"Forbidden - Chapter 3" by Elizabeth Holgate

Author's Note: This chapter is told from Valdris the Priest's point of view.

It's always been a weakness of mine, this habit of complicating matters by obeying my instincts, rather than following orders as any good priest of our religion would do. That's not to say I ignore the rules or cause trouble, but it's become a frequent occurrence for me to return from a mission with a child or maimed refugee. The elders always shake their heads, look at me wearily as if they're losing their enduring patience. Well, I'd done it again, plucking this young man, little more than a boy in my eyes from that cruel place. Naked as a babe he was, save for the manacles with their severed chains dangling limply, and a band of plain gold, bare of all decoration except for the numbers stamped into it. No name for the slaves in that filthy prison. Only numbers, as if they weren't human, or lacked any individual identity. The gold was strange in my eyes. Such a precious metal to bestow on a slave and I doubt he was even aware of what it was. When was the last time he'd seen himself in a mirror, or his reflection in still water?

"The necromancer, Hudair Nasem. Kill him and return here." That's what we'd been told, Ariadene and myself.

"Why?"

Silence from the elder I questioned and from my female partner. She'd stared at me with her usual exasperation. Good little priestess she is. Follows the rules and never bothers to ponder the reasons behind things.

"You are not required to know. Do as we have requested and return immediately."

I knew it was useless to argue. The fact that our target was a necromancer should have been answer enough. He was dabbling in forbidden arts, and was therefore a heretic. Still, there were many necromancers we knew of, and no one was moving against them. Is it so wrong to be curious? Ariadene had pulled me out of the room and reprimanded me once we were outside. I didn't care, and I think she knew.

Now here we were, a dozen miles from where we'd killed the necromancer and still travelling at a slow jog. The slave hung like a rag doll in my arms, which by this point were beginning to ache to the point where I might drop him at any moment. The sensible thing would have been to wake him, but I hadn't the heart to. He was exhausted and we were so close to reaching our chosen resting point that it seemed unnecessary.

Finally I tripped, stumbling forwards a few paces, the arm I'd held beneath his knees reaching out for anything available to steady myself. I refused to drop him, and ended up on both knees, clasping him to my chest with my left arm, panting heavily, my legs trembling so violently I knew that getting up wasn't an option. Ariadene was beside me in an instant, her cold palm on my shoulder. Despite her usual impatience with me, I knew she was worried.

"You wait here. We left our equipment not far from here. I'll go fetch it, you rest a while."

"Bless you sister." I murmured in response, listening to her light footfalls as she took off on her own. I let the slave slip to the ground gently, and sat down cross-legged beside him. It seemed a wonder to me that he hadn't woken, not even once.

There was still several hours till dawn, and we would need to make the most of them if we were to arrive "home" before the following evening. I say home, but in truth it's a temple, surrounded by smaller, newer buildings. The main shrine is so old we haven't been able to put a date on it.

Ariadene returned within minutes, our packs slung over her narrow shoulders, and she slung them down with a sigh of relief, flopping down next to them as she tried to get her breath back. Before long we were both gulping from our water-skins, liquid dribbling down chin and neck until our stomachs protested and we were both gasping for air again.

"You set a harsh pace even with a heavy burden, Valdris."

I only nodded, too absorbed in cleaning up the cuts on the chest and arm of the slave. Fortunately they weren't too deep, though scars were more than likely. My old blanket would have to serve for clothes, I tended not to carry spares, they only added unnecessary weight. Now for once I wished I'd brought them.

No sooner had I dragged his limp form into a sitting position to wrap it around his shoulders, that Ariadene gave a sharp gasp, her eyes wide as she stared at his back. Frowning, I peered behind him. What could have possibly scared a Priestess who killed on a daily basis?

As my eyes locked on the hellish symbols painted upon his back, I understood her alarm. Not fear, but shock. Such writings were forbidden, and what was worse, were known to attract the lesser demons that roamed on unprotected lands. The writing would be drawing them in even as we sat and rested, and had probably been luring them along our trail ever since we left the old fort the necromancer had lived within.

"Valdris leave him here and come at once!" She hissed at me, afraid to raise her voice in case she attracted attention. I sat there stubbornly, refusing to make eye contact with her. I'd carried him this far; I wouldn't abandon him now. Instead I rolled him onto his front, poured what remained of my water over his back, and began to scrub at the markings with the blanket.

"You go if you wish." I murmured, watching the foul paint tainting the water like oil might. It was fading, but only slowly.

"Don't be ridiculous! We have to move as a pair! You know those are the rules!"

"Then say I broke them. They'll believe that." I snapped, growing a little impatient, listening for any sound of approaching fiends. The paint was leaving red marks upon the slave's skin, as if it had scalded him when applied, but these would fade in time.

"Why must you always argue? We won't be able to defend ourselves, let alone an unconscious boy if we get attacked!"

I knew she was right, but my conscience refused to accept her reasoning as a legitimate argument to abandon him.

The last of the paint finally scrubbed away, I tossed the blanket aside and got to my feet, scanning the darkness to try and pick out any unwanted followers. Ariadene did the same, but neither of us could spot anything amiss, and we slumped back down again, unsure of what to do. The slave would no longer act as a lure, but that didn't mean the creatures would give up on their hunt. They were just as likely to continue tracking us by scent in the hope of a quick meal. I felt guilty for putting Ariadene at risk, but she was more capable of defending herself than the poor boy we had rescued.

"Well, what now?" She asked, hands on her hips, eyes narrow with restrained fury.

"We do as we originally planned." I answered, giving an apathetic shrug. If the things were going to find us, they'd find us, and that was the end of it. It seemed logical that we rest. My partner obviously disliked the idea, wanted to move on, but by that point I was stretching out on my back, head at the base of a small sapling growing on the outskirts of some unappealing woodland. Ariadene pulled her own blanket out of her pack, slinging it around her shoulders, and then having second thoughts handed it over to me.

"Put it round him, he'll freeze if he lies there naked all night, and I won't have him die now that we've gone to all this trouble to save him." She tried to sound grudging, but I could tell by that slightly doting look she gave him, that she was sympathetic. I withstood the urge to smirk with my usual ease, and nodded my thanks before wrapping it around him as best I could.

The cold didn't bother me too much, despite being naked to the waist. It did however, bother my two companions, who were both shivering before long. Ariadene ended up pressing up against one side, her head on my shoulder, and the rescued slave somehow summoned the energy to roll over and do likewise on my right, until I was firmly wedged between them.

Physical contact of any sort is uncomfortable for me. It's far from forbidden, save for anything of a sexual nature, and some of the other members of our order might laugh at my constant need for personal space. This night, despite my desire to move elsewhere, I stayed put and let them take what warmth they could. It was only fair after all, but I still refused to hold either of them, and instead looped both my arms around the trunk of the sapling. We fell asleep that way, lying undisturbed, much to my relief, and I was first to wake.

I was rather startled to feel myself more or less pinned in place, with the slave's breath hot against my cheek. I didn't doubt that he'd ended up there by accident, but nonetheless I was displeased at being so entirely unable to move.

My attempts at trying to squirm out from beneath my companions resulted in Ariadene waking abruptly, only calming down after she realised we weren't in any danger, and that it had been my movements that roused her. She yawned noisily, rubbing at her eyes with her knuckles and then blinked a few times to get her vision into focus. Immediately there came a broad grin upon her face as she noticed my discomfort and the way that our new friend was half sprawled across me. I gave her a withering look, and her good- natured laugh served to wake the slave.

It seemed an effort for him to so much as open his eyes, deep amber that for a moment, had me frowning at the rarity of the colour. Maybe it was my staring that finally woke him properly, summoning the strength in tired limbs to shift away from me, wearing the expression of a frightened child. I doubted he could remember much of his rescue, if anything, so this had to be confusing.

"Well done Valdris, scare him off before we've even had breakfast." Ariadene chuckled, getting to her feet and stretching her arms above her head, the slight clink of those crystals she always wore, webbed into her hair somewhat irritating.

I rolled my eyes at her comment, but didn't bother to respond.

"Valdris, Ariadene." I said, rather bluntly actually, pointing first at myself, and then my red-haired partner. A slight nod from the slave brought me some relief. At least he could understand our language.

"You haven't ever been any good at this part of things, you never seem very friendly you big oaf."

My partner's words actually stung a little, though I made no sign of it. I'd never realised I was bad with new people, and thus my lack of conversation became even more pronounced.

"Do you have a name?" Ariadene was crouching down beside the slave, whom I was happy to note, looked every bit as intimidated by her as he had by me. His response to her question was a sharp shake of his head, face half- hidden by a mass of rich brown curls that brushed his shoulders. He was a pretty little thing by all accounts, his skin darkly tanned despite the lack of light in the building he'd been living in. "Well then we'll have to think of one for you. We can't just go around calling you slave. Which you realise, you're not anymore." She smiled brightly at him, but his confusion seemed to have doubled. "What do you think Valdris? What should we call him? I've never got to name anyone before."

"I'm not surprised." I muttered in response. Ariadene could babble to extremes sometimes. "And I don't care. Hurry up, we have to get moving."

I hadn't moved far, searching for a place where I might have some privacy, before I heard her whisper to him.

"Don't mind him, he's always moody."

I was on the verge of turning around and snapping at her, but as always I ignored my compulsions and let the matter drop. She could think what she liked. Unfortunately, what she thought also seemed to be what most of our order thought. Did I really come across so badly?

When I returned, Ariadene was busily listing names, and the slave was tightly curled in the blanket, trying desperately not to fall back to sleep. Today was going to be a long day for him.

"Are you ready?" I asked, slinging my pack over my shoulders, waiting for them to rise.

"But I haven't thought of a name yet." Ariadene complained, getting up anyway. I watched the slave do likewise, a little unstable on his feet.

"He's called Mastema." I blurted out. They both stared at me, though neither gave any sign of arguing. I hadn't a clue why I'd said it, other than out of impatience. It had been my grandfather's name, rather old fashioned and too grand for a slave.

But he's not a slave anymore, I reminded myself.

"Mastema it is then." My partner smiled, patting him lightly on the shoulder. She seemed not to notice him flinch, though I could tell he was making an effort not to be so jumpy.

And so, Ariadene, Mastema (whose name was rather quickly shortened to "Tema" pronounced "Tay-mah" despite my disapproval) and myself began the long journey back to our home, stopping only when I thought our new companion was showing signs of exhaustion, and ignoring Ariadene's disapproval at the pace I was setting. I wanted to cover as much ground as possible, return before nightfall to avoid any beasts that might still be on our trail. Was I the only one who thought of such things?

By the time the sun was low on the horizon, Mastema seemed far more comfortable in our presence, though I often saw his gaze become glassy, as if his mind were elsewhere, and not once did he smile.

It made me wonder what exactly he'd been through to seem so haunted.