Dragon (S)Layers: The Paladin Gambit

by Tammy Silverwolf

  Isira watched him go, shaking Her head with a faint smile. When She turned her head Leslie was staring at her. The goddess casually erased the distance between them and cupped her chin. “No one can make you what you were not meant to be, stop doubting yourself. . .” In Her eyes was a world of warmth and passion just waiting to be explored, daring the paladin-- the 40 something no one wanted anything to do with-- to turn away. Of course she wouldn't.

  They'd come too far now to get what She was after. This was a test, this was the lesson and the training all rolled into one. But what did her goddess have planned for her? She was too tired for tact or politeness, so she blurted out the first question that popped into her head. “You're killing me here. . . .what's with you two?”

  Isira gave her a wry little smile. “We created the sphinxes, you don't think they were born capricious and mysterious, do you? Rather a reflection of my own proclivities, I suppose.” A tinge of sadness touched Her eyes but just as quickly it vanished. “They're more amiable than Cherubs, quite by design might I add.”

  “Sounds like a good friend to have if not for the whole kidnapping thing. . .”

  “Therein lies the rub I'm afraid. At least for you. Inquisitive and vague can be a double edged sword. But I'm sure you'll figure something out, all you need is faith.”

  Leslie barked a rueful laugh. “You know, I was a disbeliever before I met your cleric, right?”

  Chapter 5: The Finer Points

  “The End of the World is thought of as the practical border between land and the domain of the divine, but to hear a sphinx speak of it, you'd be forgiven for doubting the common wisdom. Not because a sphinx-- itself a divinely inspired being-- is to be believed wholly, but because of the accounts of sailors who happened to wash up on the craggy and unforgiving shores opposite our 'End of the World'.

  Few make it back, fewer still have stories to tell. But these are respected men of Estan's military and scrupulous, upstanding merchants who managed to independently verify each other's stories. Listening to the wonder and fear in their voice, it's no wonder this place is thought of as a place for the divine; surely no sane mortal would long survive the place they describe.

  The most consistent features of these stories are the skies; not unlike the skies that roll over the Forgotten Lands to the south. These skies are tinged with purple crystalline flakes that swirl around lightning which will erase entire swaths of land in the blink of an eye, winds howl with an eerie groan and peace is absent from all but the deepest caves.

  Many of the sphinx you will encounter are happy to tell you about their birth place, some even claim to know how it came to be that way but prying those secrets from their sharpened claws is an act of divinity itself. . .

  None the less, we must ask and we must explore, for it is in our nature to do so.”

  Taey Hobart

  Research Notes on the Nature of Divinity

  True to his word, the sphinx brought her a pouch containing a bunch of sewing supplies of exotic and indiscernible nature. She'd never seen metal needles or thread as fine, but when it came to it they functioned as well as the bone needles she was used to and the thread was a joy to work with.

  The door to her 'cell' was left wide open from that point forward and over the next few hours a steady stream of steamy high tempo music filtered in as she worked. It sounded exotic, a feast for the ears and the only thing that managed to drown out the haze ever tightening around Leslie's mind.

  The two immortals would occasionally dance into view as she worked her needle and grab her attention thoroughly. The way Isira moved was unlike anything she'd ever seen before-- her voluptuous form flowed from one pose to the other; her hips would sway as her back arched and she reached for the ceiling, her body moving like a sidewinder across sultry desert sands.

  A snake had a bite, too, though and it was clear the sphinx knew it. When Her mood would turn and She retook the lead, he had no choice but to back down. Her heel clacked loudly against the tile and her long leg brushed dangerously against the sphinx's jaw. He looked up to his mistress, his goddess. And he crouched down in submission.

  Leslie's mouth hung open as she watched.

  They stayed like that for a long moment as if either one would break whatever invisible spell they'd weaved if they dared move a muscle. The moment seemed to stretch on forever until the sphinx stood once more and boldly reached for the goddess's hand, taking it and kissing the back.

  She didn't realize it at the time, but this mating dance became a recurring thing over the next day or so that followed. Leslie worked tirelessly to finish the outfit she'd started, all the while sliding ever deeper into the foggy high the magic was giving off. She'd never been much of a drug user, but the perpetual buzz made it incredibly hard to think. When she'd focus on the magic in her garment, however, she could find more intricacies in the way things connected, with every new cut and connection she made, the nature of it changed slightly.

  It was no wonder everyone lusted after magic, life was positively dull without the kiss of its power. It was so easy to see why the sphinx hoarded these treasures, it made life worth living-- well, maybe not worth living but it certainly made things more interesting! Her pains had faded somewhat and if not for the rumbling in her stomach, Leslie was sure she'd have never known she was hungry. . . What other mysteries must it hold?

  Leslie flexed her hands and inspected her work. The lines were crisp and tight with wonderfully lavish flourishes wherever seams intersected and openings were made, even before she applied the accents, this was unquestionably some of her best work. She smiled as she leaned back. How had she accomplished so much in so little time, though? Was it her eyesight making things easier?

  “Come to think of it,” Leslie mused. “How long have we been here?”

  “A few days!” Isira appeared beside her with a plate and glass of wine.

  Leslie startled. “Shit! Uh-- sorry.”

  Isira chuckled. “Here, I didn't make this so you could ignore me again-- eat something, you're beginning to worry me!” It was at that time Leslie noticed the goddess was wearing a saffron dress that clung to her like a second skin-- with a high collar and luxurious feather stitching motif it painted a striking contrast to her golden brown skin and made her hair all the more vibrant.

  “Uh--” Leslie blinked. “What do you mean?”

  “You've been ignoring us for days! You've not slept at all and I've barely heard a peep from you,” Isira grinned as she wrapped an arm around Her paladin's shoulder and laid Her chin there, looking down. She sniffed. “Well, I suppose the bright side is that we don't need to see to a bath for you.”

  Days? No, it was minutes. Surely she was being messed with. “What- what happened?”

  “You entered a trance. I've seen it happen a few times, but almost never for that long! You continue to make me wonder, perhaps you're more magically sensitive than I first thought.” Isira prodded her with the plate. “But for now, I want you to eat something.”

  Leslie scarfed down her dinner but when it was all said and done, Isira's attention slid to the outfit. “My my, that has quite the interesting feel to it, doesn't it?”

  “Yeah, I. . . I don't know how to-- well, I think I do? But it's so hard to think! It's like I'm. . . .lost or something.”

  “Mmm. That happens sometimes--” she glanced back to check if anyone was listening. “It's the crystal, you see.” Isira smiled. “Don't give me that look, it's been around longer than most of us were. You're probably a little dizzy, yes?”

  “I-- Yeah.”

  “I figured. Don't worry, you're not going insane. It's a side effect of direct exposure-- you'll get over it in time. . .”

  “Is- is that what was taken from you?”

  A flash of irritation washed over Isira but she smiled at Leslie all the same, “Nope! It's been a terribly long time since I've even seen a crystal this close to the surface. I'm not terribly thrilled, but this is Elisandra's sphinx and, regretably, I
can't change this place or I'd have moved it somewhere safer.”

  “Safer. . .” Leslie tensed. “Why do I get a sinking feeling about this?”

  Isira chuckled. “It's safe enough. Elisandra taught Her little pet how to handle them safely, but there was a time. Those crystals took from the world its only hope of a peaceful future. But that's before your time and largely irrelevant by now, isn't it?” She smiled playfully, resettling Herself around Her paladin in a manner that was as protective as it was enticing.

  Without a thought Isira rested her chin on the mortal's shoulder, holding her close. “I miss those days sometimes, but we can't go back. . . .I tried once. Just to see if it could be done--”

  “Should I be hearing this?”

  “Would you rather I didn't?” She shot back. “If I can't confide in my own paladin, who can I talk to?”

  Leslie glanced back, interlacing her fingers with Isira's as the goddess watched her. She betrayed nothing of the thoughts roiling behind Her eyes, but there was a vague sense of sadness about Her. Just as quickly as Leslie recognized it, though, Isira smiled warmly and kissed Leslie's neck. The seamstress scoffed. “You bring me into this mess and try to get me to forget about it with a couple kisses and some words?”

  “Mrrrrrm,” the goddess purred in her ear. “I'm still here too, now aren't I? It's not all about you.” She poked Leslie playfully. “So tell me, what is this little garment you're working on and why are you being so brazen about it?”

  “Huh? Brazen? But I was--”

  “Just sewing it together? Please, dear, I know you've been manipulating its essence. You're quite lucky I managed to distract him from feeling it too! Though I doubt he could sense it considering how polluted this place is. But that piques my curiosity. . .” With those words Isira nuzzled against Leslie's neck, playfully toying with her stomach the entire time. “I'm not the only one being naughty here, am I?”

  The closeness was an unfamiliar friend but Isira made it feel right and in no time at all Leslie slid back into the clutches of her patron, letting out the longest sigh she had in a very long time. Just being near someone lifted her spirits. Leslie laid her head on the goddess's shoulder and murmured, “I figured that the enchantment-- is it an enchantment?-- was designed to make someone sleep and you can feel it on the outside of the fabric. . . So I sewed it inside out and pleated it with some silk from a wine dress.”

  “Mmmmm.” Lips grazed Leslie's throat. “But what will you do with it then?” She didn't sound surprised. “Have him put us to sleep? Surely not.”

  “What? No, that'd be kind of dumb-- mmm. . .” Leslie trailed off as the goddess sucked at her neck lightly, her hands followed closely behind, easing up her ribcage, holding her sides-- supporting her. Maybe even teasing her with something she could have. . . But did she dare? “What're you doing?”

  “Whatever I please,” Isira cooed and kissed her jaw. “You've been working hard, I think you deserve a reward.”

  Leslie pushed against her. “How about a drink and a good nap.”

  “That can be arranged.”

  “It'd be nice.”

  Isira wrapped her arms around Leslie and hugged her. “Get some rest, then. I'll wake you in a few hours.”

  “What are you going to do, though? He-- he hasn't hurt you, has he?”

  She scoffed. “You're so cute when you worry about me-- if anything it should be the other way around! No, you may rest soundly that nothing transpires without my invitation.” She kissed Leslie's ear again. “Though. . .”

  Leslie looked to Her with a growing dread.

  She grinned a catty little smile. “Maybe you'd like to host a fashion show.”

  It wasn't a question.

  #

  Leslie was more careful with her sewing the next time she woke up. She deliberately kept her distance from feeling the 'essence' of the garment even though it prickled her senses like a brier patch the entire time. The work was slower, but it gave her time mull over the riddle.

  She'd even written it down and kept referring to it when her mind would inevitably start to wander. Meals came at random times and Isira stopped in to check on her to make sure she was still responsive, it was touching and irritating at the same time-- often just when she felt she was making some progress on the riddle her thoughts would be interrupted.

  With her latest snack perched on her knee she read her note over again: “It has been around for eternity and is ever with queens, doesn't stick around for kings. You can find it with the joker, but not the knight and no matter which land you conquer, it will never be found in a fight.”

  Leslie munched her shortbread and stretched out, pacing the room a few times. Briefly she considered going to the main chamber, but the last time she'd tried that the headache had nearly brought her to tears. Fortunately the 'power high' of the magical energy permeating the place was fading more with every hour she spent in it. Unfortunately it also meant she could feel the tug of the magic trinkets influencing her behavior. Even her project was making her a little drowsy the longer she stayed around it.

  The crystal was an all together different beast. It magnified the powers of the objects closest to it and in turn fed off their energies making for a mind boggling flood of sensations and influences. The chambers walls helped break up the magic somewhat, but it was a constant 'hum' against her subconscious that-- Leslie was sure-- was slowly driving her insane.

  After a few minutes of pacing and some stretching, Leslie turned to pick up her garment to resume working on it. The sphinx was sitting at the edge of the doorway looking right at her with a smug grin plastered across his features. His eyes were alight with mischief and anticipation, a youthful excitement made him seem all the more human in that moment.

  “Uh, hello.”

  “Have you figured it out yet?!” His wings ruffled. “It's been several days and you're still moping about, don't tell me you've given up already?”

  Leslie opened her mouth, stopped. No, it wasn't wrong to be a smart ass. But it was a bad idea to be a dumb ass. “Maybe it has something to do with being taken against my will,” she smiled lightly, trying to force herself to sound relaxed.

  “Don't be so drab! Come on, let's hear the magic word. . . I bet you know it and you don't know you know it, for someone like you that seems almost too good a fit.” He prowled forward a little, stopping several feet away as if she might hit him. “Or maybe I could teach you instead. . .”

  “Teach me. . .?”

  His tanned features scrunched in amusement and he stepped closer, this time his gaze roamed her and he breathed in deeply. When he spoke his voice was a luxurious, throaty purr. “Mortality is no barrier to perfection, paladin. . . .in some its a gift.” He met and held her gaze. The primal power he held was as alien as it was consuming, daring her to look away. He seemed to think he could compel her to anything, but he didn't even make the attempt as he eased into her space, closer and closer.

  Leslie could have shooed him away, she could have pushed him or asked him to stop, but was she willing to risk the only chance they might've had to escape by rebuffing him? She swallowed, eying the timeless creature. His features were most distinctly human but for the slight flatness to his nose and the ears poking through his hair. . . But he was certainly handsome and exotic-- was she insane?

  Her hand trembled as she raised it. She was. She had to be.

  Or, she was Isira's paladin. . . .the truly liberated; the curious. The older woman cupped his cheek-- hot to the touch-- a thrill ran through her as she took in the rest of his visage, standing for the first time since meeting him in awe of his power rather than in fear of it. He was strong, well built and broad shouldered with a wonderfully defined humanoid chest that would've put a soldier to shame. That chest flowed smoothly into his chocolate colored fur. If not for the tell tale paws-- massive enough to easily crush her skull if he chose.