by S D Simper
Flowridia stood up, jostling Demitri and Ana, the crisp morning air cutting through the lost warmth of her bed. Too ashamed to cry to Casvir—not over this; not again; she’d cried a thousand times before—she managed to stammer, “I need to be alone,” before a gasping sob stole her words. She ran into the woods.
Nighttime left lingering whispers. Among the cheery songs of birds were the hooting of owls and skittering insects. With each step, leaves crunched, and the light of morning slowly rose up behind her.
She fell to her knees with a furious cry, crushing a patch of fresh daisies. The gentle blossoms responded to her touch, the life within singing to her senses. She shook as she reached out to stroke those perfect petals. So soft, as perfect as the skin beneath her fingers—
Flowridia ripped them away, rage tearing from her throat as she crumpled the delicate petals between her hands. Another cry as she stood, stumbling back and nearly falling at the sudden rush of blood. A shuddering breath left her as she rested her hand against the bark of an ancient tree. Purple, swirling like mist, emanated from her hand unwittingly, and she watched in horror as the tree blackened and rotted beneath her fingers.
But the strength she drew was intoxicating. Staring at her hands, she set them back against the withered tree and absorbed every ounce of its life, reveling in the consumed energy. Her body ignited with pleasure; her head swam.
But she could not hold it. Flowridia screamed, energy ripping out of her as the forest crumbled and withered, life tearing away from all the trees and brush surrounding her. She felt pain as insects were crushed into dust, as birds perished, decaying under the purple fog covering her vision.
She sobbed, her soul sickened yet drunk off the exhilaration from the burst of energy. The forest, blackened and ruined, cried testament to the power of her rage, her sorrow, her loneliness.
As she knelt, her tears dripping onto the decayed ground, a cautious voice managed to weave its way into her mind. Mom, let me help you.
Startled, Flowridia looked up to see Demitri watching quietly from beyond the edge of the charred scenery. His gentle gaze held no judgement. Will you let me come forward?
She managed a nod and let her face fall back into her hands. Soon, she felt Demitri’s enormous bulk pressing against her, and she wrapped her arms around him, sobbing into his fur. She managed three words: “I miss her.”
And that’s okay.
Her grip tightened. “I hate her.”
That’s okay, too.
Dangerous words left her throat. “I still love her.”
This time, Demitri did not respond, but his body curled around her, engulfing her almost entirely in his fur. Encompassed by his form and freed from the words once threatening to drown her, Flowridia felt some peace return to her soul.
“What do I do, Demitri?” she said, but only after her tears dried.
That choice is yours. But I’ll support you. And I don’t think you have to decide anything yet.
Flowridia sniffed, pulling away from the tear-drenched patch of fur. “When did I raise you to become so wise?”
I think it’s my job as a familiar.
All around Flowridia, the dead scenery spoke of her erratic crime. Guilt weighed upon her as she pulled from his embrace. “I don’t understand what happened,” she whispered. “Necromancy comes from nothingness. This was different, and that scares me.”
I don’t know either. But it’s nothing we can’t figure out together.
With one hand gripping his fur, she allowed him to lead her through the decaying patch of land and through the forest.
Back at camp, Ana immediately bounded towards her. She caught the little fox, bombarded by affection, and kissed her jaw before looking to Casvir. He stood at her return. “I have only one request for you: Do not wander off alone again.”
Flowridia frowned as she pulled the creature into a tight embrace. “And why?”
His voice grew quiet. “Because we are being followed.”
She stiffened. “She’s still here?”
“Something different. I should have told you, but I did not wish to worry you. You have trouble sleeping as it is.”
Flowridia stepped toward him, eyes narrowing. “Who?”
“A small party from the Theocracy of Sol Kareena. They would not dare approach when I am nearby, but I worry they could overwhelm you.”
“But why?” she whispered, slowly looking out into the scenery around them. Trees covered the surrounding area, birdsong sang in her ears, but there was no sign of life beyond that.
“I suppose I do not know for certain. But I have no wish to find out.”
Flowridia looked out into the woods, the beginnings of a terribly foolish plan blooming in her head. “We could orchestrate this.” When Casvir said nothing, she continued. “You would watch the entire time but imagine if we give them the chance to strike. You and Demitri could leave me alone and let me wander for a while.” She swallowed, her virulent emotions having barely abated. “With all the unanswerable questions in my life, let me have this, at least.”
“No.”
He matched the challenge in her gaze. “Why?”
“Your safety is written in your contract.”
“You would be watching.”
“No,” Casvir repeated, darker than before. Flowridia bristled at the word, wondering a moment what was stopping her from simply running off herself.
The answer came from an unexpected voice in her head. He’s right.
Flowridia turned her frown onto Demitri, who she easily faced eye to eye.
You don’t owe the Theocracy your company—
“It isn’t about owing anyone anything!” she cried, then immediately reeled herself back, biting back her own fury. “I simply want to understand.”
“Grab your spear,” Casvir said, ignoring her words. “We will discuss your plan tonight—discuss. And only if you impress me with your footwork.”
With the incentive of finding answers, Flowridia realized she had never done so well—she even earned a ruffle to her sweat-laden hair.
* * *
All day, they rode in stark silence, and Flowridia wondered how Casvir could sense the other group’s presence. But she kept her eyes peeled for any signs of life, beyond the birds and rodents scattering from Casvir’s company.
When evening fell, Flowridia’s annoyance had blown away like the breeze.
She ate her dinner as Ana playfully bounced around their small camp, flickering light illuminating her white bones. Flowridia’s hand touched upon the dead creatures she had idly raised—two rabbits, both in various states of decay—and dared to breach the subject again.
With finesse.
“Is your history with the Theocracy a long one?”
Casvir looked up from his book. “You mean to ask why they hate us?”
Flowridia nodded.
“We stand at many moral odds. For a necromancer like myself to rule an entire country hardly endears us to them. We exploit the undead to do menial labor, and even if it allows my citizens the freedom to pursue their own endeavors, the Theocracy views necromancy as the ultimate evil use of magic. They would rather force their own to toil in the fields for generations than look for an alternative source of labor. Furthermore, my expansive trade empire values monetary gain above all, and they deem the cost of becoming a citizen absolute blasphemy. They do not look kindly upon so-called ‘false gods.’”
“I suppose you employing the ‘Scourge of the Sun Elves’ didn’t do much to endear you to them either,” Flowridia said, bitterness in the words. She recalled Lord Ashwood, the confrontation at the ball wherein he insulted Ayla and earned he and his comrades a painful death. “In exchange for the orb the Archbishop carries, they asked for Ayla’s ear.”
“Fascinating. They value safety over power.”
“Channeling holy light into the ear burned her,” Flowridia said. “They would have given up a treasured artifact in exchange for her death.” She felt her hand instinctively dri
ft to the bony place between her breasts, just above her heart. “Would it have worked?”
“I cannot say. But the Theocracy of Sol Kareena could never have confronted her face to face, just as they could never destroy Nox’Kartha on the battlefield. So they turn to subterfuge, assassins, and trickery to try and fulfill their pursuits. Not a particularly righteous course, but I would never try and unravel their twisted morality.”
Flowridia’s hand gripped at the empty space, and she stared purposefully at the warming crystal. She nodded slowly, acknowledging his words, but refused to speak, unsure of the emotions swimming in her heart, threatening to pull her under, drown her.
What did it matter now? Ayla was dead. What use was there reminiscing on their attempt to kill her when their Goddess had succeeded for them?
She let her hand fall to her lap, the emotions settling into a swamp around her lonely heart. The world was better without Ayla.
“What troubles you?” Casvir asked.
“She was a monster only barely caged,” she whispered, echoing the very sentiment she had been told long ago. “And I still struggle to accept that.”
“Ayla always held her own agenda,” he said, ignoring her remark. “Perhaps she might have grown docile given a few more years in my service, but I do not think she would have ever been domesticated. Not by me.”
His choice of words unsettled her. The thought of Ayla kneeling before Casvir, content or not, always irked her, but to think of her purring happily by his side like a kitten? Even now, Ayla dead in her coffin, the thought made her blood boil.
Ayla would never willingly bow to anyone. Her stubborn hate defined her.
Yet, Ayla had once relinquished all her pride, pled for forgiveness she hadn’t deserved. She had pledged her love with a vulnerability unmatched, a memory Flowridia cherished and adored.
“You said yourself I tamed a monster,” Flowridia whispered, then she steeled her jaw. “Casvir, you speak often of my capabilities.”
“I do, and I mean it.”
Finesse and honesty could work in tandem. “The Theocracy has come to confront me.”
“You do not know if it is you they wish to see.”
“But who else could it be, Casvir? I can see this through; you know I can. I want to know what they could possibly want from me.”
Casvir’s severe gaze never relinquished, but Flowridia matched it, knowing he held the power to hold her captive should he choose to wield it. “Go, then.”
Flowridia stood up, each motion stiffly maneuvered as she kept her focus on Casvir. “You mean it?”
“I find myself protective of you; perhaps it has clouded my judgement. Keep your wits sharp. I will be watching, but there is no telling what tricks they might conjure.”
She knelt down and whispered to Ana. “Run. Toward the people if you know where they are. Don’t stop until I say ‘stop.’” Again, Ana bolted, and Flowridia ran after her.
The darkness dampened her vision, but Flowridia kept an easy eye on the stark white creature. “Ana, wait!” she cried, but Ana did not slow. Internally, she praised the little fox, wondering how one rewarded a skeleton for obedience. “Wait!”
Night creatures met her ears, and after several minutes, she slowed. “Stop!”
Ana froze. Flowridia sprinted to scoop her up. “Good girl,” she cooed, winded from exertion. She cradled the fox like a child and glanced about, senses on high alert as she absorbed the unfamiliar territory. The warming crystal was well behind them, and she hoped Casvir watched.
She could find her way back. Hopefully. She had no doubt Casvir would let her wander all night if the Theocracy didn’t show.
But being actually lost might be the best way to draw them out.
Flowridia took careful steps as she went toward where she thought her camp might be. A hooting owl stole her attention. She looked up, smiling at the golden eyes meeting her gaze. “Hello, friend.” The owl simply stared.
The trees were not so thick as to obscure the stars, and Flowridia marveled as she watched the twinkling lights, how they glittered through the leaves. The moon waned but still reflected some light, a grin across the night sky. The stars flashed like fangs below the gentle curve of the celestial rock. Flowridia let her sights fall back to earth and instead plucked a wilting daisy from a bush. In practiced motions, she braided the stem into her hair, comforted by the familiar ritual.
Rustling leaves caused her to stiffen. Flowridia swung around. A small rabbit skittered into a bush.
She placed Ana onto the ground. “Stay,” she instructed. Ana plopped her bony bottom down and watched, tail twitching as Flowridia approached the bush. “Hello, little one,” she said softly. Her growing influence on the living coaxed her to try a spell. Come forward. I mean you no harm.
A furry bundle emerged from the leaves, its simple mind falling to her influence. Flowridia offered a gentle hand and let the rabbit sniff her fingers. When it rubbed its soft head against her skin, Flowridia smiled at the trusting creature. You are an unexpected delight. Come join me.
The rabbit settled beside her. Flowridia’s fingers stroked its velvet fur. The breeze tickled the leaves and brushed at her hair, but a more concrete crunching stole her attention. She glanced back at Ana who twitched like a caged bird. Flowridia whispered to the rabbit. Go home, sweet one. Danger approaches.
The rabbit scampered away, and Flowridia stood. “Hello?” she called. “Is someone there?”
Fire suddenly lit, illuminating a face standing perhaps twenty feet away. A human woman smiled as she held a torch, her black hair plaited into a crown of gold. Another face stepped up beside her, and another, both human men, each with birds upon their shoulders and symbols of Sol Kareena engraved into their armor and robes. “Lady Flowridia,” the woman said as she stepped forward, and her voice was familiar, as was the little bird perched on her arm, “perhaps you remember me. I’m High Priestess Lunestra of the Theocracy of Sol Kareena. You’re safe now.”
Given the recent revelation that this woman was her great-aunt, she hesitated in her reply, seeking familiarity in the woman’s aged features. Flowridia resembled her mother in so many ways, but the warmth of her own skin bridged the gap between her parents, Lunestra’s umber hue surely the same as her paladin nephew.
Flowridia smiled, and it was sincere. “I do remember you.”
“We’ve been following, hoping for the chance to speak. Will you accompany us back to our camp?”
“I’d be honored,” she said, and she prayed Demitri and Casvir watched. With meticulous movements, she bent over and picked Ana up into her arms, gauging their reactions closely. One of the priests couldn’t quite hide his revulsion. His eyes widened, stance stiffening, but the other and High Priestess Lunestra appeared unconcerned. She stroked across Ana’s spine. “Lead the way, please.”
Lunestra gestured for her to follow, and the four stepped quickly through the trees. “An interesting companion you’ve found,” she said, though no accusation could be heard in her voice.
“Ana ran off, disobedient little thing that she is.” She prayed they didn’t understand the intricacies of necromancy. “What do you wish to speak about?”
“Are you safe, Lady Flowridia?” Lunestra asked. “My companions and I would ask a favor of you, but if you are in danger, or if you are being coerced, or used, we can send you home.”
Flowridia chose her response carefully. “I’m in no danger.”
“Our spies have heard troubling rumors concerning you and Imperator Casvir.”
If Staelash had heard as much, so too must have the Theocracy. She bit back a grimace and forced a lie. “I can’t imagine what you mean, High Priestess.”
A hand went to rest against the small of her back. “You sweet child,” Lunestra said, leading her forward. In the distance, a campfire flickered. “You sweet, capable child, reassure me, please—has the imperator coerced you into anything untoward?”
“Gods, no,” Flowridia said, quite sincere
ly. “Whatever his faults, he’s a gentleman.”
“You travel with him willingly, then?”
Flowridia spoke with care, recognizing the layered question. “We have a contract,” she replied. “I aid him, and he aids me. Nothing more or less. And once the terms are complete, I am free to go home.”
It would hardly be polite to press for details, but Flowridia could see Lunestra’s internal debate.
The camp came into view. No other guards were present, but Flowridia didn’t doubt that Lunestra and her priests were capable of defending themselves. All were armed, the priests quite openly, with swords at their belts, whereas the bird at Lunestra’s shoulder bespoke her talents for magic. The aged High Priestess gestured to a log by the fire, and Flowridia sat with Ana cradled in her arms.
“When you worked for Staelash, you held something dear to you,” Lunestra began, kindness still etched into her face.
Realization struck Flowridia, recalling their last meeting. “What sort of something?” she said, and then set Ana onto the log beside her. “Stay.” She needed something to do with her hands; lying caused her to twitch. She pulled out the flower in her hair and idly braided it back into the thick locks.
Sitting beside her, Lunestra watched with open curiosity. “The ear of Ayla Darkleaf.”
“I always held it close to my heart.” Flowridia wondered if Casvir could hear her jest. She continued primping her hair. “For safety, I kept personal guard of it.”
“That much was implied at our last meeting. Do you know where it is now?”
Her flower now secure, Flowridia’s hands fell. “I don’t see how that’s important, given Ayla is dead.”
“Forgive me,” Lunestra said. “I mean no insult. Perhaps I should be more transparent; my kingdom seeks the body of Ayla Darkleaf, including the ear. We know it is in Nox’Kartha, and you can help us acquire it. Our kingdom would reward you. We would even be willing to trade for the orb.”
So that was their bargain. Flowridia’s hands threatened to clench into fists, so instead she lifted Ana back into her lap and distracted herself with her smooth touch. “You would have me steal Ayla’s body?”
