why would anyone fight that?
Something stirred within her, a memory of what came before, and a hint of unpleasantness entered her mind. A reminder. An image of a broken knight, his life energy sucked from his body by the woman who cast this spell.
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