Dragon (S)Layers: The Paladin Gambit

by Tammy Silverwolf

  She scampered behind Isira casting uneasy glances around the massive room and occasionally to the goddess Herself as She followed behind at Her own pace. Gods what a dumb choice she'd made following Isira. For her vision, she'd lose her freedom? Was it really worth it? Another brief glance from the goddess reminded her that her thoughts were an open book to her patron. The goddess smiled a glassy reassuring grin.

  Leslie was anything but reassured.

  They padded across the platform into an only slightly narrower cave braced by what appeared to be tubular steel trusses that formed rows of supports leading through the rock itself. Unlike the landing platform, the 'hallway,' such as it was, joined the rock walls at the base but remained no less open; impossibly so, considering the size of the mountain Leslie had seen.

  Putting aside the paradoxical nature of her surroundings, the haze of magic became thicker and thicker the further they walked, it was almost suffocating by the time they entered another chamber with a sharply angular roof and pillars punctuating it every few dozen feet. The pointed part of the ceiling was braced by more of the trusses and a stair case ended a corner of the room only to disappear into solid rock a few steps down.

  The room was choked with all manner of magical items categorized and hung from the ceiling like display pieces in some anally retentive spider's web. Weapons dangled next to pouches and crystals, beside and behind them were rows of backpacks and more than a few brooms that were trying to sweep the floor just out of reach. The centerpiece of this bizarre soup of magical energy was an odder sight still.

  In the middle of the room sat a low slung rectangular metal structure vaguely akin to a carriage with wheels made of metal and some kind of black leathery material. Its strangely curved windows were inserted so carefully into the frame they were nearly indistinguishable from the frame if not for the glow of purple light from the crystal that had lanced the vehicle's roof and buried itself in the riding compartment. The crystal was as long and thick as Leslie's entire body, radiating an incredibly powerful hum that tickled every sense she had and made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

  The sphinx plodded by casually without comment but Isira glanced at it and a brief flicker of recognition swept her features-- whether because of the strange vehicle or the crystal, Leslie couldn't tell.

  The sphinx turned slightly, ruffling his wings loose before he motioned to an offshoot of the chamber. Isira prowled beside him with her hand occasionally brushing through his mane. As they approached the smaller chamber Leslie's heart sank a little. A slat cut into the rock left an opening for a waist high bar and gave her a glimpse at a fully stocked kitchen made of some kind of polished metal. Jars of varying sizes filled the shelves marked in a language Leslie had never seen before, oddly the same one on the billboards and even the side of the vehicle.

  Isira leaned forward on the counter, peeking in. It wasn't just the sphinx's gaze drawn to Her perfectly curved butt, especially not when Her slip dress slid aside daring to reveal more of Her leg. Another inch and it would have left little to the imagination. . . The sphinx looked back at Leslie with a smug, knowing grin.

  “I trust you can cook?” He said to Isira without regarding Her directly.

  “Well, I suppose I could. . . .asking so politely how could I say no?”

  The sphinx flashed a wicked grin and plodded off towards a door at the end of the hallway where a door opened up for him before he got near it. Seconds later she could hear some pleased humming coming from the open doorway. Leslie didn't think about it-- she ran for her goddess and grabbed Her arm.

  “We need to go!”

  “Why would I want to do that?” She plucked a green bottle from behind the counter and, seemingly from nothing, drew up a shot glass. She pulled the stopper on the bottle and poured herself a drink. “We've had to work quite hard to get here and,” She cast a glance at the door he'd disappeared into, “I did mention we were here for a purpose, did I not?”

  “Y- Wait.” It clicked. “Wait, this was part of the plan?!” A smug grin was the goddess's retort. Leslie felt like she was going to throw up. “When were you going to tell me?! I thought I was-- okay, but-- but I thought we were supposed to be partners in this--”

  Isira booped her on the nose, downed a drink and smiled.

  “You're drunk. . . .you're seriously drunk?”

  “If only I was drunk enough.” The buxom woman tossed back another. “I had thought he'd display it proudly, the sniveling little tart.” She reached for the bottle again.

  Leslie grabbed her hand, “Hey, yeah. Uh. I don't want to crash your party but I don't have eternity to--”

  Isira's eyes flashed a suddenly dangerous visage. Leslie drew back but it was far too late. Her patron's voice was like silver and steel. “This has little to do with you. We'll find the armor, you'll get the armor and be a big hero. . . .but right now I want to relax.”

  “F- Forgive me, uh. . . Sorry.”

  “Tsk, tsk, tsk.” She finished her drink, slid the bottle to the side and eased Herself into Leslie's personal space. “Impress me.”

  “I--”

  The sphinx emerged from his chamber triumphantly, “Found it!” He had an apron slung across his back with some kind of embroidery on it. As he got closer it became more evident; a pair of lips pouted out, some more of that strange writing and something that looked like a meat puck with grill marks on it. “For the lady of the house!” He announced proudly.

  Isira plucked it from his back gently and held it up, then looked at him with a brow arched. “Kiss the meat? Aren't you a little old for puerile humor?”

  He gave her a smug grin.

  “Apparently little's changed since the last paladin crossed your path..”

  “Only my fondness for them,” the sphinx gave her a vague catty smile before he turned his attention on Leslie. “Now, come along!”

  Leslie shared a look with her patron and, getting a dry smile in return, she followed behind her captor uneasily. That was, right up to the point where they came to another small treasure room. Her curiosity quickly turned to awe as she gazed upon lavish outfits made of silk, cotton and a hundred other fabrics she could only guess at. They gleamed with gold trim and lace filling the room with an amber glow, each outfit could have been worth a king's ransom on its own. . .

  Then she saw the musical instruments. Hundreds of them strewn about the room haphazardly in every state of disrepair imaginable. Many of them were the kind of thing Leslie had never seen before but some of them she recognized, a flute-- though the silver accents on it seemed out of place and strange-- and a thing that she'd read about in an old adventurer's log. It was beautifully ornate and absolutely massive, meant to be worn around a person's body with a huge horn opening that sat near the musician's shoulder, a 'toobah' it'd been called in the books. Most of them were probably wind instruments from the mouthpieces that littered the ground around them. “Wow--”

  He lead her in deeper, smiling all the while. “Try to contain your excitement!” The powerful sphinx strolled around her, deliberately brushing her side with his silky furred body. “Enjoy the hospitality until I decide what is to become of you--”

  Leslie startled out of her fugue, “N- Hold on!” But it was too late, the door closed behind him and latched shut. She braced her hands on the door, shouting a curse that went ignored. She turned and slumped against the door, clutching her head in her hands. Gods could things have gone any more wrong?

  Some paladin. Some fucking champion of faith. David had been right, she was never going to amount to anything, she couldn't handle life without him as it was, and now. . . And now a deity had dumped Her faith in her and she couldn't even do that right. One simple thing! Get the armor and get out!

  Leslie let out a long sigh and hugged her legs to her chest, looking at the room over her knees. She should have been grateful she could see this sight, but all she wanted to know was how fast she could get away from it. She sighed.

  Fat lot o
f good she was doing feeling sorry for herself, though. Leslie hauled herself up with the familiar aches of her body, casting a wary glance about. Strangely, the haze on her mind had lifted considerably. She actually felt human again. Maybe it was metal door or some kind of warding or something.

  Leslie glanced at the door and smoothed out her dress before she started rifling through the clothes looking for a hidden exit, hoping against hope something was concealed behind them, once between the fabrics she noticed a faint pull of magic.

  She carefully fished for the source amongst the clothing, getting several scratches from heavy ornaments along the way. When she finally managed to pinpoint the source of the tingle she frowned. Tossed amongst the lavish displays of wealth sat a bundle of tawny velvet as plush as any cloud could have hoped to be, the dozen yards or so worth of magic fabric showed signs of neglect and had a very faint must to it, but the magic was undeniable.

  It was a heavy feeling against her new senses that alluded to what the magic might have been-- where as the onyx had been wispy and airy, this was thick, heavy and inviting. Even holding it made Leslie vaguely tired but she fingered the cloth for a few moments as she looked at the rest of the clothing.

  Everything in the room was specifically human oriented with long dresses trimmed with exotic riches and tunics designed to project an air of authority and power. . . .nobility oriented, in fact. Barring the occasional loin cloth trying to pass as dancer's attire. Leslie turned the velvet over in her hands. Given everything she knew of the sphinx, he was an arrogant one and yet none of this was for him. Why didn't he have something in here if it was just a closet?

  She trailed her finger through the plush, focusing her attention on the sensation it produced until she was sure it wasn't just a fluke. When she pushed on it, the magic responded like leavened dough, parting and reforming anew and forming silky strands in her mind like the haze from the rest of the building. It was something she was quickly coming to associate with magical energy, a power that had a tangible effect and could be manipulated. . .

  Manipulated.

  Like she had been.

  The seamstress eyed the bolt of fabric with new appreciation as an idea started to form.

  #

  “Hey!” Leslie slammed on the door some hours later. “Hey, someone!”

  “That's not the magic word!” Isira said lightly. She sounded close. Leslie frowned. “Oh, come now. Sullenness does not suit you!”

  “Can I come out now? You know, if I promise to behave?”

  There was some soft murmuring before the sphinx's voice rumbled, “You forgot the magic word.”

  Isira giggled.

  “Please? Maybe?” Leslie glanced at her project, dampened her lips and waited. “May I please come out? I'm not going to run. . .”

  “Now why don't I believe you?”

  “Well, let me ask you this: are you cold down here? Because I'm freezing and I know I'd prefer to be warm and stylish as opposed to one or the other.” She waited a beat to let it sink in and draw his interest. “I found some fabric in here, enough that I can make you something fitting your. . . .exceptional physique.”

  Silence.

  “I get bored easily!” she lied, “It was better to do something with my time than--” She cut herself off when the door unlatched and started to open. Isira was leaning against the sphinx with her arm around his shoulders in the way Leslie had seen hookers dangle off prospective clients. In her other hand was a wine glass full to the brim with red wine. Her eyes were warm and inviting, even now. . . It wasn't hard to see how he'd been so taken with Her.

  The haze from the building's magic rushed over her in the next instant, muddling her thoughts in an instant and making it hard to focus. Leslie willed the fog away but it clung to her tightly, still she held to the wall and motioned back. “Uh, come in?”

  “Go on, then. . .” The sphinx ruffled his feathers lazily, giving Leslie a faint smile. “Impress me, artist, for time slows little while the pedals of once vibrant youth grey and wilt during our processes.”

  “That's rather pretentious.” Isira chided lightly as Leslie lead them in to the mock up she had made of the sphinx's body. Draped over it was a loose swath of velvet with pattern markings depicting where his wings would fit-- ornamentation she'd stolen from some gowns gave the chest area its own golden aegis, while a strip down the back accented the wing holes. All of it was held together by an easy to remove sash from a wine colored military uniform.

  The two immortals looked at the rough 'sketch' of an outfit and then shared a look. When the sphinx's gaze turned to her, Leslie tensed. His proud, eternally youthful features contorted slightly before he spoke in a soft voice she wouldn't have expected. “Can we do something about the 'belt'?”

  “Ah, sure. There are other clothes I can take things from. . .”

  “Silver would suit me better,” he tapped a claw on the aegis. “And contrast better.”

  “It would.” She agreed. “But I didn't have any here. . .”

  The feline creature gazed at her a moment and, seeming having made up his mind he brushed past her, leaving the door open as he disappeared into a side room. The two women waited for a moment in silence before Isira gave her a warm smile.

  Leslie frowned. “You can leave at any time, can't you?”

  “And miss this? Good conversation is increasingly hard to find, as are good drinks.” She smiled as She took a pull from her wine glass. “Would you like some?”

  “No, but if it's not too much to ask, maybe wiggle your nose and we appear outside? Is that too much to ask for?”

  “Noooo, I don't think so.” The pleasure goddess purred, eying the outfit thoughtfully. She stole another sip and went about moving some of the decorations around. “He'll like this, I think! You have a great eye for shapes--”

  “Don't you mean you do? I mean, these are yours after all, right?” She motioned to her eyes.

  Isira looked at her. “Don't. You would look beautiful with your lips like that in any other situation, but you're terrible at pouting! You take it entirely too seriously! Relax!” She threw an arm around Leslie's shoulder, leaning against her. “How long will it take to finish?”

  “Relax?! Gods, I-- I mean.” She sighed. How did one argue with a god? Their patron deity, especially. Leslie wiped her face, cupping her mouth and eying the outfit. “Maybe a few days? Not like I can do much else around here. . .”

  “Perfect.”

  Just as she was about to ask what Isira meant, the sphinx strode in with a leather bundle tucked against his wing. Leslie took it and unfurled it. “Holy shit--” she gawked at the contents. “You could buy a country with all this silver. . .”

  “All this conjunction over metals! It gets so tedious, but who am I to change the minds of mortals, woe! Woe be unto higher minds constrained by such basic motivators.” He gave Leslie a cheeky smirk. “Will that do?”

  “Uh-- Uh, yes?” She licked her lips. “I mean, of course, I'll get started at once-- but I'll need a needle and some thread--”

  “I'll get it for you, worry not, my precious dove.” He nudged her with his wing. “Would you like some food, too?”

  “I-- Yes?”

  “Good. What's the magic word?” He waggled his brow at her.

  Isira groaned theatrically. “Come now, really?”

  “I-- I don't know?”

  “You'd better find out, then!” He started to turn, brushing against her thigh with his tail. “Its been around for eternity and is ever with queens, but 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!”