CHAPTER 3

Carriage wheels and bumpy roads were one thing she could sleep through. Shouting, however? That was a bit much. “Oh come on, Jolus!” A woman’s voice came. Tallah, Lanri thought as she roused from her sleep. Judging from the slats in the coach and the cracks between the curtains, it was still dark out. “We were just messing around! She’s pretty, and smells nice! Can’t blame us for flirting.”

“Fuckin’ spot on!” Mick added. “We know she’s single, and we all saw she’s got needs, too.”

“You’re not flirting, you lunatics!” Jolus snapped. He was louder. Must be closer to the coach, Lanri thought. “You were scheming to force her. If you want to ask her out, be my guest, but do so when we’re back in Astoria, when she can say no and feel safe about it.”

“What if we don’t want her to say no?” Tallah asked. “What if–”

“Fucking listen to yourself, Tallah!” Jolus interrupted. “You’re married! I’ve met Shanra, not that that matters one gods-damned bit. If Professor Vattens says no, that’s it! End of fucking discussion.”

Lanri rubbed her eyes as she listened to the heated argument. “But–” she heard Mick try as she searched around for her wand and holster.

“But NOTHING! You both fully expect her to say no. Knowing that, you frankly shouldn’t even be considering asking, but this? This is… It’s vile.”

Lanri strapped her holster on, and pressed the dress against her face, inhaling, knowing it would calm her down. As it did, she mused about how proud she was of Jolus. She hadn’t met him before this trip, and she’d threatened him, but he was still fiercely resisting his friends in this deranged plan.

“You’re just saying that ‘cause you don’t want her.” Mick said. “If ya did, you would’t be so fuckin’ self righteous.”

“There is nothing self righteous about stopping you from doing something evil, Mick,” she heard Jolus say as she put her jacket on, and opened the door facing away from the camp as quietly as possible. “Something is messing with you guys. All three of you. How we found Professor Vattens wasn’t normal. Remember how concerned we all were at that? Now you two have gone from being good – if rowdy – people, to conspiring rapists. Am I the only one who sees there might be a connection there?”

“Huh,” Lanri mused as she quietly moved to get down from the coach, and took another deep breath to steady herself. Maybe he was onto something. Had she been acting strangely? She supposed she had, and glanced at the dress before stuffing it in her pocket and hopped down. As her boot sank into the podzol, she realized she didn’t have a plan. What was she going to do? Run away? The closest town was probably several days away. She’d never make it anywhere.

“Why don’t we ask her what she thinks?” Tallah spat, and Lanri heard the telltale rap of metal against wood of a sword being drawn.

“The fuck you think you’re going to achieve with that, Jolus?” Mick asked. “You’re going to fight us both? Really?”

“I’m going to make sure you leave her alone,” Jolus said. Lanri heard his voice quiver slightly. He really did not want to fight them over this, but it seemed like he would.

“Oh, how noble of you. A regular knight,” Tallah began. “When did you become the morality stricken type? I’ve seen you–”

“That was different!” Jolus growled. “She’s our principal.”

“And she won’t mind!” Tallah told him. “We’ll make her chew on my dazeweed, and–”

A crack echoed through the woods “Fuck,” Lanri cursed, as she looked down at the branch she stepped on, and neatly snapped in half. Silence filled the campsite for several seconds, and it was like Lanri could hear the other three thinking in real time. She vividly imagined the wordless negotiations between Mick, Tallah, and Jolus. The threats, unspoken, but doubtlessly exchanged. The ultimatum Jolus must be facing.

“RUN!” She heard his voice, as he decided how they would proceed, and she thought that was an excellent idea. She darted off, away from the campsite, and away from the sudden sound of swords meeting. The thin underbrush allowed her to pass, but slowed her down significantly, cracking and rustling as she rubbed past leaves and broke through twigs. It was so, so dark in the forest. She considered drawing her wand, and casting the white flame directly onto her hand to use as a light. But she couldn’t. It would let her see, but at the cost of turning her into a lighthouse, marking her to be found by the others from miles away.

She looked behind her, and saw the campsite shrinking, Jolus and Tallah still visibly fighting in the light of the campfire. Looking forward, she screeched as she staggered to stop before going over the edge of a steep hill. She looked around. Left or right looked equally unappealing, but turning to the right would at least put her vaguely in the direction of civilization. So that was the obvious choice. She took off running again, flanked by a severe drop to one side, and thick bushes on the other. She restricted her pace slightly, worried she might fall and break something.

“Fuckin’ stop already!” Mick bellowed from behind her. She turned to look, and barely saw him silhouetted against the starry night sky. “You’ll get yerself killed out here!” He sounded strained and exhausted, but disturbingly, not at all discouraged.

“FUCK OFF, MICK!” She yelled back at him, tripping, and losing her rhythm for a few paces as she regained her balance.

“D’ya honestly think it’d be so bad?!” He demanded. “You’re one of those slutty Ishara freaks, ain’t ya?”

She didn’t answer again, instead refocusing her efforts on getting away from him. Ahead, her trail narrowed, and the brush came closer to the edge of the hill. Too close, she decided. She drew her wand, and aimed it at a large tree.

“Sith Laom,” she commanded it, and a slug of white, flaming slag flew out from her wand, into the tree, taking a chunk out of it. It fell over in a terrible crunch, crushing the brush in her way, and pulling it down the hillside. As it went, the sheer overwhelming heat of the spell set the entire bundle of plants ablaze like it was kindling, and as it tumbled away it briefly lit her environment.

She looked around in that light, and was not surprised to find nothing of note. No paths beyond the one she’d made stood out to her. “Thank you, my love,” she quietly prayed to Faron as she holstered the wand, and pushed through the cinder-lined void in the forest. “JUST FUCKING GO HOME, MICK!” She yelled. “I DON’T WANT TO DO THAT TO YOU!”

“You won’t!” She heard him taunt. He was louder. Closer. She cursed. Of course a rugged carriage driver would be faster than a tired researcher who hadn’t eaten a full meal in days.

She ducked under a low tree, and a thorny twig cut along her cheek. Looking ahead, she saw the trail split, one just barely offered her a navigable way down into the valley to her left instead of the sheer eroded walls she’d been contending with so far. The other went back into the forest, and likely would lead to more obstacles. She couldn’t keep using magic to clear her path, she knew, so made her way down. She kicked her legs out in front of her, and slid down the dirt, bracing herself in case she should hit something. Behind her, she could hear the soil crumbling down as Mick did the same. She landed in the valley, and got up to run again, but had one of her feet kicked out from under her.

She fell flat onto her back, and had her breath knocked out of her from the impact. Gasping for air, she tried to force a breath back in as Mick appeared above her. She couldn’t see his face in the darkness, but from his labored panting, she could imagine nothing but rage in his eyes. Her hand flew down to her wand, and he stomped on it. She tried to scream, but still hadn’t managed to catch her breath, and as she reached across with her other hand, he knelt forward, pinning her arm above her head by the wrist.

As she finally managed to negotiate her lungs into inhaling again, she smelled how he reeked of sweat, just before a clammy hand forced what felt like moss against her mouth.

“Chew it,” he commanded her. She tried to shake her head no, and she heard his grunt as he lifted her left arm onto her face, and, still gripping it, squeezed her nose shut. “Chew it,” he repeated as he pressed the fingers of the hand holding the moss tightly against her cheeks, between her teeth. She opened her lips to breathe. “There we go.” he muttered as he managed to force her mouth open, and stuffed the plants inside. She breathed past it, and tasted the obnoxiously sweet plant’s sap rolling down her throat.

“Chew. it.” He commanded her a third as he kept her pinned down. She shook her head no again, and he shifted his hand, covering her mouth and nose alike. Panic shot through her, and she tried to reach her wand again, but he still had enough weight on both arms to make it impossible. He maneuvered her slightly, letting his foot off her right hand just enough to grab it with his own, and with one hand, pinned both of her arms above her head.

Her eyes finally cleared, she looked up at him, hoping to inspire some sympathy. No luck, it seemed. She couldn’t make out his face, and she doubted he could see hers. Desperate to breathe, she tried to bite the hand covering most of her face, but found the calloused palm to be beyond her reach. She struggled against him, and felt her mouth become oddly, unpleasantly numb from the plant’s sap. She heard the rustling of bushes, and saw the light of a torch. She glanced towards it, hoping to see Jolus with his sword raised. No such luck. The silhouette was a woman’s. As was the voice.

“Has she swallowed it yet?” Tallah asked

“Nope. Stubborn bitch seems to prefer suffocating,” Mick answered. She redoubled her efforts to struggle as her ears began to ring, and her fingers began to tingle. “The second you start chewing, I’ll let you breathe.” he told her.

Out of options, she gave in, chewing on the moss. “Good girl,” Mick cooed, as he uncovered her nose. Condescending prick. The numbness spread from her mouth, down her throat, and as she took a grateful breath, her eyes darted between them.

“Just keep chewing,” Tallah purred as she knelt beside her, and fished the wand from its holster. She thought the woman stank of copper, but her sense of smell was off. She only smelled it faintly. Muffled, and distant. The world… spun, and she was worried she’d manage to fall over somehow. Everything seemed to get brighter, and… And her eyes hurt, so she squeezed them shut against the light from the torch.

“That should do the trick. Swallow the moss, Lanri.” Tallah commanded. “Mick will let you go when you do.”

Lanri did as she was told. Or at least, she thought she did. She couldn’t feel the inside of her mouth anymore. She could hear herself swallow before she felt it, and she was more than a little worried she was doing it wrong somehow. Her thoughts became viscous, and her body seemed to require so much of her attention. As the hands keeping her still let her go, she was scared she’d fall up into the sky.

The two people looming over her. Who were they again? The big guy was keeping her from falling away, though, by straddling her. So she liked him. And the woman, she was standing! Actually standing! Like she wasn’t even worried about down having changed directions. In her stained armor, she looked dashing. Like the hero in a book.

“Cahn… Cahn you helph?” She asked the warrior. “I… I don’…” Gods, everything was so difficult. Every time she tried to talk, or think, she forgot to breathe, or she forgot she had to pay attention to staying on the ground to keep from falling up.

“Gods, Tallah. What is this stuff?” She heard the man ask.

“Dazeweed,” the woman answered. Dazeweed. Dazeweed. She recognized that name. She’d heard it today. Back at the… uhm… the– She lost the train of thought as she was rolled over. Facing the ground again, she sighed in relief, as her sense of down pointed towards something again. She wouldn’t fall into the heavens above..

“Thanngh you,” she whispered, gratefully. She rubbed her cheek against the dirt in appreciation of its firmness, and smiled in satisfaction. She was faintly aware of her arms being brought together behind her back, and found cold metal was preventing her from letting them drop to her sides again.

“Is Mister Morality taken care of?” The man asked. He spoke the name – or she thought it was a name, at least – with such venom that she hoped the answer was yes. Nobody who is spoken of with such hate by the man that saved her from falling into the sky should be left un-care-taken-of. She breathed in sharply as she remembered she’d forgotten to do so.

“I’m alive, aren’t I?” The woman asked.

Lanri felt herself get pulled up, and the man whispered “Just walk, and breathe.” That was a good idea, she figured. They seemed to have a specific direction in mind for her, and that’s the way she went. She grinned smugly as she realized all she had to do to keep from falling up was to keep looking down at the ground. She felt the man and woman help her navigate the narrow path.

“Why'd ya have this… dazeweed crap on hand, anyways?” She heard the man ask. There was that word again. Dazeweed.

“We use it for prisoners,” the woman answered.

“Amph I a… uhm… a prihshonehr?” Lanri asked, though it dawned on her that when she spoke, it sounded different than when they did it. As if it was harder for her, somehow.

“You could say that,” the woman told her. “Why? Don’t you like it?”

She tried to think of an answer, but couldn’t think of one beyond “I’m dizzy.”

“I bet,” the woman told her with a snicker. “It’s safer like that, though. And you’ll have a lot of fun because of it. I think we all will, actually.”

She could hear the two continue to talk, but as they went, it became harder and harder for her to pay attention to it. She could hear it, sure. But listening to it meant she had to stop breathing or paying attention to which way is down, and those both seemed more important than keeping track of what they had to say. She noticed that for a brief part of the trip, the ground was glowing like a dying fire, and she felt smoke sting her eyes.

“She did this?” The woman asked.

“Yah,” the man answered. “Used her wand to blast a chunk out of a tree, and the whole thing just fell over and caught fire. Tried to use it on me, too, when I caught her.”

“Who?” Lanri asked. Who were they talking about? Would they be able to keep her safe from whoever tried to turn him into cinders? She heard the pair laugh, and smiled along with them.

“See?” She heard the woman say. “She can’t be that opposed to the idea, or she would have just done that from the start.” After a while, she was turned left, away from the valley, into the forest; and ahead, she could see the light of a campfire. “Just another stuck-up academic noble who’s too ashamed to admit she likes sex, like the rest of them.”

Something about that rang false to her. She didn’t know what, though. She wasn’t…

She tried to think it over, carefully juggling her attention between breathing and remembering things. She wasn’t really… “Noble,” she whispered.

“What?” The man asked.

“Ihm notta noble anymohre.” she mumbled. “Fahron wahzz the nobleman.”

As they entered the camp, the woman gently set her down against a carriage. She felt her arms loosen, then they pulled up over her head, and anchored to… What was it? She looked up, and saw the shackles were woven through the spokes of her coach’s wheels.

The woman crouched in front of her, and Lanri flinched slightly as she pulled her eyelids open, and looked into one eye. “Perfect,” she heard her say. “Mick? When her pupils start to contract, give her more.”

The woman shifted, and Lanri felt her untie her boots. “Where’d you put Jolus?” The man asked.

“I didn’t put him anywhere,” the woman answered as she moved onto Lanri’s next boot. “Follow the blood if you want to find him. He couldn’t have gotten far.”

“Jolus?” Lanri asked. I know a Jolus. She grinned as she thought about him. “I lihke Jolus. He’zzznice.”

“Too nice, if’n you ask me, yer professorship,” the man said as the woman pulled Lanri’s pants down.

Just as the woman looped her fingers through Lanri’s underwear, she paused, and looked at the pants she was holding. She started laughing. “You took it?” She asked her as she pulled the dress from her back pocket. “You ran away from threats of rape and you bothered taking the damn dress instead of a knife?”

Lanri nodded, then let her head lull back. “I think sho. Issa nice dress. I luhv it. Iz mine.” She stared up at the stars, smiling. Now that she was tied down properly, she didn’t have to worry about which way was down, anymore.

“Why do you like it so much?” The woman asked as she held the dress up in front of Lanri. Instinctively, she tried to nuzzle against it, and glared at the woman when she pulled the dress back. “Come now, hot stuff. You’re not going to have any secrets from me in a few hours anyways. You might as well just–”

“It’s nice,” Lanri whispered. “It makezme calm, and see the good in things. Like Issshara would want.”

“Well then,” the woman said as Lanri saw her tie the dress into a knot. “I think that makes it ideal for this,” she added before she stuffed the knot in Lanri’s mouth, then tied the rest together at the back of her neck.

She tried to talk, to ask what she meant. But she found it far too difficult to bother with the dress in the way. Besides, as she breathed in, and giggled, she stopped wanting to. Obviously Ishara didn’t want her to talk right now, or she’d be able to. That’s how the gods work, she knew.

She giggled as the woman pulled away her panties, and she felt the chill of winter on her crotch. There was such a beautiful expression on the woman’s face. She felt desired. She felt needed. She imagined Ishara looming over them, directing this… Who was this woman, again?

“Gods. If I’d known dazeweed was good for this…” The woman mused.

“You’d what?” The man asked. Lanri heard him digging around in the coach behind her. A few seconds later, he lifted her enough to put a soft mat under her, and put a lantern with a pretty, white flame down next to her. She giggled gratefully at the warm glow.

“I’d see this expression on Shanra’s face every time I came home.” The woman finished. “Isn’t that a pretty look for a girl to have? Just look at her. Not a fucking clue what’s going on.” She leaned forward slightly, and ran a finger along Lanri’s folds. She looked down at it. “Well. She has some idea, at least. Such a good girl. You know exactly what we want from you, don’t you?”

Lanri shifted, rubbing her legs together as she shook her head at them. She breathed in eagerly, enjoying the familiar smell the cloth in her mouth carried. It made her feel confident. She knew she had a duty to these people. She wanted to fulfill it so badly. She just had no idea what it was.

“Oh? No?” The woman asked, as the man crouched beside her.

“Well ain’t that remarkable?” The man mused. Lanri’s eyes darted between him and the woman. She… She knew she was supposed to be doing something for them. It was her duty; It was everyone’s duty. “You reek of it, but you ain’t know what it is? That dazeweed stuff sure is something, huh?”

Between them, across the campfire, she saw something. A silhouette. It… Was it Jolus, she wondered? He’d probably know what to do.

The woman crawled over Lanri, straddling her as she planted a kiss on top of her gagged mouth, and took a deep breath in through her nose. The silhouette came closer. Lanri struggled to make out much at first, but as it crossed the campfire, Lanri could begin to make out the gold of her armor, and the auburn of her hair. She giggled a little at the sight. There was another armored figure stalking towards her, and her two friends had no idea. “Well, Mick. Why don’t we explain it to her?” The woman asked.

“Explain what?” The figure asked eagerly as she leaned between them. The pair both yelped in panic, and scrambled back as Lanri just stared up at her in awe. At this figure, this gorgeous woman. She had been wrong before. The woman that had taken her pants off didn’t look like a hero; she did. Everything in her told her she should win, not the other two.

“WHAT THE FUCK!?” The woman barked as she drew her sword, and charged at the figure. Then… she stopped. Lanri looked on as the woman’s gaze turned slackjaw as she stared at her.

“Assayez-vous,” the figure commanded, and Lanri felt a tingle up her spine as the woman immediately obeyed, and sat down in the dirt, stunned. As soon as she finished speaking, she turned to the man, who stood, staring with the same stunned expression on his face. She pointed at his sword, then at the woman’s. Vous voulez me les donner.

The man immediately obeyed, offering his sword to the figure, then collected the woman’s and handed that over as well. “You, too.Assayez,” the figure bade as she took them. With both of them seated on the ground, staring up at her in awe, she whispered “cassez.” The very air buzzed, and she smiled as the swords in her hands turned to rusty dust.

“As for you, my dear,” she purred at Lanri. “Let’s get you covered up before anything else. Vous préférerez les choses dans cet ordre, I promise.”

Lanri nodded eagerly at the figure as she felt the truth of it. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up at the sheer power of those words. She absolutely wanted to get redressed before anything else happened. She beamed a smile up at the figure as she crouched and pulled Lanri’s underwear and pants back on.

The figure, the… angel, really; that was the only word she could think to use. As the angel moved on to untying her, she heard her whisper the same spell she’d used to destroy the swords again. She felt her shackles turn to dust as her arms dropped to her side. “Now,” the angel started as she undid the gag, and inspected it. “Where did you find this?” She asked the subdued pair, glancing back at them.

“I fouhnd it. Ihn… in Ishara’z shrine.” Lanri said in their place.

The angel raised an eyebrow at that, and turned back to her. “You found this, my dear? Do you know what it is?”

Lanri nodded eagerly.

“Do they?” The angel asked next.

Lanri thought about it for a second. Did they? They’d… Gods it was hard to think. “I love it. I luhv you, too,” she snickered at the angel.

“Yes.” The angel mused, giving Lanri a mischievous smile. “I know you do. So, don’t hurt these two, please.”

“Hurth them?” Lanri asked, confused.

“Purger le sang,” the angel whispered, and Lanri gasped. The fog, the dizziness, the numbness, they all disappeared at once. For a second, she sat still, reprocessing what had happened. She recalled being forced to chew on the dazeweed, and their callused remarks about Jolus, and them touching her. It didn’t take her long to decide she wanted Mick and Tallah dead.

“Where’s my wand?” She asked, and moved to get up.

“No, no,” the angel cooed, and gently pushed her back down. “I asked you not to do that.”

“Why not?” Lanri asked through clenched teeth. “They killed Jolus. They would have killed me, too. Eventually. And she–”

“I know,” the angel whispered. “And they will face dire consequences for that. But you must tell me. Did they know what they were doing with the dress, when they used it as a gag?”

She thought about it. She considered lying, trying to incriminate them further. But something told her lying wouldn’t work. “No,” she hesitantly admitted. “They don’t know what it is. I didn’t explain it to them.”

“You kept it for yourself, then?” The angel asked. Lanri just nodded, and the angel grinned. “Then tell me, dear. What do you think it does?”

“It…” Lanri began, then paused to think about it. She knew it calmed her. It made her feel safe, and guided. “I think it shows me Ishara’s will,” she guessed.

“I see,” the angel said. She still had that flirty look about her. “And do you like what it shows you?”

Lanri reluctantly nodded. She glared at Mick and Tallah. She still wanted to use her wand on them.

“Outstanding,” the angel said as she stood up, pulling Lanri up with her. She was shockingly strong. “You and I have a lot to talk about. You can take your wand back now, my dear mortal. But don’t use it. You’d regret it later.”

“Fine;” she hissed as she advanced on Tallah. The woman stared clean past her, at the angel. Lanri pulled her wand from her pocket, and pushed it back into her holster. She glared down at her and Mick. She so desperately wanted to hurt them.

“Do not,” the angel commanded. “That is not our place. Lah and his Lawkeepers will deal with them more appropriately than you or I can.”

Lanri turned on the angel, and glared at her. “Like hell they will! I want to–”

“And that is why you shouldn’t,” the angel explained. She sounded so gentle, yet brooked absolutely no argument. “A victim shouldn’t be judge, jury, or executioner. Let alone all three. Please, just leave them. Trust me when I promise they will be treated justly.”

“I…” Lanri began. Justly. She didn’t like the sound of that. Conspiring rapists, one of which just murdered someone. That didn’t inspire much sympathy from her, and she didn’t think she wanted them to be treated justly. She wanted worse for them. But this angel had unambiguously saved her, so through clenched teeth, she managed to say, “okay.”

“Excellent. Now, come here, please,” the angel said as she offered one hand to Lanri, and held the dress in the other. “What’s your name, my dear mortal?”

“Lanri Vattens,” she said as she cautiously took the offered hand. “Lady Lanri Vattens, Junior Professor of Archeology at the First University of Remere if you want to be specific.”

“Well, Lanri Vattens.” the angel began, “I’m very happy to meet you. I have a remarkably long and specific title, too. But you may call me Seeker.”

“What does that mean?” Lanri asked.

“I’ll tell you in a minute,” Seeker promised, vaguely.

Lanri was halfway through formulating a follow-up question when she heard Seeker speak again. “Dormez,” the word came, and Lanri felt the thought fizzle out as lethargy gripped her, and the world fell away around her.