AA304 - Interlude: Soldier of God (Patreon)

Amilie didn’t think anything of the arrow before it hit her. She was too busy to notice how it swerved to follow her, and then again to avoid a swipe of her spear. It was only a minor cut, nothing to worry about.

When her limbs started moving against her will, and she started running off, she knew something had gone wrong.

“What’s going on? Help!” she tried to say, but her voice remained silent.

Permit this wretch of a ghost to introduce herself.

It was a voice in her head that wasn’t hers. Amilie kept struggling to speak, but she was reduced to replying with her thoughts.

Who are you? What’s going on?

This unworthy ghost was once known as Lianor Kaivu, the voice said. Regrettably, you are currently being possessed by this lowly one.

Possessed? What? Stop it! Amilie commanded.

I do wish I could comply with your demand, Noviate Amilie de Miglos. However, even as this unfortunate soul is controlling you, she is, in turn, under the control of another.

Amilie had now left the group behind; she had bounded over a low rise and was now running at full speed toward an unknown destination.

Someone’s controlling you? Who?

His name is Varek Shuun, if it should matter. This one fears it will not. He is a necromancer of some renown, according to his own words, and of sufficient skill to bind this wretched ghost to his service.

Why?

I’m not an expert, but this one does not think that necromancers can control a living—

No, why me?

Ah. The voice paused, and when it resumed, it sounded a little more regretful. This one fears that Varek Shuun intends to sacrifice your soul and use your body to host a demon.

Amilie felt a chill at the words. Instead of responding, she tried to break free again, but… there was nothing to struggle against. Lianor waited in silence for a moment before trying to change the subject.

This one would compliment you on your level of physical fitness. Your body has kept up an extraordinary rate of movement for far longer than this one thought possible.

That’s great, but it doesn’t do me any good now, does it?

True. Varek Shuun will no doubt be pleased, but he will not reward either of us, this one fears.

What happens to you when I get sacrificed? Amilie asked, stung by a sudden pinprick of curiosity.

This one is not sure. It may be that the ritual requires two souls to be sacrificed, or this one may be bound into an arrow again.

So, death or slavery, then?

This one would say that her lot has been both death and slavery, with no respite in sight.

They ran in silence for a little while after that. Eventually, Amilie’s curiosity overcame her reticence.

So Varek Shuun killed you?

He did. You can see for yourself when we reach our destination.

Amilie kept silent while she pondered what that might mean. Eventually, they reached their destination.

Amilie hadn’t been able to run the entire way, of course. After about an hour, her pace had slowed, as the undead controller had been forced to accept the limits of the flesh she was wearing. Another hour of walking, and the village came into view.

It was… much like the first village they had seen. Whitewashed walls and round-ridged roofs, green painted shutters covering unglazed windows. This village, though, had seen much better days in the not-so-distant past.

Doors and shutters had been broken open, there were holes in the roofs, and some buildings were blackened by fire. It all looked recent; there was still debris on the street despite some repairs being made. But most of the people fixing things… weren’t alive.

At least, so Amilie guessed, from their shuffling gait and slow, purposeful movement. The animated bodies of the former villagers were slowly repairing some buildings and taking apart others. Some of the scavenged materials were going towards fixing the remaining buildings, but the majority of it was getting carted away, in the same direction that Amilie was walking.

A bit further, and she saw it: a broken tower rising above a small copse of trees. It wasn’t in the village proper, and took a bit more walking to get to. Lianor filled her in as she walked.

The tower has been ruined for as long as the village can remember. We used it for stone from time to time. Then Varek Shuun came and claimed it for his own. About a week ago? It is difficult to tell time when one is an arrow.

They came through the trees, and Amilie could see that there was a small compound of low buildings around the base of the tower. Probably part of the original ruin, now getting repaired.

Baran reported mysterious lights in the tower one night. The next night, the demon came and killed… most of us. The dead were put to work as zombies, their souls stripped away to be used—like I was. The living were ordered to serve on pain of death.

Lianor walked Amilie’s body into the compound, past a pair of zombie guards. Amilie couldn’t tell if they let her past or if they just weren’t responding to her presence. Lianor walked over to one of the reconstructed buildings with another zombie guard standing near the door. Lianor ignored him and struck a gong.

It was just a small one, suspended next to the door by a couple of cords, along with a hammer to strike it with. The gong sounded, and the door opened. Lianor stepped inside.

There were four girls inside, dressed in peasant clothes and looking at her nervously. One of them said something.

What did she say?

This one apologises; she did not realise that you didn’t speak the low tongue. That is Renya. She asked who you were.

Well, I can’t exactly answer her, can I?

This one’s orders include a command to keep you silent. However, if you permit, this one can share her understanding.

How? What?

Amilie felt a strange sort of pressure on her brain. Not painful, but—she relaxed her grip on her thoughts and knowledge came flooding in. Words and meanings, and…

She realised that Lianor was speaking aloud, with her voice, and she understood it.

“Sorry, Renya, I’m not allowed to let her speak. Her name is Amilie, and I used to be Lianor.”

“Lianor! But she—but you—” Renya looked like she was about to burst into tears. Or hug Amilie. One of the girls looked equally horrified, while the other two just looked frightened.

Lianor, for her part, simply took a seat on the bench, with a ramrod straight posture. That must have been one of her orders.

“So, for Amilie’s benefit, this is Meiya,” Lianor said, looking at the other horrified girl. “She’s from my village, like Renya. The other two are from Savairi village; I don’t know them nearly as well. Neyara and Meira?”

The other two girls nodded. Neyara was tall and slender, with long black braided hair. She looked at Amilie with suspicious eyes.

“If you’re a captive, how come you have a weapon?”

Lianor looked at the spear she was still carrying. “I was not given orders regarding carried weapons, and I thought there was a remote chance it could prove useful.”

Well, sure, if you’d let me move.

Unfortunately, this one cannot.

“Can we use it?” Meiya asked. Amilie felt Lianor grimace.

“The thing is, according to Amilie’s memories, it can only be used by a select group of people. Try touching it; if you feel a burning sensation, you cannot use it.”

Wait, you can read my memories? And what’s up with the normal talking?

Speaking to Noviate Amilie in a more respectful tone is a poor recompense for the indignity that this one has forced on you, but it is all that this wretched ghost can offer.

She didn’t say anything about the memories, but Amilie supposed that was obvious at this point. Instead, Lianor addressed the girls.

“I’m not allowed to remove any weapon from its holster, but nothing is stopping me from letting you know I’m carrying two daggers in my bootsheaths, and a much more dangerous weapon on the small of my back.”

The girls all froze and slowly looked down at Amilie’s boots. The boot daggers were supposed to be easy access, so they were clearly visible.

“We can’t stop a zombie with one of those,” Renya said slowly.

“And if he sees us with them…” Meira muttered.

“What’s the other weapon?” Neyara asked.

I hope you know what you’re doing. Using a gun without training isn’t as easy as they make it look in the movies.

This one is aware. However, this one does not have any better ideas.

“First, be careful!” Lianor said. “The weapon is called a gun, but it’s not like the guns in the stories.”

Oh, you have guns here?

Not like yours.

“Second—wait, Varek Shuun is coming!”

The girls all stiffened and cringed away from the door. Lianor remained unmoving.

Did you hear him?

This one can sense her master’s aura.

“Don’t tell him I spoke to you, or he’ll order me not to,” Lianor told the others.

A few seconds later, the door opened, and a man strode through. He was gaunt, with long black hair and hollow cheeks. His eyes, as he turned them on Amilie, were startling. Pale grey, they burned with intensity.

“Where are the others?” he demanded. Lianor stood up and bowed.

“This one does not know,” Lianor replied calmly. “The orders given to this one did not include looking back.”

Varek Shuun hissed like a tea kettle. “Useless fools,” he muttered. “I sent out five arrows, and only one comes back? Jira!”

Another figure stepped into the room. Shaped like a woman, she moved with an unnatural grace that instantly betrayed her as something else. Her skin was unnaturally smooth and pale, almost waxen, with faint grey veins showing underneath it. Her eyes were a deep, glossy black, swallowing the distinction between iris and pupil.

That is the demon, Lioran said, completely unnecessarily.

“Yes, master?” The demon said. Her mouth was slightly too wide, and her voice had a strange, metallic echo.

“Go check the perimeter,” the necromancer commanded. “Keep an eye out for those useless villagers. If they don’t come back with four more captives, bring them back to the sacrificial chamber.”

“Yes, master,” the demon said and left.

That’s what I’m going to be turned into? Amilie asked. A sick feeling started to grow inside her.

This one believes so, yes.

Varek Shuun, meanwhile, was still muttering to himself. “I need more than five to make the ritual worthwhile! Damn that prince for stealing my best reagents!”

He turned to leave, then whirled back. “Slave! Why does the prisoner have a weapon?”

Lioran bowed again. “The prisoner was holding it when this one possessed her. No orders were given regarding weapons.”

“I suppose I wasn’t expecting any women you captured to be carrying weapons,” Varek Shuun grudgingly admitted. “It looks valuable—and magical.”

“The prisoner believed it to be one of a kind,” Lioran reported.

“Oh? Give it here, then.” Varek Shuun held out his hand.

No! Don’t!

Do not be concerned. Have you forgotten the nature of this spear?

Varek Shuun grabbed the shaft covetously. As soon as his hand closed around it, though, he let go with a cry of pain. The spear clattered to the ground.

“What?” he looked at his pallid hands and the burn marks that had just appeared. “What just happened?”

“The spear of St George can only be used by a select group of people,” Lioran said. “As far as the prisoner is aware, she is the only current member of this group.”

“Tch!” Varek Shuun glared down at the offending item. “Pick it up and hold on to it. We’ll see if she can still use it after the transition.”

Lioarn knelt and picked up the spear. Varek Shuun gave one last glance at the cowering girls.

“You will all have to wait a little longer,” he sneered. “Just count your blessings that you will have the opportunity to be of use to me.”

He turned and left. Lioarn bowed to the closed door, and then resumed her seated position.

“Now, shall we talk about weapons?”

*

“I think it could kill Varek Shuun,” Lioran said. The girls had retrieved the gun from its holster and were examining it curiously. Lioran had already explained how to use it. “Though, in the stories, villains like him always have some kind of talisman to prevent a killing blow. So it might take several shots.”

The girls all nodded as if that was only common sense. Amilie tried to block them out. Whatever they decided to do, she would not actually be participating.

She needed to fight her own battle. Rescue was no doubt on its way. Perhaps her friends would be able to fight past the zombies and the demon. Perhaps the argumentative young man would have magic that could free her. But how likely was that, when Lioran would be compelled to fight him every step of the way?

No, Amilie needed to enlist a different power to overcome this. The power of God. Becoming a noviate might have been a workaround to get her into the Order before she was an adult, but the training had been real. After everything she’d seen, after everything she’d fought, she believed.

Lord of Hosts, hear us.

Steel our hearts against fear

Lioran must have known what Amilie was doing. What a prayer meant. She didn’t say anything. Not that she needed to. Nothing had happened. But Amilie wasn’t going to give up that easily. Her prayers had never been answered before, not with a flashy result. Just a feeling that someone was listening. She started again.

Lord of Hosts, hear us.

Steel our hearts against fear,

steady our hands against anger,

and keep our eyes upon the path before us.

Did it matter that she was in another world? No. The power of God knew no limits. What mattered was that she had a need, a need for the power to defeat the unnatural.

We do not ask for victory because we are worthy,

nor for mercy because we deserve it.

She felt something. Lianor felt it too, gasping in pain.

“What happened? What’s going on?” Renya asked. She grabbed Amilie’s body as it started to slump over.

We ask only for the strength to do what must be done,

“This is…” Lioran wheezed. “Amilie. She’s found a way… to fight my control. The light, burning me away…”

the courage to face what stands before us,

and the wisdom to know when our work is finished.

“No, you can’t!” Reyna cried. “Stop it, Amilie! You’re killing her!”

Saint George, bear witness to us.

Guard our brothers and sisters.

“You don’t understand,” Lioran whispered with Amilie’s voice. She reached out and pulled the worried girls in for a hug.

“Renya, Meiya. I died… already. I was… condemned to eternal slavery, never to rest, never to pass on. This is… freeing me.”

Let no innocent blood be shed by our hands.

Let the wicked fall, and let the dead find rest.

Those were the last words she spoke aloud. Her final message was just the ghost of a thought, heard by Amilie alone.

Thank you.

For a moment, Amilie didn’t move or speak, unwilling to believe that her prayer had worked. Then she released the girls from the hug. They scrambled back, looking at her in fear.

“You’re not Lianor anymore, are you?” Reyna said accusingly.

“I can still understand your words…” Amilie said wonderingly. “She left that for me.”

“You killed her!” Meiya yelled. She grabbed the gun from the floor and pointed it at Amilie. “Bring her back!”

Amilie didn’t move. Lianor had explained about the safety, but in her agitation, Meiya hadn’t flipped it. For the moment, Amilie was in no danger.

“I can’t. She’s passed on… to wherever people go in this world,” Amilie said, marvelling at the way the foreign words tripped off her tongue.

“I don’t believe that! It can’t be true!” Meiya shouted. Amilie tensed, getting ready to act. If the first thing Meiya did was pull the trigger, that would give Amilie a moment to grab her spear and disarm the girl. If she remembered the safety and turned it off, that would also give Amilie an opportunity.

“I don’t wish to cause an incident in such a tense situation, but perhaps I could cause a distraction?”

“Who said that? What did you say?” Meiya demanded, whirling around to point the gun at where the sound had come from. It was Mitsue’s voice—speaking Japanese—and had come from a small vent near the roof. Too small for even a ninja to fit through.

It was Amilie’s chance, and she took it. Leaping up, she grabbed at the gun while sweeping Meiya’s knee from behind. Meiya yelped as she lost her balance, and Amilie wrenched the gun from the panicked girl. She jumped back to face the entire group and holstered the gun in one smooth movement.

It might have made more sense to keep the gun out, but these girls were not Amilie’s enemy. She didn’t need to threaten them, and she had an ally here… somewhere.

“Mitsue?” she called out in Japanese. “Where are you?”

“Follow my voice,” the ninja said.

Amilie cast a careful gaze on the group of girls helping Meiya to her feet and then glanced over at the vent. There was an origami crane sitting there, gently flapping its wings.

“It’s a shikagami,” Mitsue said. “I followed you, but the undead guards seem impervious to my concealment techniques.”

“I didn’t know you could do that,” Amilie confessed.

“It does not have much combat utility,” Mitsue said, “And I prefer to scout with my own eyes. Still, it proved useful today. Are we ready to discuss escape plans now?”