A high-pitched whine and spinning, blurry vision greeted Linarra when she opened her eyes. For a moment, she didn't know where she was. For a moment, she was simply back in the Temple, on her stiff, uncomfortable cot. Or maybe near the village with the possessed girl, sleeping with her side pressed against her Guardian, Veshier.
She knew, in moments, that none of those things were true.
Someone stood over her, their breathing ragged, almost wet sounding. She couldn't make out their face, but she could see their eyes. The eyes were burning lamps, reddish orange, like the licking flames of a campfire.
It wasn't heavy breathing, after all. It was laughter, soft, surprised laughter that grew in volume with every passing moment.
"What do we have here, hmm?" a voice finally spoke, the laughter dying. The voice was male, lilting and whimsical sounding.
Groaning, unable to answer, Linarra managed to sit up. Her head hurt badly and the chamber spun. She clutched at her head with her hands, clamping her eyes shut to stop the spinning.
"Linarra, Priestess," she managed to grit out. She could call herself that, now. A priestess. She'd earned it. If this man was a part of the Brotherhood and there to kill her...so be it. She didn't have the strength to defend herself. Defeated, keeping her eyes squeezed shut, her shoulders stooped. Linarra only hoped that it would be quick and merciful.
Her response was greeted with hooting laughter. "A priestess?" the speaker sounded incredulous -and- delighted. "Did you do this then? All this...filth? The blood?"
Cracking an eye open, she chanced a look up at the man. He was nude, entirely. His body was compact and muscular. He was likely not much taller than she was. He had broad shoulders and dark auburn hair that fell past his chin, brushing the tops of said shoulders. His eyes...were burning embers.
Finally, she sat up straighter, the world not so topsy-turvy, though her head still hurt. "What?" she stammered. "The blood? No...I didn't do that. It was just...here. When I got here."
He had an impish face, a slightly upturned nose which now wrinkled in distaste. "It's -gross-," he told her. "Absolutely disgusting."
She nodded. Couldn't argue with that. But...who was he? Why was he here? Linarra looked around at all the stone rubble on the ground and the missing stone in the center. She stared at the spot the towering stone had been, eyes slowly widening in terror and sudden realization.
The man sighed and sat down in front of her, crossing his legs, pillowing his sharp chin in his palm. He eyed her, cocking his head to the side. "What are you staring at?"
Linarra couldn't answer. She felt sick, her throat so dry she couldn't swallow right. Her gaze slid from where the stone had been to the man's face. He seemed young, around Veshier's age, but his eyes...quickly, she looked away.
"Where the stone used to be," she whispered, stinging tears filling her eyes as she realized what she'd done and who he was.
He craned his neck to look. "Oh. Yes. I suppose I should thank you, little priestess. For freeing me." His tone held mean spirited amusement.
Sucking in a deep breath, she met his gaze. She deserved this, whatever fate had in store for her. She'd done the worst thing in the world. She'd freed the Usurper. "Are you going...g-going to kill me?" she asked, voice small, pathetic. It only made her hate herself more.
His brow furrowed. "Should I?" he finally asked.
"I would rather you...not," she said, her voice creaking like a rusty hinge.
Where she had a hard time looking at him before, she couldn't stop staring now. He didn't look a thing like she'd imagined. He wasn't a terrible beast or monster, like the Books of Ishahn had said he was. She did note that his long fingers were tipped with pointed nails. Not quite claws. When he grinned crookedly at her, she saw his canine teeth were pointed. But in passing, he simply looked like a handsome youth.
He tsk'd at her. "Why would I kill the girl who freed me? Seems very ungrateful. Rude, even."
"I didn't mean to," she blurted. "I just touched the stone. I...I should..." she couldn't talk right, she kept stammering, stumbling over every word.
He leaned forward, hotly glowing eyes narrowing, his smile wolfish. "You should -what-?"
Gasping at his sudden proximity, Linarra recoiled back, lifting her chin in defiance. "Kill you," she said.
Immediately she realized what a ridiculous thing it was to say. Kill him? Was he even flesh and blood? He certainly looked that way, but he was a -god-, an Aspect of the Mother, her Great Adversary. If the Mother wanted him 'dead', wouldn't he be already? She could feel her expression crumple and her eyes fill to the brim with tears again until he was a surprised looking, watery smear in her field of vision.
He stood, glowering down at her, all his impish delight vanished. His lips curled into a cruel smirk. The Usurper regarded her as though she were an insect. "Is -that- so?" he asked, musical voice low with menace. "Is that what they're teaching little priestesses these days? I'd love to see you try...what did you say your name was?"
"B-be gone, Usurper!" Linarra cried, crab walking backwards, hands slipping and sliding on the blood and muck that covered the cavern floor. Veshier, she thought desperately. Please. She couldn't feel him, not even a flicker of him in the Bond.
"Usurper?" he asked, amused, advancing on her with quick, easy strides. "I have a name, girl. It's not -that-."
He lowered himself on his haunches, wrists on his knees, watching her try to scuttle away. She held her hands out in front of her, trembling, not sure what she was trying to do. Maybe she could banish him as she had done the demon inside that girl.
This time there was no crackle of power, no lightning down her limbs. Nothing.
"Aren't you even going to ask?" He tsk'd again. "And put your stupid hands down. You couldn't kill a fly in your state. I'm not going to eat you," he said. "Yet." He snapped his teeth at her with a harsh laugh.
"Veshier!" she screamed. It was pointless. The Usurper was taunting her. He'd kill her or worse. She could never return to the Temple. She'd damned herself and her Guardian.
The Usurper, the Great Deceiver shook his head. "That's not it either. It's Sahimul. I prefer that if you're going to address me at all." He eyed her with his burning gaze for a moment. Then, with no warning at all, his hand shot out, and he snatched her by the throat, his lip curling over his teeth.
"So...you came here to what, exactly? Gloat over my defeat? Is that what your 'order' does? And now you'll try and kill me! You're an idiot and waste of time." He raised his hand tipped with sharp nails. "I'll do you a favor, Linarra," he said in a low voice, "I'll dispatch you quickly."
With her hands wrapped around his wrist, desperately trying to pry his fingers from her throat, she squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to see it. Wanting it to be over soon. Linarra waited for a blow that never came. The hand that gripped her throat trembled and never squeezed hard enough to cut off her air.
Whimpering, she opened her eyes. His hand hovered there, shaking, his face twisted in a snarl. Every muscle of his body taut. Sweat beaded on his brow.
"What great joke is this?" he murmured. "I can't."
"Let me go," she said, trying to summon a speck of courage.
Much to her surprise, Sahimul released her. He flopped back, sitting in front of her again. "I can't kill you," he marveled. "And I tried!"
She didn't know what it meant. Linarra rubbed her fingers over her neck where he'd tried to choke her. Not that it hurt. It just felt...strange. Tingling. Though she was very afraid and very disappointed in herself, she couldn't bring herself to hate him. She should. She should be boiling in bile, spitting scripture at him. Praying to the Mother. Something. Not just sitting there, staring at him like a fool.
He glowered right back. "Maybe I should try again," he threatened, but he made no move to do so.
Instead of praying, she focused all her will and intent on Veshier. The Bond. Distance wasn't supposed to matter. He should have felt her by now, her distress. But when she searched along the magical connection, it felt numb and...gone.
The Usurper continued to glare at her, fuming, but it was so strange. He had no intention of actually hurting her. He was confused, lost. Linarra wasn't sure how she knew that, she just did. She felt his rage too, just bubbling under the surface of his impish facade.
"You're...not what I expected," she said, tired of just sitting there terrified.
His brow rose. "No? What did you expect?"
She shrugged. The books never spoke of his appearance. They just called him a beast. The enemy. "A monster," she finally replied.
He laughed and she felt his amusement. She felt it in her bones. Something else too. Hurt. It hurt him, what she said. Linarra frowned, puzzling over it. Maybe it was her imagination. Maybe she was in shock.
"So sorry to disappoint. Shall I grow horns? Perhaps a tail!" He snorted, rolling his eyes.
It was all so wrong. Sitting there, in the remains of the Brotherhood's sacrifices to the Usurper, talking with him as though they were schoolmates. The entire world felt upside down. She wanted to leave, breathe the fresh air. Find Veshier. Something. Maybe he would know what to do.
As she got to her feet, she sliced her palm on one of the many rocks that were strewn on the floor of the cavern. Hissing between her teeth, she cradled her injured hand as blood welled in the palm.
She looked down at the Usurper, expecting him to rise, to stop her from leaving, but instead, he sat there still, staring agog at his own hand. As she watched, blood, black as night, dripped between his fingers and hissed to the cavern floor.
"What is the meaning of this," he muttered, horrified. She felt it. His disgust, his confusion.
In a dizzy rush, he was on his feet, grasping her uninjured hand. "Apologies in advance," he said with zero sincerity. He drew his sharp nail across her palm, slicing it open. Linarra cried out in surprise and pain.
Sahimul showed her his hand. There, appearing on his palm, was a long cut, dripping with his black blood. "This is unacceptable," he told her.
Eyes wide, she watched it all unfold, horror making her feel sick, cold. "We're...bonded," she whispered. "Somehow."
They locked eyes. She wanted to look away, but found she couldn't. It felt just the same with him as it had with Veshier. Some unspoken longing. Desperation. A connectedness she didn't want. "You did this," she accused.
He snarled at her. "Why would I DO this? I don't want to be 'bonded' with you! I hate you!"
He was lying. He didn't know her. He just said it to hurt her. And it did, it did hurt even though it shouldn't have. "What do we do?" she asked, panic making her head hurt, her heart race.
Before he could answer, there was a shuffling sound at the entrance to the cavern and more torchlight filled the chamber.
"Master!" called a male voice in jubilation. Linarra could see a man in dark robes and a wicked, curved dagger in hand. Several more hooded, robed figures stood behind him, readying their way into the cavern.
Sahimul spun around, in front of her, shielding her from view. Already, he took the role of Guardian without knowing it. This was more than some terrible accident. Linarra would be killed for this, she knew. The Temple would come for her. The Mother Herself would strike her dead for her terrible blasphemy. And Veshier...
She had no time to think. The Brotherhood filled the chamber of the cavern.
"Master, you've awakened!" They all dropped their torches and dropped prostrate before him, kneeling, bowing and scraping, some of them weeping in adulation.
Through their unholy bond, Linarra could feel Sahimul's revulsion. He didn't want their worship.
"Yes...that's right," he said. "I want to know who did this?" he gestured with a wide sweep of his arm. "All this...sacrifice?" He walked around, observing the handiwork of the Brotherhood.
Sahimul stooped and held a small skull in his hand. He frowned deeply at it. "A child?" he asked.
"Yes, Master. We hope our sacrifices please you," the first man said.
"Blood in your name!" came another voice.
In a blinding fury so powerful it made Linarra gasp, Sahimul slung the skull, dashing it against the rock wall. "Why would I want any of that?! What good does that do me? Why would I be pleased by the death of children?!"
Linarra watched with wide eyes as he paced in front of his trembling, fearful worshippers. Sahimul let out a dramatic sigh, and helped the man who'd entered the chamber to his feet, dusting off his robes.
"Give me your clothes," he told him. "There's a chill in the air and while I'm sure you're enjoying the sight, I'd rather not be naked. I'm a little disappointed you didn't offer it and I had to -ask-."
The man, young and well-fed, not like most of the people she'd seen on the Path, stripped out of his clothing with lightning speed until he stood before the Usurper stark naked.
Sahimul dressed, first in a pair of black wool trousers that were too long for him, soft leather boots and a plain, black tunic. He didn't put the robe on and dropped it to the floor.
"Fantastic," the Usurper muttered.
The man smiled at him stupidly, hands clasped in front of him, clearly waiting for his 'master' to praise him. Instead, Sahimul grabbed him by the throat and slammed him into the rock wall. Over and over. The man screamed and fought, but Sahimul was far stronger. The remaining Brotherhood scattered, running, pushing each other, trying to escape through the narrow opening.
Sahimul didn't stop the assalt until the man's head was mush, a blood ruin. When he was at last satisfied, he let the body drop, wiping his hands on the robe he'd discarded earlier. The rest of the Brotherhood had fled in the wake of his wrath. Linarra could only stare dumbfounded.
He turned to face her. "Why would I want dead children? Women with large bossoms fawning over me. Something good to eat. Better clothes! That would all have been acceptable. Did they even TRY to free me? Idiots!" he shouted, stalking towards her, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger.
"Humans are idiots," he told her. "You're an idiot."
"I know," she whimpered. "I didn't even want to do this. I didn't want to be a Priestess. They forced me. My parents...High Priestess Liriel-"
He closed his eyes, wincing as though she'd struck him. "Don't," he warned. "Say that name to me. Not ever again."
She had a thousand questions. All of which she was too afraid to ask.
"Now...to find a way out of this," he told her, giving her head a little shake. He didn't let go. He stared down at her, curious. "I can't kill you," he murmured. "How long do these 'bonds' last? I can wait. I can wait until you're an old, ugly wrinkled woman."
It was her turn to smirk. "Forever. Past death."
"Liar," he snapped, sneering in her face.
"You know I'm not lying. You can feel it," she shot back.
They stayed there, staring at each other. Linarra didn't want to pull away, she even found herself relaxing a little. His proximity was a strange comfort. All the work of the bond they now shared.
"Unhand the Priestess," came a harsh, cry.
As Sahimul turned, she saw him. Linarra saw Veshier, bedraggled, but battle ready at the entrance to the cavern, his sword in his hands.