Chapter 1 #2
A moment later darkness swirled by his side, and the massive hound appeared, steam rising from his thick black pelt, his huge head rising as he took in the chamber’s scent, his bright eyes alive with curiosity.
“Ho, a worthy companion! Shadowpaw, you named him? Verily, he is a beautiful hound.” Brauxis reached behind his back and drew forth an improbably huge cut of gleaming black and crimson flesh, one side still scaled in hydra hide.
“Ho there, hound! What is this I brandish in your direction? Could it be a treat? A treat for thee?”
Shadowpaw growled deep in his chest, his attention riveted on the huge steak.
“Go for it,” said Harald, unable to resist a smile.
Shadowpaw crouched but a moment, then leaped across the large chamber to fall upon Brauxis, huge claws gauging at the weathered plate armor, his jaws latching mightily onto the steak.
Brauxis didn’t even stagger. His laughter boomed out as he held the huge steak easily in one hand, able to resist Shadowpaw’s violent tugs effortlessly.
“What fine mettle, what noble spirit! Come, the steak is yours, but you must earn it.” The angel-kin half-turned back to the door, then looked over his monstrously huge pauldron at Sam.
“I bid thee remain here with your companions until Alabenthos returns to render judgment. I shall resume my rounds, ennobled now by this heartsome companion. My thanks, Harald Darrowdelve, for this mighty boon.”
The steak was inordinately tough. For all that Shadowpaw wrested and tore at it, the meat stretched and only tore a little.
Brauxis strode forth, pulling the steak behind him, Shadowpaw digging in and fighting the pull, but sliding easily across the marble as the angel passed through the doors, which closed soundlessly behind him, and then both were gone.
“Did you see that?” Nessa’s tone was hushed. “Shadowpaw didn’t even scratch his armor.”
“Seraphina told me a little about those who live on this floor,” said Sam. “She and I are the only humans. The rest are… to be honest, I didn’t quite understand the nuances. She called them Emanations of Alabenthos? He generates them from the depths of his spirit.”
“Like Servitors?” asked Harald.
“More permanent, and free-willed. But totally loyal, completely bound to him. Exalted Brauxis is one such. A high-level servant.” Sam moved to a cabinet and opened the doors to reveal shelf after shelf of neatly folded towels and blankets.
Bemused, she closed it, began moving to another.
“There are five levels. Exalted is the fourth highest. Brauxis must be really, really tough.”
“No kidding,” said Vic, then shrugged. “But it is a truth universally accepted that anyone with a fondness for doggies can’t be all bad. And honestly, being commanded to rest is exactly what I was hoping he’d say.”
“Agreed,” sighed Nessa. “It’s been a long, long night. Sam? Is there somewhere to sleep?”
“Or shower?” asked Vic. “I’m all icky with dried sweat and other people’s blood.”
“There should be.” Sam opened another narrow door to reveal a hallway beyond. “Huh. This wasn’t here last time I… but there are more doors? Maybe…?”
The main central chamber revealed itself to be a hub to other rooms, with enough guest chambers that everyone could be accommodated. They also discovered a room with a waterfall crashing down into a natural pool, with crystal decanters filled with salves and herbal pastes with which to wash.
The encounter with Brauxis had taken the edge off the crew.
Nobody suggested setting a watch or sleeping together for safety’s sake, and to Harald’s surprise he realized he wasn’t nervous or on guard at all.
After what felt like days of paranoia, violence, backstabbing, and attempts on his life, he felt finally at peace.
He took his time bathing when his turn came, and of course, the waterfall drenched him in heated water. He felt the tension and knots in his shoulders ease, and for what felt like a short eternity, he simply stood under the deluge, water crashing around him, and allowed his thoughts to drift.
To Anna. Would she be safe? Was anywhere safe, for any of them, outside this moment of reprieve?
To Sam, kissing him just before they were both attacked behind the House Celestara guest house.
Lady Hammerfell. Lord Doran. The Twilight Crown.
Vic’s worrisome slide into bloody-minded anarchy.
Nessa’s Ego-driven crisis, and how she’d handle her pain now that the Crown was one.
He reached out for Shadowpaw and sensed the great hound out there in the middle distance, complete with a sense of savage happiness. Good. The dog was having fun.
If anything instilled him with a sense of safety, it was that.
Harald toweled off, dressed in a clean outfit that Sam had found in one of the many cabinets, and returned to the main chamber. Exhaustion bid him sleep, but he was driven by restlessness, and when he saw Sam standing by herself, he knew what had driven her forth.
For a moment he remained still in the archway, watching her.
She was… beautiful. Slender but athletic, her golden hair freshly washed and hanging down her back yet betraying the passage of her comb in its clean furrows.
She was examining a beautiful white blossom in one of the potted plants, her brow slightly furrowed, her hand cupping the flower.
Sam.
A wave of tenderness and desire washed over Harald, a desire to protect her, to nurture their relationship, to make her smile, to help her achieve whatever goal she desired.
It felt at once complex and simple, powerful and confusing.
For so long she’d simply been his majordomo, an invisible and constant presence, but over the past months, she’d grown, surprised him, impressed him, saved his life—and forgiven him for his previous sins.
Said that she loved him.
Kissed him.
And now? He couldn’t help but smile. Angel-kin, with an Angel Seed, a Divine Soul Rank, awesome powers, the patronage of an actual angel. And yet still Sam, his friend, his childhood companion.
She must have sensed him, for she turned and met his gaze, her smile natural, her gaze warm. “I thought you’d be asleep.”
He moved into the room, approached. “Guess I wanted to check in on you before closing my eyes.”
“If anyone’s in danger here, it’s you.”
“Everywhere’s dangerous these days. But still.” He stopped before her. She linked her hands behind her back and gazed up at him, her eyes glimmering with amusement and something deeper. Something more. “I… I never told you.”
“Mmm?” She arched one brow.
“The Mote of Humility. Remember Alabenthos’ gift, after I told him I wanted to serve the light?”
Her gaze widened, but she only nodded.
“Back during all the madness in Flutic. I… I gifted it to you.” How had he not mentioned it before?
“I don’t think Vic’s thought of his twice, but mine—I think I understand the significance of the gift.
How Alabenthos meant to balance out my Demon Seed and its influence.
” His chest felt tight, his throat constricted, and her subtle scent, warm and clean and close was intoxicating.
“I…” It was getting harder to focus. “I wanted you to be the one who had… had that power over me. That I could never turn against, no matter what comes. I… I trust you more than anyone else in the world, Sam.” His stomach was churning, his thoughts spinning.
“If I ever—if at some point in the future, if I become like Father, if the Demon Seed warps me, I want you—I know that you will be able to—”
She reached up with both hands, cupping his cheeks, and drew him down so that their lips met. She closed her eyes, and then he did the same, and even as his heart pounded and the blood rushed in his ears, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her deeply.
Finally, she broke the kiss and embraced him, resting her cheek on his chest. He clasped her tight, and all felt still, all felt right in the world.
“It’ll never come to that,” Sam whispered.
“I know it. You’re a good person, Harald.
” She drew back suddenly to meet his gaze again, her stare earnest, sincere, almost fierce.
“You will fight off the Demon Seed. You’ll help me and the angels win this Celestial War.
I’ll never have to use the Mote against you.
The fact that you’ve given it to me is proof enough of that. ”
His throat was dry, cramped, and he couldn’t talk. Could only stare down into her burning blue gaze and take solace in her confidence.
“Seraphina told me it was no coincidence that I gained my Soul Rank at the same time you did. That our Classes complement each other so well. We’re meant to be together. To keep each other strong. The Fallen Angel wants us to fight together, to win this war for her. And we will.”
Her faith was so absolute, her tone so firm, that he could only nod once, somberly.
“Whatever comes,” she whispered, “we’ll face it together. And I know, I know that you’ll resist the Seed. With my love, and your strength, we’ll turn it against Vorakhar and win this war. Together.”
They embraced once more, and he rested his head upon hers. Within his depths he could feel the Demon Seed stirring, could feel something akin to dark amusement, an emotion that translated best into a snigger. Could it understand her words? Did it have an awareness of its own?
But Harald tamped down his awareness of its darkness, of all it had bid him do thus far, of all he might need to do to win this war moving forward and took solace in this one precious moment of stillness.
Right now, holding Sam, basking in her faith and confidence was enough. Perhaps it would be enough for the both of them.
And that's when he realized that they weren't alone in the chamber. Turning rapidly, putting a surprised Sam behind him, he saw a massive figure had materialized in the center of the room:
Alabenthos