IV. Dismantling Devotion

Upon flinging open the flap to her tent, Maleah was startled to see her once austere quarters now filled with much of the finery looted from the temple. The opulence rivaled that of her brother’s tent. Maleah slunk into the tent with a frown and furrowed brow. They were an army on the move; as soon as all this shit got unpacked, it would be time to march again.

Maleah turned to the two slaves her brother had given her, two mousey women who’d likely not seen a day of manual labor in their lives. Their hands were soft and conditioned; their limbs were those of women who have never washed a dish or scrubbed a floor, let alone an honest day’s work in the fields. She wondered where her brother had snatched them up, likely saved them a horrid fate at the hands of the scum that made up their army.

A crack of lightning boomed across the camp, accompanied by the shrieks of startled horses and shouting men. Maleah smiled as she traced the intricate patterns on the upholstery with a slender finger, her nails little more than chewed nubs, and her hand rough with callous’. She had grown accustomed to the sound, eagerly anticipated it even. It signaled that Osric was dismantling the flesh rackets the men had set up; gambling over unwilling captives and subjecting them to unspeakable sexual violence. The army of Xanavene had devolved to be little more than a band of raiders.

She turned back to the two trembling women; they stood in the corner with their heads bowed. Judging by their terrified expressions, they knew what wretched fate they had avoided, and hopefully that knowledge would buy her at least a little obedience from them. Maleah snapped to get their attention and pointed to the copper tub next to the bed. With haste, the two women hurried to fill the tub with water from an enchanted spigot.

The women placed a small glowing stone tablet into the bath and added the salts her brother had given her. Within moments, the bath was ready and steaming. Maleah undressed and tossed her clothes to the floor, which her new attendants scrambled to gather. She sank deep into the steaming bath with a contented sigh. She would leave such thoughts of the war and its purpose to another time. Better yet, just leave it to Osric; he seemed to have things in relative order. She opened one eye to see the two women standing at the ready beside the tub.

“What?” she snarled.

“When the lady is done soaking we shall bathe and prepare her hair and nails.” The fatter woman said.

Maleah raised her hand from the water; most of her nails were already been chewed off. She was not sure what they could do exactly, but gave a gesture of noncommittal as she settled back into the tub. The women quickly gathered their supplies and set to work.

“What’s your name?” She asked the plump one.

“Carmen, my lady.” She replied as she lathered up Maleah’s arm.

She nodded and turned to the not fat woman. “What’s your name?”

The woman seemed slightly confused by the stff manner in which she asked. “It is Francesca.”

Maleah nodded again and leaned her head back against the rim of the tub. With the extent of her conversational Elysian fully displayed, she was content to soak in silence whilst the women scrubbed. The aroma of the salts was near intoxicating, as was the fragrant syrup her maid, Carmen, massaged into her hair. Maleah held out her hand expectantly for her goblet of spiced wine. Francesca handed her the wine as the other lifted her leg from the water and muttered something in Elysian that elicited a giggle from her fellow captive.

Maleah sipped her wine and chose to ignore it, more than likely they were surprised to see her hair coloration was natural. She was baffled however, when they slathered her legs with shaving cream and took off a lifetime of growth in mere minutes. She begrudgingly allowed them to do the same to her underarms, but drew the line when they attempted to shave her pubis.

Though she could barely understand them, they tried to convince her that it was a fashion in the area to go bare. Maleah remained adamant however and wondered what kind of society had men that desired their women to look like children. She silenced the debate with the one Elysian curse she knew and took a gulp of wine.

Carmen poured the bottle of teal liquid upon her head and worked the syrup into a thick lather as she massaged it into Maleah’s scalp. She purred in pleasure and drained the last of the wine. Carmen then filled a bucket with bath water and dumped it on Maleah’s head to rinse the soap out.

Startled, Maleah leapt up with a stream of curses as she tried to rub the stinging suds from her eyes. The two women offered profuse apologies as she swore again and splashed water into her face. The women huddled together, eyes wide and lips quivering, afraid their new mistress would have them killed. Maleah ignored the woman’s apologies and vain attempts to help as she shooed them out. The women bowed and offered more apologies as they ducked out of the tent without further delay.

Maleah sighed and plopped herself back into the tub, rubbing her face vigorously with a towel. After the stinging had subsided, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. The tent flap opened and abruptly shut behind whoever entered. The soldiers knew better than to enter unannounced, she had made that abundantly clear. She frowned and hoped it was not some pervert in need of a lesson in respecting boundaries.

“Are you decent?” Came the gruff near-whisper of her brother Séverin.

Maleah shrugged. “On occasion,”

Séverin crossed the room and hung his inverness coat over the back of an upholstered chair. Maleah shook her head as she rubbed her still stinging eyes, her brother always tried to dress the part of a lord, but never quite got the dirt of a farm boy out from under his fingernails.

He wore a simple charcoal grey pinstriped vest over a white dress shirt, with black slacks, a popular look among young businessmen of the day. His blood red tie brought even more attention to his cool, ruby hued eyes. A unique addition of his own were the leather bands strapped at his thighs, ankles and elbows that served as holsters for the many throwing knives and daggers he carried, with pockets seamlessly sewn into the fabric. On his feet, he wore simple canvas shoes with rubber soles rather than boots, he claimed it allowed him to move about with silence and still not draw too much attention in a crowd. This too, coincidently, had gained traction as a youth fashion fad in Sarevon. His short, lavender hair was styled in the way of a young nobleman, undercut with buzzed sides and long bang swept to the side. Maleah rolled her eyes; her brother was in his thirties, yet insisted on dressing like a twenty-something. It always baffled her and Osric as to why he was so infatuated with the city life.

He turned around to find his sister reclining naked in the tub, and quickly looked away. “Damn it Maleah…”

“It's not like anything's showing" She retorted, “besides, this is my tent, I can take a bath in my tent."

Séverin did another walk of the tent, picking up trinkets placed on shelves and tables to examine them before putting them back.

“Who’s going to pack and transport all of this?”

Maleah shrugged and gently rubbed her arm with the grainy water.

“I can come back later.” He muttered as he haphazardly set a bobble back to its place and began to leave.

“I’m not making this weird if you don’t.”

“Then stop acting like a child and get dressed.” Severin's unexpected vehemence caused her to flich. “Either that or I’ll come back later. We’ve much to discuss.”

Maleah stuck her tongue out at him as his back turned to her. He always did have a short temper. She sighed and reached over the tub for the towel. First Osric, now him, she was beginning to wish she were an only child.

“Why did you come back?” She asked as she dried herself off.

“Has he told you of his plans regarding the gate?”

She shrugged half-heartedly. “Sort of.”

“He plans to open it.”

“So he said.”

“And you are okay with that?” He probed, annoyance evident in his tone.

“I don’t care either way.” She leaned over and tugged on his sleeve. “Hand me a robe.”

Séverin snatched the robe from the back of a chair and handed it back to her over his shoulder. She sneered at him and snatched it from his hand.

“He can’t be allowed to go through with it Maleah,” Séverin finally said, breaking the tense silence.

“He is our brother. If we don’t stand by him, then who will?”

“He will slaughter millions before his mad ploy comes to fruition!”

“You don’t even know how much ‘millions’ is.” She muttered under her breath.

“What have we gained thus far? Every nation we’ve defeated has been razed without as much as a mention of their terms for surrender.”

Maleah picked up her cup for a drink but was disappointed to find it empty. “Tactically, this push for such a small, militarily insignificant nation makes no sense. Xanavene has and will gain absolutely nothing. But the throne in Sarevon supports—”

“The throne is empty, Maleah.”

Maleah looked up at her brother, puzzled. “Say again?”

Séverin turned around to reply and did a double take at her attire. “It’s very…pink. And fluffy. Why the hell did you bring something like that?”

Maleah held out her arms and looked down at her attire with an exasperated huff. “I didn’t bring anything but my spear and a saddle. This is our brother’s handiwork.”

“Hmm. Is he treating you well?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “He’s being a dick, but then again, so are you. What the hell kind of question is that?”

“I just returned from the capital.” He said at length.

“And?” She took a seat on the bed. “New orders or what?”

Séverin pulled up a chair and took a seat across from her. He ran his hand through his hair and exhaled deeply. She began to tear unconsciously at the robe, the tension was palpable and she felt the urge to run out of the tent and not stop running. Her brother had, for as long as she could remember, been a stern and taciturn individual, he never showed a chink in that façade, no matter the obstacle they faced. He tapped his finger against the hilt of a dagger, his brow knitted in concentration as he did battle with his conscience and hearts desires. Maleah knew nothing good could come of what he had to say.

“The throne room has been sealed; it had been locked and guarded since before the war. None had seen the royal family in about as long.”

"No." Maleah closed her eyes and shook her head. "Nope.”

Séverin reached out and placed his hand on his sister’s bouncing knee. “Maleah. Maleah, listen to me.”

“It’s a war Séverin! They probably went to their safe house or something mundane like that. You know Tiresias isn’t shit, we all know, Séverin.” She waved off her brother as he stood to comfort her. “I’m fine. It’s all fine. Come with me and talk to Osric, he’ll straighten this all out.”

“I don’t want to speak to Osric, Maleah.” He said flatly.

“What, you two have an argument and suddenly you’re no longer kin?” She goaded. “Dawn’s light Séverin, it’s not like he’s gonna throw a punch at you! He’s almost twenty-eight years old! He’s learned his lesson by now.”

“It’s not a punch I’m worried about…” Séverin muttered.

Without warning, Maleah smacked her brother on the face and aimed an accusing finger at him. They stared into the others eyes for several moments, neither willing to give an inch.

“Don’t.” She warned.

“The putrefied remains of the Xanavien royal family lay undisturbed right there in the middle of the floor.” Séverin continued, unfazed.

“Don’t.” She repeated, raising her voice.

“Organs were removed—”

“Why are you telling me this?” She demanded as hot tears stung her eyes.

“Do you know what our brother studied in Asketill?” Séverin interrupted.

Maleah paused and tried to discern his angle. They both knew what their brother went to the academy for; Séverin had been the one to help pay the tuition. What Séverin didn’t know, or rather, was not supposed to know, was what Osric transferred to less than a quarter of a way through the decade long phase one instruction. While Séverin seemed to have already figured out that little secret, she dared not confirm it now; some things are better left unsaid.

“He went to study necromancy.” Séverin's probbing gaze caused her to abruptly look away.

“But that too is impossible.” Maleah lied, unsure how he got that information.

“In his third year, he was approached by the master’s that work in the southern swamps.”

“He went to study dark magic and the elementals.” Maleah insisted.

“Did you know about this?” Séverin demanded.

“Damnit! Will you listen to me?” she shouted, annoyed by her brother’s constant interruptions. “He taught there for four semesters, Séverin! I don’t like black magic any more than the next, but that’s what he studied and that’s what he taught.”

Séverin looked her over for several moments, searching for a crack he could dive into, but gave up with a frustrated swear. He stood and paced the room, idly scratching the day-old stubble on his chin. Maleah discretely wiped the tears from her eyes and attempted to distract herself by drying her hair. She refused to believe that her brother had killed the monarchs; it would have served him no purpose. While they were not the most popular people in Xanavene, fighting in their wars put food on the table. Especially since Osric was branded an exile, the little red mark on his forehead made him unemployable in the field of magic, there was no way he’d be foolish enough to throw away such an opportunity by killing his employers.

Her head spun as she tried to sift through the information on a stomach full of wine. Her brother’s rise from court wizard to advisor and military commander had been quick and rather odd. Each of his promotions came within the span of two years, and now a man who had never seen combat prior oversaw a massive campaign. Even Séverin could not explain it, and his military specialty is to know this kind of information.

Assuming Osric did kill them, surely, someone would know and stop him, or let someone else know; regicide is not something one can simply walk away from without someone finding out. She bit her bottom lip and fell face first onto the bed to let out a muffled scream of frustration.

“You were far too young to remember this,” Séverin began. “But before our father died, Osric asked him if it was worth it. He couldn’t have been older than four at the time.”

Séverin retrieved a small metal case from his breast pocket and pulled out a cigarette. He put it to his mouth and snapped the case closed, causing her to flinch and break free of her thoughts. She sat up as he lit it and rubbed her eyes, the wine and late hour had made her tired. This sudden change in conversation topics was also baffling; her brother never spoke of the past.

“Father said yes, he said that he would do it a thousand times over, until the day a man is not born merely to serve and provide for another. When bandits can’t claim a town with impunity whilst the baron charged with protecting them comes by only to collect taxes and grain he neither planted nor reaped.” Séverin paused to light and take a deep drag from the cigarette, pointing the glowing ember at his sister for emphasis. “Until the day he would no longer have to worry that his daughter would be snatched from the streets and raped by their pedophilic leader.”

“That didn’t happen at least.” She said weakly.

Séverin stared hard at his sister for several moments, his ruby eyes boring past her flesh as if he were attempting to see her very soul. She shifted under the uncomfortable gaze, causing the bed to creak and groan. She had seen that look before, and had always dreaded the day that she would see it turned on her. He blinked and took another drag of his cigarette, and Maleah let out a breath she had not realized she had been holding.

“No, but there were other sacrifices…”

“Why are you telling me this Séverin?” she pleaded. “It’s late, I had too much wine and I just want to go to sleep.”

“Because.” He said, holding up his hand. “Our brother has done, and will do, anything and everything to see father’s dream become a reality.”

Maleah’s head swam with confusion and doubt. How did the black gate fit into all of this? Why the war? Why any of it? She was not even willing to consider the insinuations Séverin had lodged against him. But if Osric raised an army to chase down a Priestess, she thought, so be it.

Perhaps he wanted to fuck her. Wars were waged for far less in the past. She was certain that there was far more to this Black Gate than it seemed, and more to this pointless war as well. Very few people actually believed in Abigor, and the Eloi were often considered more a state of mind rather than a flesh and blood entity.

As far as she was concerned, there had to be some treasure, some trove of forbidden knowledge that he sought, perhaps he wanted to blackmail The Order or end their reign altogether. Her brother never had been the religious type.

This gate was more than likely some secret that would compromise The Order somehow, something they would do anything to keep from coming to light. No doubt, Osric discovered it in one of his books. He would probably overthrow The Order or hold them at ransom. Maleah pouted, Séverin always had the unfortunate ability of making her think and question things better left alone.

“I’ve researched this black gate on my own.” Séverin said, as if he read her mind. “I didn’t find much, but I did find it had been opened before. The last time coincided with the downfall of a civilization, the only remnants of which are the ruins of Agrardya and—”

She threw up her hands in exasperation. “What do you want me to do, Séverin?”

He took another drag and sat on the edge of a table. “I don’t know, perhaps you could talk to him…”

She laughed aloud. “You tried that and wound up running off, remember? Osric is a stubborn one, besides, I’m the baby; he has no obligation to listen to me. Not that I’d have anything to tell him anyway.”

She stood with a groan and went behind the privacy screen to change. She often slept in her clothes, that way she would be ready for anything that may happen. It also allowed her to use the time normally relegated for getting dressed for sleeping in. She searched for her clothes, but they were gone, her new maids must have taken them for cleaning or destruction. In their place was a flimsy nightgown. It was hardly the appropriate attire for a military camp, even though at this stage a night raid was unlikely, it was far from ideal. She reluctantly donned the flimsy shift and hesitantly stepped out from behind the screen. Séverin rolled his eyes at her and continued to smoke.

“Don’t say a word.” Maleah warned.

“I swear Maleah; you’ve picked the damnedest time to finally start dressing the part of a lady.” He teased.

“It’s Osric and those damned Elysian women he dumped on me.” She protested.

Séverin continued to smile as he marveled at the woman his little sister had become. “If mother were alive to see you, she’d fall to her knees and thank the heavens for finally giving her a daughter instead of a third son.”

Maleah leaned against a tent beam and crossed her arms. “So where will you go now?”

The smile abruptly faded from his face. “I will follow the army to Therion. If I need to stop Osric myself, then I shall do so.”

She studied her brother’s face. What had he learned to cause him to consider turning against his own kin? She wondered what Osric planned to do exactly; he claimed to want to open the black gate for vengeance against the Eloi, but what for? What had those two fought about so many months ago? Osric and Séverin were the best of friends, more than just brothers. Séverin relied on Osric more than Osric could have ever known. For Séverin to speak in such a way…

“You couldn’t.” she replied, her voice trembled with uncertainty.

“I can and will. Mother would want it. If what he told me is true…” His voice wavered, but quickly shook his head, banishing the doubts. “No, I cannot allow him to spill the blood of so many innocents.”

“And in the end, if their blood is spilled, it will be no more than water compared to the shared blood that flows through our veins,” she spat, turning her back to her brother.

Séverin digested her words before rising, still unwilling to look upon his sister’s pain and confliction. He had a hard-enough time trying to sift through his own feelings on the issue; he did not want to drag her into it as well. He knit his brow as he desperately sought another solution, the route of logical conversation had proved futile and he always wound up back where he began.

“If you travel to Therion, I will not allow you to bed anywhere but here. Someone may recognize you.”

He allowed himself a brief smile. “Don’t tell me you’re still afraid of the dark?”

“Only sometimes,” she smiled and tried in vain to blink back tears.

She had always been closest to her brother Osric, but he seemed far more distant and different lately. He probably was preoccupied with his scheming, if it was indeed scheming, she could not place her finger on it exactly. He had told her of strange dreams he had been having, dreams of the ancient past or something to that effect. She had told him he simply spent too much time reading old books, and that was the last he spoke of it. It was at around this time that the changes in his demeanor seemed to manifest.

“It is late brother, and unfortunately I must awake early to conduct exercises.” She held out her hand for him to take.

Séverin led her to the bed and tucked her in, as he did when she was a little girl, after their mother had passed. She was tempted to ask for a bedtime story or to talk and reminisce about better days. However, the combination of wine, incense and the warm bath put her into a trance-like sleep as soon as her head touched the pillow.

* * *

Séverin stood sentinel over his sister as she slept, and deliberated over the details of Osric’s plans and the details he had uncovered. The gate did hide something terrible; it had been forgotten to mankind, now only mentioned in legends and hushed whispers. He lit another hand-rolled cigarette and blew out a stream of grey smoke. His brother wanted to reshape the world, to remove the current system of government, and to replace it with his own. He wanted to end all the injustices, to create a world wherein the small and the weak would not be trampled or forgotten. Such as what happened to their own village of Balalaika, where bandits ruled with impunity, and trapped citizenry lived meager, fear wrought lives. If the gate held the means to do so, Séverin knew his brother would do all that was necessary to accomplish his goals, even genocide.

He could not forget their final argument as the army marched through Rhodarcium. Something had come over his brother, and he was not the same man he grew up with. He knew his brother’s intentions had been and always would be good, but as they cut their way across the continent, he found himself less and less comfortable with the means. There was logic in getting rid of the church; it had become a bloated and corrupt tyrant, keeping the downtrodden in line with their empty promises of paradise and threats of damnation. The teachings of Renata had been twisted and lost over the millennia, but to challenge the very gods themselves was madness. For all the evils manifested in the church leadership, there were still those on the ground doing the work of Renata the Savior, healing sickness and providing for those who cannot do for themselves.

Osric was and always would be Osric; Maleah had been right in that assertion. Séverin just needed to stop his brother and talk some sense into him. Whatever the gate contained, Osric still needed something from the Colby-Nau nation of Rhode, and the world tree Yggdrasil in Alfheim. He would just need to be there to meet him.

He flicked ash into an empty cup as his sister rolled over in her sleep, mumbling something incoherent. He knew that she would not leave, and he did not want her to. She would be far safer with Osric and the army than alone with him in his travels to hostile territories. Though he did not agree with his brother’s methods, he knew that he would never allow any harm to befall their little sister. They were still family after all, and the only ones left at that.

Séverin finished his cigarette amidst the sounds of passing guards on patrol and Maleah’s rhythmic snoring. She would sleep soundly knowing he was there and under the impression that he would remain until they arrived at Therion. Though it upset him to deceive her as such, he knew it was necessary. He had to travel to the Elf nation of Rhode to see if he could discover what it was Osric was after. It was hoped that would avert any brother-on-brother violence, and bloodshed. Maleah could not suffer another loss, nor could he bring himself to kill his younger brother.

He stood with a yawn and went about extinguishing the lights. He tied a string to the tent flap and the other end to his finger and took his place on a sofa in the corner. This way, if anyone entered unannounced, he would be ready for them. He whispered goodnight, closed his eyes and slept.