Her dreams were haunted by the past and by the previous, though inadvertent, dalliance with the Usurper. She couldn't stop thinking about it even though she wanted to. She tried to focus on Veshier's face. She loved him, after all. Linarra thought of his face when he'd kissed her in the abandoned house.
But every time, his blonde hair bled to red and his eyes were no longer covered, but burning lamps that scorched her raw. She told herself it was the bond, that it wasn't because there was actual attraction. And, if there was? It was because he made to be beautiful. The most beautiful thing in the all the world. To deceive. To trick.
Satisfied with her mental gymnastics, Linarra splashed her face with cold water from the pond and looked around her campsite. Sahimul was nowhere to be seen, but she could feel him close. The temple, she thought. He was there. His emotions seemed muddled and unpleasant, but she brushed that aside. She didn't want to linger in this place where time didn't seem to flow naturally. Even though she wasn't entirely sure where they should go, she didn't think it was safe to remain there, where the Brotherhood could uncover them at any moment.
It was only a short walk to the temple. It was a small edifice. Only a room, really. Made of white stone marble veined with gold, pink and red roses grew all over the building, up the columns. Inside, it was lit with torches. There was a tall statue of what she assumed was the Usurper. Again, not at all monstrous. It showed him seated, smiling softly and playing a lute surrounded by sculpted roses. It must have been done when he was still an Aspect of the Mother.
The Aspect of Love. She could hardly believe it, but seeing the sculpture of him, the romantic nature of his temple, she started to think maybe it was true after all.
The Usurper himself stood in front of an altar, his head bowed. It was an elaborate altar, set with stone roses and jewels and gold accents. Beautiful, like everything in the temple. On the altar itself was...
Linarra squinted, peering closely. It was hard to see in the dim, flicking light and with Sahimul largely blocking the view. It was a body. A very decayed body, just dry bones, wearing a long, white silk gown. Sahimul looked down at it with a shattered expression. He was whispering to it.
"Wh-who is that?" she stammered, unable to stop herself. She was too curious.
His head snapped up, eyes red rimmed. He'd been weeping. Face reddened, scowling, almost snarling, his expression was so fearful that Linarra took several steps back, mumbling apologies, but the anger drained away and he shrugged, waving her closer.
"This, he said," voice low, soft. "Is your Prophet."
Stunned, Linarra didn't know what to say. All of the teachings, the Path, everything went back to this one woman. The scripture spoke of her as true, noble, brave and pure. It never said what Ishahn was like. What were her dreams? Her favorite color? What made her laugh? What made her cry?
Scripture said that the Usurper, in a final, violent act of hate, destroyed her body as he was being sealed. Obviously, that wasn't entirely true. She found she could rely less and less on scripture.
"Did you know her?" Linarra asked, staring in reverence and a strange, hollow sadness at the body of the Prophet, thousands of years dead.
Sahimul nodded. "Yes. She was a wonder," he told Linarra.
She could hardly believe what she was hearing. He said it with such reverence. Even now, as he gazed down on her remains, his expression was soft and wistful, maybe even sad.
"The brightest star," he said. "The kindest soul." He smiled crookedly before looking at Linarra again. "You follow the best woman that ever lived," he told her sincerely.
Stammering, Linarra couldn't even find the words to say. She was touched by his fondness for the Prophet, even if she didn't really understand it. "I'm not worthy to," she blurted. "Everyone said so. Veshier too."
The Usurper shrugged. "I don't see why you're not. You just think you're not. She wasn't as special as you think. She just believed she could do all these things. So she did. She was as ordinary as you. And so the things she did? Even more extraordinary."
If only the scriptures had said things like that, she thought, tears filling her eyes. Or if her parents had told her that. Anyone. It hurt so much her chest ached. No one had ever believed in her -except- for the Destroyer of the World. She didn't know how to feel about it.
It made her a little angry. "Why did you kill her then?" she spat, glaring at him, suddenly annoyed by his soft feelings. They didn't make sense!
He scowled right back. She could feel the rise and swell of his fury. "I don't know why I bother telling you anything. You're head must be full of holes. Everything just falls out of it! Believe what you want! It was -her-. It was Ishahn that hurt ME!" he howled. "I should have never trusted her. She betrayed me. When I needed her most."
Linarra hated that she believed him. She hated that her question had hurt him and that she could feel it. His hands curled into tight fists and against her common sense, her hand snapped out and her fingers curled around his forearm. Not to restrain him. To comfort.
He looked startled and almost jerked away from her. Instead, they both seemed caught in some invisible web they couldn't see, or intentions they couldn't understand. "I'm sorry," she murmured.
It disarmed him and he dropped his gaze. "No need. You've been lied to. Your entire life. I know you can't believe me. And you probably shouldn't," he said, tone wry. "I am...all the things you've read. I've done despicable things. I'm not sorry, either." He met her gaze this time, challenge in his. Stubborn pride.
The little permissions, she told herself, her hand sliding up his arm. Patting him. Comforting him. Him letting her.
"I want to help you," she said, unable to hide the longing in her voice. She did, earnestly.
But she didn't know why. Was it her own stubborn pride? None could call her weak or useless if she redeemed the Usurper. If she did the impossible thing. She didn't know how she would, she only believed that she could. Sahimul had told her that was the key, hadn't he? That's how Ishahn had been.
He grinned at her. "Help me? That's probably a terrible idea."
She laughed a little. "I'm certain it is. I don't think I have a lot of options."
"Not with that tattle tale on the way to the Temple to rat you out," he told her.
He wasn't wrong. Veshier would arrive back at the Temple in four to five days. She knew he would. He would run on spite and rage alone.
"We shouldn't linger here, though I'd like to," he told her. "Wouldn't it be nice? Just you and I, forever?"
It was a strange thing to say, and she narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you trying to tempt me? I'm not sure I'd even want that."
He shrugged again. "I don't know. Maybe I'm trying to tempt myself. Imagine being me. You go outside your bubble and everyone hates you and actively tries to destroy you. Wouldn't you want to stay?"
"Fair," she conceded.
"Were you tempted?" he pressed.
She huffed out a breath and looked away. "Maybe," she answered truthfully. It was pointless to lie when he could feel she was lying.
"We should eat and leave. There's an easy way out of this valley that no one knows about save me. And we'd best hurry. We don't have much time."
Frowning, Linarra followed after him as he left the Temple. "What do you mean? You aren't really going to...Destroy the world are you? I thought we were trying to redeem you."
"Oh, not on purpose. It's just...something that will happen. It already started. The moment I was freed."
#
Sahimul explained as they ate fish he'd caught.
"I took flesh after the Elves were created. Made myself look like them. I found them beautiful and wanted to walk with them. Know them. What better way than to experience life as they did? The Mother saw no harm and granted me this body. Unlike you or elves, I don't hunger or need to sleep. I'm not sure I can be destroyed. It has certainly been tried," he told her with a smug grin.
"I traveled the world for many, many decades. I walked and talked with every creation, from dwarf to elf to human. Dragons. All those long gone," he said with a sigh. "But I wanted to create too. Why wouldn't I? Nothing is more sublime than creation."
He stared into the fire as he related his tale to her. It was an entire missing book of scripture, she thought. "So I created. I made beautiful things. Three of them. I called them Angels. The Mother didn't...appreciate my creation. It was part of a series of things She called my rebellion. To punish me, to teach me a lesson, She warped them. They are now dark Angels. Harbingers. Ishahn sealed them away before...before sealing me. When I wake, so do they."
"What will they do?" Linarra asked, eyes wide.
He shook his head, not looking at her. He felt ashamed. She could feel it, like second hand embarrassment through the bond. "Not entirely certain. But they're mad. All of them crazy and in constant agony. I can't imagine they'll do anything good. Originally, at least according to my first worshippers, THEY were the Destroyers. Not me."
"What will we do then?" Linarra asked, alarmed.
"Destroy them first. Only I can. If Ishahn could only seal them, then only I can destroy them. It would be a kindness, besides."
He fell into silence after that and the sun blazed high over head. Noon. Or just a little past it. She wanted to question him more. Couldn't they, she wondered, just stay a little longer?
"It's just...all so different," she said, frowning.
"Different than what?"
"Than everything I was taught. Maybe...the scriptures are wrong. About you."
In that moment, she was utterly dazzled. The sun shone on him, his beautiful face. He smiled when she said that and his teeth were teasing, sharp points behind his lips. Lips she wanted to kiss again. The thoughts just jumped into her mind, without her wanting them to. He didn't need to seduce her, she felt as though she were seducing herself with thoughts of him.
He frowned at her. "Again? Stop thinking about Veshier," he told her. "You're love sick and stupid. It's annoying."
"I wasn't," she insisted sourly, busying herself with folding and unfolding her old cloak, debating on taking it with her or not.
"I can feel it," he told her, wagging a finger at her. "And leave that. It's disgusting," he said about the cloak.
"I wasn't and we might need it. Things are not as you remember them, I assure you," she snapped at him, annoyed that her private thoughts were no longer completely private.
They stood in unison, to argue. To go. She wasn't sure why. They nearly bumped heads. She glowered at him, annoyed too. Annoyed that she felt...unseemly things about him. "You can't just assume everything will be a flower laden path. I did. That was stupid and nearly killed me."
He leaned down, right in her face. "I can do things, you realize. I have abilities."
The close proximity, his breath on her face, she didn't mean to lean in, dreamy eyed, heart pounding, but she did. She wanted to kiss him. Or wanted him to kiss her. Either way.
The irritation bled away from his face. "I see," he told her, voice a low rumble. "You were thinking of me," he asserted, smug, but not unaffected. "Why not say so? Hmm?"
"It's unnatural. Without the bond, I wouldn't," she protested, unable to tear herself away.
He shook his head. "I don't believe that."
It was one sided, just as it was with Veshier. She couldn't help her attraction and now he would make fun of her for it and not return it. Which was good, but also stung.
"Believe whatever you want," she said, parroting what he'd said to her earlier.
Sahimul caught it and laughed, amused, but he corked his own laughter by kissing her. It was a rough kiss, passionate, almost mean-spirited. It hurt. His teeth raked her bottom lip. His hands grabbed and pinched at her hips, dragging her against him.
In the Usurper's Valley, the air scented with rose blossoms and the wind cool against the warm sunshine, it seemed the most natural thing in the world to kiss him. It was all a hazy, beautiful dream. The kiss softened, no longer hurting. He moaned against her mouth.
It startled her, his sound of pleasure. She had assumed he kissed her to humiliate her again. She hadn't thought of him enjoying it. It only made things worse. She felt possessed, devouring his kisses, running her hands over his chest, clutching at him, breathless and dizzy with desire.
She broke the kiss, but not because she wanted to. "Oh...oh we can't," she said, hating that it had to be. Needing it to be that way simultaneously.
He mmm'd against her cheek. "We can, I assure you," he told her, whispering in her ear. "And no one need know, if you're embarassed."
It stole her words. He wasn't embarrassed? He was the dirty secret?
"You can still redeem me," he continued, his hands roaming, squeezing. "It might help," he said.
"I want to," she confessed. It was strange. How easy he was to confess things to. Maybe it was because in thinking he was the worst, he wouldn't, or couldn't, judge her.
He seemed delighted by her confession, kissing her throat. "Oh yes. I want to as well. We should then. Since we agree."
Linarra imagined what it would be like, laying with him. It was more than she could bear. It made her want it too much. She knew, without knowing, that he would be an excellent lover. Of course he would. He wouldn't be Temptation otherwise.
She thought of Ishahn and wondered if that were the temptation she faced. If Sahimul had kissed the Prophet in a flower filled vale, his hands deliberate and slow, his kisses sweet.
Certain the Prophet hadn't given in, Linarra more firmly pushed him away. He stumbled back a little, looking stunned and hurt. "We can't," she said, her voice stony. Cold. It didn't make her want him less.
"Fine," he said, tone snappish. "Have it your way. We'll leave, I suppose. The exit is in the opposite direction of the mountain." He gestured vaguely to the South.
It was hard to think straight or breathe, but she managed, nodding. "Right. You lead the way."
He started walking, clearly angry. Hurt. Annoyed. "I'd want to without the bond," he told her offhandedly as they walked. "You don't believe that. But I would."
She didn't say anything and glared at his back, the swish of his hair which he'd tied into a low tail to keep it out of the way.
"Veshier was blind in -several- ways," he told her. "If it weren't for your brain washing, I'd have you, Little Priestess."
It made her face flame scarlet. "Stop calling me 'little'. You're not much taller than me!"
"But you like it. When I call you that. Because you like -me-." He walked with a spring in his step, his voice musical and taunting again.
She didn't answer. Linarra wasn't sure how she felt. He was so different than she thought he'd be. He was...complicated. Which made everything more difficult. She wished he were a monster so she could hate him and vanquish him. Now? She didn't think she could. Redemption...was it even possible? Linarra didn't know.
"I like you too, Little Priestess," he said. "For what it's worth."
Rolling her eyes, she kept following after him.