He caught her gaze and nuzzled into her hand a little, inviting more contact, almost asking for it. Leslie ran her fingers through his mane carving gentle furrows with every inch she dared explore. Her heart slammed against her chest with the newness of the experience but something in his demeanor set her at ease; this powerful creature, this immortal, wasn't so far removed from humanity that he couldn't relate. . .
He was different from Isira in that sense, actually.
As she stroked his hair he watched her with a growing smirk, turning into her attentions, easing in closer and closer until he was only an inch away. The older woman dampened her lips, looking at her captor, wondering what she should do next.
The sphinx brushed against her stomach, murmuring in his usual rumbling voice: “How is my attire coming along, hm?”
“Uhm--” She swallowed. “Good, good. I'm almost finished, I just need to-- I need to get it finished.”
“Let's have a look it, then.”
Leslie stiffened. If he couldn't feel the magic at this distance, she'd be an idiot to let him any closer, but what could she do to dissuade him? Where was Isira when She was needed the most? Thinking fast, she cupped the sphinx's cheeks. “W- What, am I boring you already?”
He chuckled lightly. “You've been speaking to Her, haven't you? Ah, but she is a feisty minx, spurring the souls of many to passion. . . .but you seem different. Fresher. . .” He turned his head to kiss her wrist. “Maybe why She speaks so highly of you.”
“I- I'm nothing special.”
“I know. She knows. You know. But none of us believe it. . .” Without waiting for a reply the powerful creature leaned in and kissed her chest right between her breasts. He met her gaze firmly-- gentle but insistent. “So maybe you need to stop spreading lies.”
Leslie swallowed, caught off guard by his approach. “O- Okay.” She was even more caught off guard by the part of her that told her to kiss him. Over his shoulder she saw Isira creeping towards the room that she'd come to associate with being off limits to both of them. The two women locked eyes and the goddess made a ''keep going' gesture.
“Oh, you're kidding me, right?”
He was still watching her-- he started to turn-- Leslie did it. She kissed him hard and deep with all the power she could muster. When the sphinx's reaction turned from surprise to acceptance, she relinquished her control of the situation without letting go-- he seemed to prefer his women in charge of things, but how far could she push this?
As if answering her question he turned his head slightly and leaned into the kiss, taking her gently and lingering his warm mouth to hers-- there was no passion so much as there was a gentle kind of invitation, a familiar longing. Lonely and empty. Forsaken. Reaching out for hope and comfort. Leslie knew it all too well. . .
She leaned into the kiss to savor whatever moment they could share, not just for Isira's sake but her own and even his. No one deserved to be alone. But, as with so many things in her life, all too quickly it was over. He pulled back with a chuff. “Well now, that. . .”
“Was unexpected.” Leslie licked her lips, glancing away. Shame lit her features a cherry red.
The sphinx nudged her. “Was pleasant. I have some tables to check, but let me know if you need anything. . .” He turned away, leaving Leslie standing breathlessly in the hall.
Then she remembered Isira. “Oh! Hey! What should I tell Isira if She asks about you?” Leslie kept her voice high enough so it would travel, hoping her goddess would hear it as a warning.
“She knows where I am, I have no doubt!” He said as he plodded out towards the main entry. It wasn't until he was out of sight that Isira poked her head out from an alcove in the back of the room, grinning ear to ear.
“Figure it out yet?” The goddess prompted.
“What, the riddle? No.”
“Phooie. You're going to kick yourself when you realize what it is.”
“Yeah?”
“Mmhm”
“So uh, can I ask what you're doing?” Leslie licked her lips to clear-- or maybe sample the sphinx's taste.
“I was looking for a way into his chambers, unfortunately he's rather. . . .insistent with his word patterning.” She scoffed lightly. “Not sure where he learned the craft, but I suppose I should expect no less.”
“How so?”
“He was made by Elisandra, one of Her earlier endeavors! Rather a shining example of his kind, really. . .” She glanced at the door behind her. “Quite effective at his craft, too! I should be proud--”
“So you can't open the door? You?”
“Pitiable, I know.” Isira whirled about, sliding up behind Leslie. She draped Her arms around the mortal's waist. “Unfortunately someone had the bright idea that we shouldn't be able to interfere with one another's projects. Something about some missing mortals, several leagues worth of farm land and a galleon’s worth of spirits?” She pouted theatrically. “A very sad tale, looking back.”
“I-- okay. I should probably get to work.”
“All right-- By the way?”
“Yeah?”
“That riddle. . .”
“Uh huh?”
“The magic word-- it's something he's fond of saying.” A wry smile crossed Her lips. “Aee.”
“Aee?”
“E. As in the letter, but his specific enunciation is Aee. It's his name.”
Leslie furrowed her brow. “The magic word is his name? Okay, so why's that important?”
Isira chuckled, “Come now, my paladin, use your gifts! You're a creative girl, I'm sure you--”
“Wait!” Leslie blinked. “Are you saying he cries out his own name when he-- uh-- finishes?” She blushed. Was She serious?
A wry smile graced her goddess's features.
At first Leslie felt a wave of revulsion, but after a moment something more interesting struck her-- she could meld the fabric's essence to accept an activation word if she was careful. She'd almost inadvertently done so several times when her mind wandered too far--
Leslie's smile mirrored Isira's as the final part of the plan clicked into place.
Chapter 6: The Truth and Lie
“I sometimes wonder what would happen if the gods were in perfect agreement on everything. Their servants openly speak of their (usually friendly) disagreements on matters of faith, governance and vision for the future with refreshing candor. I suspect a great deal of what would transpire would be good for the whole if not for the individual. At such a macroscopic level, the ability for humanoids to even comprehend nuance more or less dissolves.
Yet somehow the gods manage.
Usually.”
-Anonymous
Letters From the Gods Volume 224
The meal Leslie had come to associate with dinner didn't materialize that evening coaxing her out of her little shelter to see if something had happened. Isira was at the bar across the way with one of the sphinx's bottles of alcohol and a half empty glass beside Her clenched hand. When she made her way nearer she caught snippets of a breathy and strange language that carried a distinct bite of angry discourse being traded back and forth.
Isira wore a long blue and gold trimmed garment that had the upper cut of a military uniform and the double breasted buttons to match, flowing into a sheer skirt that touched the ground. It was a strange contrast, but one that she imagined matched the sphinx's proclivities. If the way he looked at her was any indication, he liked legs and Isira's dress certainly accented Hers.
Which was kind of a silly concept given she was a goddess and could-- quite literally should have been beyond any concept either of them could have pondered.
Knowing better than to get involved, Leslie turned away.
“Don't.” Isira switched back to a language Her minion could understand. “You're hungry.”
“I can uh, I can wait.”
“Time,” Isira said vacantly. Leslie could see the glaze in Her eyes even from a distance, but she wasn't prepared for the undertone of anger. Fro
m everything she'd heard of Isira, such a thing was impossible. But then she'd seen first hand how She kept everyone at a distance. “Time, yes. . .”
“I uh, I'm sorry.” Leslie gave a sheepish smile. “I'll come back later.”
“No.” Aee padded out from around the bar. “Make something to eat, I'll not have my guest going hungry.”
Isira shot him a dirty look.
Leslie frowned. It was like watching someone's parents fight on a much stranger level. She was a goddess for crying out loud, who was he to--
“What if,” Isira cut her off with a dismissive tone. “Humor me; what if the idols you've created and indeed that created you, were not worth your respect.” The question was quite clearly directed at Leslie. “What then, hm?” Her eyes flashed with a darkness Leslie had never seen before. The subtle shift in her goddess's posture spoke volumes, about anger and defeat, and a long buried hopelessness daring to break still waters. “What if. . .”
“What if?”
“Would you even want to know? Could you stand it?” Her sultry lips twisted into a mockery of a smile. “What if we destroyed the planet, hm? What then?”
Aee clucked his tongue with a derisive snort. “The Holy Elisandra talked about those times; there was nothing that could have done.”
“I. . .” Leslie trailed off into silence when it was clear she had nothing to contribute.
“Yes, yes, the gods! So magnificent. . . And the mortals sit there worshiping. Praising. Telling one another stories about how the concepts their idols represent are better than one another.” She slammed Her glass down. It shattered and instantly reformed around Her hand like a block of ice. She drew Her hand out as if the glass was made of water and She of solid matter. “Why are they worth dying for, hm?” A brief glance at Aee. “Show me one instance where an idea has been worth dying for. Where being maimed, blinded has been worth it. We made you to be better than that. So mortals wouldn't repeat the mistakes their idols made.” To Leslie She said, “And you failed us!”
Leslie shrunk away and even the sphinx bristled a little in what had to have been fear. Isira's aura of power shrunk into itself like a tide receding from broken shores, but for all Her righteous anger Her voice stayed smooth. Like black ice.
Isira swiped her face and clutched her drink glass tightly for a moment. “I watched entire continents dissolve under burning clouds. Civilizations, entire cultures gone in an instant.” The glass bowed inward around Her fingers. “Continents slid into boiling seas and the air--” Isira's gaze fell to Leslie. “We destroyed the world.”
“Y- you. . .” No. She didn't want to know- but the pull, the curiosity. What secrets was she not supposed to hear? She saw pain in Isira's face as plain as she'd seen on the road from the village, it wasn't just the curiosity eating at her. This goddess, this woman was hurting-- and as strange and idiotic a concept as it was, Leslie wanted to help Her. Tentatively she edged around the bar and wrapped her arms around the ancient power.
Isira drank in Leslie's scent and even, she imagined, some of her essence. Her whisper was so quiet it could have broken a thousand nights. “Maybe I shouldn't have survived. But here I am.”
“Hey,” Leslie whispered in return. “Relax. Relax, it's okay. . .” She swallowed and for the briefest moment wondered if she'd stepped over some line. “Want to talk about it?”
Isira gave her a strange look.
“That's what friends are for, right?”
The goddess looked at her a moment longer. She went to take a drink but Leslie grabbed Her hand. She looked equally surprised and vaguely upset at that reaction but at Leslie's calm smile She set the glass down and, in a surprisingly timid whisper said, “We didn't know. . .”
“It's okay. It's okay. . .” Leslie wrapped her arms around Isira, not knowing what else to do to reassure Her. For the moment the little mortal held a goddess close, she completely forgot her place and lost herself in what it meant to be a friend, to be part of something larger than herself; not being alone. A gift they could both share.
Isira nuzzled against her ear in a distinctly human gesture, bringing Her own arms around Leslie a moment later. They stood like that for several minutes before Leslie, sensing something in the area had changed, opened her eyes to find Aee gone. She quietly relayed this to her goddess who was less than impressed.
“You okay?” Leslie whispered.
“Naturally!” In an instant She was all smiles again even though the haze of alcohol still clung to Her eyes. For a moment it looked like She was about to say something more but She slid away from Leslie's grasp and appeared beside the door to Aee's private chamber with a set of slim pink lockpicks. Without thought She slid them into middle of the door as if it were made of nothing and started to work them this way and that.
“Hey, what're you doing?” Leslie dampened her lips. “Uh, I don't think--”
A sharp electric crack popped from within the door and Isira pouted as the picks were spit out across the floor in a shower of sparkling energy. Abruptly She shifted beside Leslie and, with a rather sour expression planted Her elbow on Leslie's shoulder and head on Her own hand as if lounging. “I was never a fan of Elisandra, and this is why. You couldn't have gotten a needle up Her ass with a sledge hammer.”
Leslie balked. “Really? I mean-- Really?”
“True!”
“You talk like She's dead. Isn't he one of Her creations?”
“Mmm,” Isira booped her nose. “Observant.” But rather than expand on it, She strolled back to the door with Leslie in tow. “What do you make of this, then?”
“It's metallic. . . .it has its own kind of haze, like your magic does. But it's kind of different, like someone molded it.”
“Good, what else?”
Leslie scooted up to the door opening her extra senses to feel the aura of magic the door exuded, without touching it she could feel the ebb and flow of something incredibly ancient behind the power. In her mind she imagined it as a series of impossibly dense interlocking threads that didn't bend when she felt Isira push against them, instead they only tightened their weave. “It doesn't give up anything. . .”
“Mmhm?”
“It's reacting? When you touch it there's a tension in everything, like it's hardening against you.”
“You can feel that, can you?” She grinned.
“Feel what?” Aee said from behind them. Leslie startled and wheeled in place-- Isira grabbed her hand as if She was spinning the mortal and walked her into the steps of a dance neither had rehearsed. It couldn't have been more suspicious if they'd been going at the door with a chisel, but Leslie still went with the dance as best she could.
They turned in place to face the sphinx. He wasn't smiling. His ears were flat and his tail clapped the ground lightly in irritation. Leslie threw her hand out in a 'tada' motion.
He wasn't smiling.
“We were practicing,” Leslie spat out. “For the fashion show--”
Isira tutted. “That was supposed to be a surprise!”
“Oh crap, that's right. Sorry.”
Aee perked up slightly. “You mean it's done? You're done?!”
“Uh, close!”
“Show me.” Before anyone had a chance to react he was on all fours strolling towards the cell. Leslie jogged behind to keep up with Isira following behind. Panic flit through her tired mind as it became apparent there'd be no time for Isira to disguise the signature magic in the fabric.
Dragon (S)Layers: The Paladin Gambit Page 9