【战锤40k同人作品翻译】 Ennui 第三十三章：真理 Veritas
本章概述：
亚历莎打了一架。
In which Alessa picks a fight..
正文：
大厅里一片寂静。
时值子夜，这样的安静并不出乎意料。到头来，我们还是花上了接近一整天来和乌泰娜交换对现状的报告，当我和伊莎莱离开她的办公室时，大厅中只有夜班守卫还在岗，而她们也只满足了这个岗位需要的最低人员定额。
“局势远比我预想的严峻，”我轻声说道，朝着乌泰娜给我们分配的住处走去。“不过现在我明白我们登陆时隐修院的姐妹们有多措不及防了。”
“兽人极少隐蔽地出击，”伊莎莱赞同道。“但也因为这种稀缺性，当它们这么做时往往能出奇制胜。”
我能做的只有点头。
这种情况初次发生时，我根本搞不懂为什么我们会如此迅速而不可挽回地溃败。而得知我们的连队并不是唯一一支被这种战术打击的部队，以及敌军战将如此的不同寻常，还是给我带来了一丝扭曲的慰藉。
“亚历莎，”伊莎莱的语气带有疑问。我转过头去，不过那更多是用来表示我在倾听而非因为我需要这么做。“你的盔甲该怎么办？”
“啊，”我低头看着身上的圣殿甲，尤其是接下了那个灵族的猛力刺击的肩甲部分，然后叹了口气。“我想我得呼叫一位负责修复盔甲的姐妹来我们的房间，在进行修复仪式前先把它取下来并为它祝圣吧。”
伊莎莱皱起了眉头，那个表情让我心底涌起了一丝不安。
“莱？”我拉起她的手，在走廊里停下脚步并走到她面前。“有什么事吗？”
她秀美轻颦，然后叹了口气，摇了摇头。
“这真够蠢的，”伊莎莱轻声说道。
“能让你伤心的都不是小事，吾爱，”我回应道。“告诉我怎么了，好吗？”
伊莎莱又一次叹气，从我的手中抽身出来，转而把手放在了我的脸上。她的拇指摸索着我的脸颊，在我眼睛下方的鸢尾花刺青上犹豫了片刻，最终她还是把我拉近，热切地吻上了我。
承认自己在她的拥吻下惊叫出声让我有些不好意思，但我还是一如既往地融化在她的怀抱中。她的嘴唇的柔软，以及它们的味道，我永远都抗拒不了。
当我们分开时，她仿佛有些恼火地俯视着我的双眼。
“我不想让其他女人触碰你，亚历莎，”她坦白道，我的呼吸因她的话语凝滞在了胸口。
说真的，我还没有想过这个问题。移除我的盔甲的行为完全是仪式性的。阿尔伯雷亚修道院的仆役们—通常都是那些试图成为修女却没能在训练中坚持下来的人—会尽她们所能地通过担任各种辅助角色来服务于修女会。其中一种角色就是作为仪式盔甲匠，因这是最接近于身着受祝战甲的职位而被仆役们视作至高的荣誉之一。
但现在随着伊莎莱把这句话挑明了讲，我发现让另一个女人—哪怕只是一名仆役—触摸我的想法……很不愉快。
“你的姐妹们会允许我自行学习那些必要的仪式吗？”伊莎莱片刻后说道。
“我……我不太确定，”我承认。“不过我会跟乌泰娜大修女谈谈的，如果可能的话，她应该会授予这项圣职的。”
伊莎莱点了点头。
“在那之前，我会在你的帮助下自行处置，”我微笑着说。“有些部分即使是外行人也能帮上忙，只是要多花些时间罢了。”
“只要你愿意，”伊莎莱略带感激地说，她俯下身来，让我们的额头抵在一起。“谢谢你，Cre’yth。”
我的脸上不禁浮现起微笑。她的存在，她的话语，她的触碰……对我来说都是不可比拟的宽慰。我不知道自己在有伊莎莱之前是怎么活下来的，但那段过往一定沉闷、晦暗到了极点。
现在，即便我的视野已经被黑与金的影子冲刷干净，我的世界却远比这更加明亮。就算不能视物，我还能嗅到她，虽然我仍挂念着她日出般的长发和迷人的紫藤色双眼，但我拥有着她，更胜于此的是，我拥有她的爱。
一如她也拥有我的。
我们向自己的宿舍走去，而我试着不去想它们有多么空无一物。的确，这意味着我们可以不受我的姐妹们烦扰地到达我们的房间—虽说我敢根据那阵阵炫光打赌大部分人都对这项安排不太满意，可是这也意味着我的修会遭受了惨重的损失。
如果那意味着我们的修道院要塞仍齐装满员，我就得忍受一大群“达尼卡”们。
即便在众目睽睽之下，我也和伊莎莱携手同行。有那么一个瞬间，她试图抽出手来并置身于我之后，似乎是想把自己放到一个更卑顺的位置上，我则握紧她的手，制止了她的进一步动作。
“让她们看着吧，”我低声说着，和她穿过了一群怒目而视的姐妹们。“我们已经经受了神皇的裁决，吾爱。她们的想法高不过祂的圣裁。”
“如你所言，”伊莎莱轻声回应道。
最终到达我们的房间里令人倍感解脱，而看到房间里摆着两张床让我忍不住笑了出来。
就好像我们真的会用上它们似的。
角落里立着一座武器架，摆放着所有必备的圣油，一个装着额外的几件紧身服的衣柜，以及紧邻其侧的一间小浴室。虽然对我们两个人来说浴室稍显拥挤，但我想我们应付得来。
不与伊莎莱共浴感觉上实在太奇怪了，我发觉自己怀念起在我们的小尖塔房里的浴池，正如我之前料想的那样。
“来吧，”我走到武器架前说，“我把自己能做到的都教给你。”
在接下来的一个小时里，我教授伊莎莱如何进行正确的仪式和祈祷，以及在哪里涂抹她获准接触的圣油，哪些需要等我来处理。如我所料，这花费了远超我找来一位盔甲匠所需的功夫，但与伊莎莱一同完成这些动作所带来的安心感足以抵消掉额外的时间。
伊莎莱打理这件圣洁战甲时所展现的投入，细心，和爱意，以及她在念诵那些简短的祷文时的语气中的信仰，让整个仪式感觉上更为强烈。
伊莎莱安置好了最后一块甲片，并用沾有圣油的布仔细擦拭，与此同时我按摩着自己的手臂。现在我的身体感觉上比几周前要强健得多，但酸痛依旧。相比从遇到伊莎莱前受到的伤势中愈合和从为她的灵魂斡旋时所受的灵能冲击中恢复，我近期让自己的身体承受了太多。
当然，这一切都是值得的，我一边想着一边看向伊莎莱，心中为她的灵魂中绽放的信仰之光而欢欣鼓舞。
伊莎莱站着完成了最后的仪式，她只差一点就能藏住自己的面部的抽搐。
“还有其他的仪式需要完成吗，亚历莎？“她问道。
“没了，不过盔甲匠明天会来修复肩甲和关节，”我回答道。“我们的下一项任务是你，‘莱。”
她皱起了眉头。
“我没—”
“请不要对我撒谎，‘莱，”我低声说道，伊莎莱的后半句话卡在了嘴边。“如果你觉得我会忘记自己深爱的女人还带着伤，那我真不知道该说什么好了。”
“受难者蒙福，因蒙福的祂替我们而受难，”伊莎莱轻声念道。“我的伤与痛均为苦修，而两者退却之迅速也远胜常人……所以说，真的，Cre’yth，我没事的。”
“那对我来说呢？”
说出这句话令我略感痛苦，尤其是鉴于伊莎莱听到这句话时的表情。那表情中包含困惑，痛惜，以及一丝真切的惊恐。即便是现在，离我见到她拥有完整的情感已经过去了好几天，那些情绪在她的脸上交替之迅速也令我陌生。
这一个多太阳系标准月里，我已经习惯了她那无处不在的挪揄或恼火的表情，可现在，她的灵魂已经从诅咒了她的种族的亚空间刻痕中解放了出来，让她此生第一次有了真情实感，而很明显，她对这些感受还不甚了解。
“如果换做我对你强颜欢笑，你会怎么想？”我继续说道，伊莎莱稍稍低下了头。
“嗯？”
伊莎莱恼火地呼出一口气，摇了摇头。“我会心痛的，你也知道，亚历莎……当我看到你用肩接下了那个女妖的剑刃，当我听到你的嘶喊，我心如刀割。”
“那就不要在自己受伤时告诉我你没事了，”我向她走近，牵起她的手带她走到床边坐下。“至少让我看看。”
“我的肩膀几乎已经痊愈了，”伊莎莱说着脱下了还密布着手雷破片的胫甲，把它们放到一边。“我的膝盖还是有些僵硬和疼痛，但……”
我看着那道皮开肉绽的伤口皱起了眉头。如果她是人类的话我毫不怀疑她会惨叫出声，但伊莎莱早就向我解释过她的身体被改造到了何种地步。她的血液里可能已经充满了麻醉药剂，而从不多的血渍来看，我猜那个伤口早在流血前就几乎已经被肌肉收缩和血液高凝给封闭住了。
“看吧，”伊莎莱轻声说。“除了让它自然愈合外没有什么可做的。今天受到的这点伤害可远比我以前经历过的要轻得多。”
我轻轻抚上她的膝盖上那道粗硬的伤疤。“但这些伤是为了保护我和我的姐妹们而受的，所以它们不一样。”
伊莎莱叹了口气，随即轻笑起来。
“我觉得也是，Cre’yth。”她附和道。
我俯下身去，轻柔地吻了吻她的伤口，然后坐起身来，依偎在伊莎莱身边。她把头靠在我的头上，双手环过我的腰间，把我紧紧地抱在怀里，解脱地长舒一口气。
“这样好多了。”伊莎莱低声说。“这比你穿着那套铠甲的时候抱起来要舒服得多。”
我轻笑着回过头来，抬起她的脸印下温柔一吻，然后开始脱她剩下的那一点护甲。
淋浴的事可以先放一放了。
那一晚，自伊莎莱摆脱她的诅咒起，我们再一次共享鱼水之欢。
床并不是特别柔软，我们也没有多少空间，但感觉上丝毫不差，甚至更胜一筹。伊莎莱的双手对我温柔备至，而她压在我身上的重量—就算抛开她的手指的动作—也令我颤抖不止。
她的嘴找上了我的每一处柔软和敏感，到最后，我几乎已经无法思考。
有些时候我会觉得自己没有回报给伊莎莱足够的爱，但同时我也知道她并不在乎这些。她最欢的就是宠溺我，而尽管我仍在战士之列，我也承认自己很享受被温柔以待。
伊莎莱对我总是那么温柔。
伊莎莱的呼吸温暖地打在我的后颈上。她从背后环抱着我，双臂紧紧地贴在我身上，脸庞埋在我的头发间。床还是窄了点，也和我在阿尔伯雷亚修道院训练的日子里所记得的那样硬，但这点空间对我们来说够用，对我来说足矣。
如果我能入睡就好了。
伊莎莱睡得很沉。自神皇降赐与她起，她就睡得比我的记忆里那样深得多，除了最后几个在诅咒中日益倾颓的昼夜外，不过我那时没能意识到。可那些时候的熟睡是因为她的身体正日渐凋零。现在在我看来，她的安眠源于内心的平静。
我发现自己对此感到一丝嫉妒。
只是有点。
我小心翼翼地搭上伊莎莱的手，把它从我的腰间拿开以从床上站起来。但她还是随着床垫的挪动微微睁开双眼，皱起了眉头，睡眼惺忪地拍了拍我腾出来的床位。
“我在这，”我轻声说着，在床边跪下来。”只是去场地里走走而已。”
“那我跟你一起，”伊莎莱想要起身，但我在她动起来前便一只手按到她的肩膀上。
“留下来休息，”我回答道，然后捉起她的手，在她的指节上吻了一下。”我不会有事的，你这样休息能快些恢复……而且，我需要一些时间独自思考。”
她的眉头拧紧了些，但还是点了点头。我露出一个微笑，然后开始穿上我的紧身服，以及一件能够抵挡夜晚的寒意的外套。与此同时，伊莎莱在她的枕头下摸索了一阵，然后从里面抽出了她的其中一支手枪。
“至少把这个带上，”她坚决地说道，把武器递了过来。
我做了个鬼脸。
“它之前就在那？”我发问道，伊莎莱可算赏脸，露出一个尴尬的表情。“即使在我们—”
“都上了保险了，”伊莎莱弱弱地说。
我无奈地叹了口气，但没过几秒又笑着接过“藜芦”，我在紧身服的腰带上装上一个手枪套，并把枪塞了进去。
“你可真是没救了，’莱，”我在她躺回去时说道。“我很快就回来，好不好？”
“我知道了，”伊莎莱轻声说。“注意安全，吾爱。”
走廊上的人并没有我们上床睡觉时那么多。至少，我们已经花了将近一整天来休息和恢复，但这段时光马上就要结束了。等到明天的黎明。尽管还有几个小时，战争就会再次驾临，我们的战斗将再次打响。
不过这一次，我们会在一支部队的支援下作战，一支并不信任我们的部队。
我沉着脸走过长长的走廊，偶然地与一支巡逻队擦肩而过，我不确定她们对我的无视是出于鄙夷还是职责所在。为了我的姐妹们起见，我努力地让自己相信是后者，但我和伊莎莱的关系使这并不容易。
无论我是怎么跟伊莎莱说的，我们走向房间时受到的怒视依旧困扰着我。我的姐妹们对我的挚爱报以敌意和猜疑，对我则是厌恶，而我无法责备她们。
如果我站在她们的立场上，我毫不怀疑自己也会持有相似的看法。
然而……
我在胸口前握紧了拳头，面露痛苦之色。我的内心无比煎熬。我对伊莎莱的爱之深切依旧无从掩饰，并且神皇本尊已经祝福了我们，那么否认它就是背离地球之主的旨意！
然而……
我咬紧牙关，转身走向训练大厅。我愈发得不满足于现状，更甚于此的是我越来越懊恼。一次循环训练至少能让我发泄一部分沮丧之情。我在走廊里走得越远，经过的姐妹们就越多，我也反应过来自己显然并不是我的姐妹会中唯一受到剑锋的召唤的人。
我们四面受敌，被一个不知荣誉和常理为何物的敌人所围困。和我饱受磨难的修会相比，沮丧之情或许是我们仍有的共同点，不论她们还是否会接纳我。
在我经过她们以寻找一间空场地时，她们的目光更像是给出了“否”的回答。
“神皇赐我力量，”我默念着走进了一间空无一人的房间。
房间里很凉爽，灯光在我进门时闪烁着点亮。整个房间呈圆形布置，直径刚好超过十米。在我看来这是相对较小的一间。我曾经习惯于阿尔伯雷亚修道院里的大型训练厅，但要塞修道院比隐修院要大出许多倍，因此花园隐修院里有尺寸更合适的房间也合乎常理。
房间的东墙上有着一座大号的训练用武器架，每一件兵器都被细心地清洁与润滑过。
我向它们走去，双手抚过一个个握柄，左右挑拣后找到了一把轻剑。它让我想起了伊莎莱的剃刀连枷收起来的形状，这个想法令我会心一笑。
门廊里响起了金属撞击石块的声音，我转过身去，看见一张熟悉的面孔正在门口瞪着我，旁边围着两名隐修院的姐妹。
“你胆敢用你的存在亵渎这些圣所，异端，”达尼卡撇着嘴上下打量着我。“还是说，你觉得我们不知道你跟那个东西共处一室时做了什么污秽之举？”
我沉默地褪去外套并把它挂在架子上，然后转过身去尽可能面无表情地打量着她，用我失明的目光给予她沉重的压迫感。
“你指控我与伊莎莱有染？”我平静地发问，一边挥动手中的训练剑以测试它的平衡。
“我要指控你的不止这点，”达尼卡简略地回答道。“但既然你都说了，的确，我就是这么认为。
“那就在挑战之环中提出你的指控吧，姐妹，”我猛地把剑锋指向她的方向，沿着剑身怒视着她。“除非尔之舌胜于尔之技。”
达尼卡的脸上涌起一丝怒火，她身旁的两个女人整齐划一地做出了同样的表情。
“不穿盔甲格斗可是很危险的，异端，”她尖刻地说着走过我的身旁，并推开我以拿起一柄重型双手训练剑。“你确定不是汝的舌头捷足先登了？”
正如我之前所说，我曾在好几天里仅仅与伊莎莱的嘲讽和挪揄交谈过。在这一刻我对此心存感激——当达尼卡走过我进入环中时，我也尽自己所能地对着她模仿了伊莎莱最居高临下的坏笑。
我模仿得一定相当好，达尼卡睁大的双眼里的怒火几乎要喷薄而出。
“干什么？！”达尼卡在我站到她对面时咆哮起来。“给我收起你那副嘴脸，混账！”
“真不好意思，姐妹，”我说着收敛了脸上的笑容。“我只是想，我没穿盔甲这件事只在你能打中我的时候才有关系。”
我满意地听到达尼卡的某个同伴发出了一声绷不住的低吼，达尼卡铁青着脸把训练剑摆出了最具侵略性的招式。
“我会很乐意打断你的骨头，女巫，”达尼卡吼道。
“而我很乐意看着你打空。”
这就是最后一捆稻草。没有任何警告的话语或者对正式开始的提请，达尼卡发出一声战吼并猛冲过来，瞬息间就跨过了数米的距离。她的重剑承载着巨大的力量劈开了空气。
然后什么也没打中。
达尼卡的躯体因信仰和热忱而闪耀，使得我能透过金与黑的灵视轻松地看到她，而在她动起来时，我首先想到的就是她慢到了什么地步。
不过话说回来，谁跟伊莎莱相比都很慢。
我没有后退也没有举剑格挡。挡下这般沉重的武器，加上达尼卡挥剑时的力道，在最好的情况下只会成功地折断我的手腕。
相反，我进入了Lacerai的第一式。按照伊莎莱教给我的，首要原则是与任何一个巫灵教派类似的侵略性。一个巫灵不会退缩，她们会在舞步中化解敌人的攻击。
于是我迎上了达尼卡的冲击，低身，探入，然后绕过她的挥击。我移动时她脸上不加掩饰的震惊看起来近乎滑稽。我的训练剑击中了她的侧身，在髋关节和屈肌与她的胸甲相交的位置，她在我的击打下蜷缩起来，从口中挤出的空气发出了一声痛苦的鸣叫。
达尼卡的脚步踉跄起来，她挥动武器打出了一记狂野的杀招，而我俯身躲开，站稳脚跟并向前冲去。即便我还记得自己用的不是剃刀连枷，我的拇指还是本能地滑过剑柄以释放剑锋，但这没关系。我已经轻易地接近并猛击在达尼卡胸前的天鹰徽下，甲片交叠的位置上。
陶钢随着我的剑锋出现一丝裂纹而咔咔作响，达尼卡以旋风般的连击回敬，以专业的螺旋击将重剑挥成了一面由劈砍形成的盾墙，以期将她的敌人逼退。
慢。
太慢了
我在她的攻击的切分间移动，如伊莎莱教我的那样随着她的攻击节奏起舞。
“战斗就像跳舞，”她告诉我。”其中既有步法，也有旋律。如果你能听到旋律并懂得步伐，那你只需要做那个更胜一筹的舞者。”
当我在达尼卡的攻击间躲闪屈伸时，我在她眼中一定像是个鬼魂。她的脸色越来越红，每次失手都让她的愤怒增添一分。
达尼卡又一次大吼起来，听着有点像一头恼火的格洛克斯兽，她一个箭步向我冲来，用积累起来的动量挥出了闪电般的一击。如果这记势不可挡的杀招得手，它就能将我击得粉碎。
相反，达尼卡的动力甲驱使的力量将剑身击碎在了地板上，而我则翻身跃起让攻击从我背后掠过，我在空中转体以积蓄力量，将我的剑刃狠狠地劈向她的头颅剃光的那一侧。
如果这一击命中，那她就跟被我用剃刀连枷劈中一样必死无疑，于是我在最后一刻将剑转为剑脊向下，对达尼卡的脑袋打下一记响亮的抽打，让她毫无形象地侧身倒在训练环的地面上，而她的双手重剑尖端折断，剑身皲裂，伴着巨响在她身旁碎了一地。
我蜷起身子以吸收落地时的冲击，然后站到达尼卡面前，张开嘴想说点什么，可我的话随着脑海中某种灾难性的预示闪过而卡在了喉咙里。
本能驱使着我。我的感知力从脑后嘶鸣起来，我来不及细想便弓身跃起，对着身后闪起的凶光挥出一阵防御性的剑刃狂风，爆弹枪的开火声骤然炸响，就在达尼卡的一个姐妹用副武器对着我开了一枪的同时，我短暂地看清了她脸上惊恐的神情。
弹头炸裂开来，我的躯体猛地冲向了训练房的另一头，而一道阴影在同一时间从那两个观战的姐妹中间倾泻而出，一只巨手将手枪从袭击者的握持中一把扯了下来。
安塔雷斯大人咆哮着将那把火器撇向一边。
“蠢货 ！”他的吼声透过我嗡嗡作响的耳朵显得十分尖锐。“战斗已经结束了！”
两名姐妹踉跄着跪了下来，开枪的那个没完没了地道歉起来。我用重拾的理智推断她已经吓傻了。她还以为我想要杀了达尼卡修女。
“亚历桑德拉修女是用剑身攻击的，娜丽莎修女，她要是动了杀心的话你已经晚了！”安塔雷斯厉声说道。他炸雷般的嗓音为他震慑全场的怒火增色不少。“现在赶紧呼叫医疗队！如果她还没死的话—”
“我没事！”我摇摇晃晃地站起来叫道。我的手腕异常疼痛，我的手也完全麻木了，“有几处破片造成的灼伤，但我没事，天使大人。我会活下去。不然伊莎莱就该生气了。”
即便被偷窥完全遮住了面部，我也能从安塔雷斯的肢体语言中读出他的惊讶。同样的震惊在姐妹们的脸上也清晰可见。
有趣的是，达尼卡仍然被震的不省人事，倒在地上呻吟不止。
“唯一需要医疗队的或许是那个，”我轻快地指了指达尼卡，然后转身，屈膝，拿起我已经损毁的训练剑。
“剑刃接住了飞行中的爆弹，偏折并提前引爆了它。”我转身回到三人面前，向他们展示这把破碎的武器。“诱导后的爆炸没能打中任何东西，不过它在引爆时处于飞行姿态，再加上冲击力才把我抛到了一边去。”
或许这么一来倒让我免受更严重的烧伤。
真是走运。
“用这种方式来解释你凌空劈开了从背后射来的爆弹可真够谦虚的，”安塔雷斯大人直言不讳。
“背后和面前对我来说区别不大，”我耸了耸肩说。“我双目失明，但出于神圣陛下的恩典我仍能视物。“
随后我露出微笑，举起了破碎的剑刃，把它扔到了两名姐妹和阿斯塔特的脚下。
“或者更准确的说：帝皇庇佑。”
原文：
The halls were silent.
It was deep into the night cycle, though, so I suppose that was to be expected. Still, it had taken us nearly the entirety of the cycle to exchange situation reports with Utena, and by the time Isarae and I left her office, only the evening guard remained on duty, and they were a skeleton crew at best.
“The situation is far direr than I expected,” I said quietly as we made our way to the quarters Utena had assigned us. “But now I understand how my sisters of the Convent were taken so badly off-guard when we landed.”
“Orks rarely strike in stealth,” Isarae agreed. “Which makes the times that they do all the more effective for their rarity.”
I could only nod.
When it had first happened I couldn’t fathom how we had fallen so quickly and decisively. To know that our company was not the only one to be struck with such tactics, and that the enemy Warboss was such an unusual foe, brought a perverse kind of comfort to me.
“Alessa?” Isarae’s tone carried a query and I turned my head, though it was more to show that I was listening than because I needed to. “What of your armour?”
“Ah,” I looked down at the Chapel Armour, and more pointedly at the pauldron which had caught the Eldar’s powered thrust, and sighed. “I suppose I’ll have to call one of the sister-armourers to our quarters to have it removed and sanctified before the rites of repair can begin.”
Isarae frowned at that, and the expression sent a flutter of apprehension through me.
“‘Rae?” I took her hand in mine, stopping in the hall and stepping in front of her. “What’s wrong?”
Her lovely brow furrowed for a moment, then she sighed and shook her head.
“It is foolish,” Isarae said quietly.
“Not if saddens you, my love,” I countered. “Tell me what’s wrong, please?”
Isarae sighed again, removing her hands from mine and placing them on either side of my face. Her thumbs traced along my cheeks and under my eyes, the pad of her thumb hesitating over my fleur de lis tattoo for a moment, before finally she pulled me close and pressed her lips to mine with a furious passion.
I am a bit embarrassed to admit I may have squeaked around her lips in surprise, but I melted against her the same as I always did. The softness of her lips, and the taste of them, were something I would never have enough of.
When we parted, she was looking down into my eyes with something like anger.
“I do not want another woman’s hands upon you, Alessa,” she admitted, and my breath caught in my chest at her words.
In truth, I’d never considered it. The act of removing my armour had only ever been a ceremonial one. Serfs of the Convent Arborea, usually those who had tried to become sisters but had not been able to endure the training, served as they were able to by supporting the Adeptus Sororitas in various ancillary roles. One of those roles was as a ritual armourer, and it was considered one of the greatest honors as it was the closest they would get to wearing the sacred wargear.
But now that Isarae had said it out loud, I found the notion of another woman, even only a serf, laying her hands upon me to be… unpleasant.
“Would your sisterhood permit me to learn the necessary rites myself?” Isarae said after a moment.
“I… I’m not certain,” I admitted. “But I will speak to Canoness Utena, she could provide the holy orders if it were possible.”
Isarae nodded at that.
“And until then, I’ll manage it myself with your help,” I continued, smiling. “There are some parts a layperson can aid with, it will just take longer.”
“If you are willing,” Isarae said with a hint of gratitude as she leaned down to rest her forehead against mine. “Thank you, Cre’yth.”
I could not keep the smile from my face. Her presence, her words, her touch… they were all immeasurably comforting to me. How I lived without Isarae before this, I do not know, but what a dull, gray life it must have been.
Now, despite my vision having been washed away in shades of black and gold, my world was so much brighter. Even blind, I can still smell her, and although I miss the sunrise quality of her hair and those haunting wisteria eyes, I still had her, and better yet I had her love.
As she had mine.
We made our way to the dormitories, and I tried not to think on just how empty they were. True, it meant that we were able to reach our quarters without trouble from my sisters, although I wagered from the glares that most were none-too-happy with the arrangement, but it also meant that my order was sorely wounded.
I would have endured a dozen Danikas if it meant that the Priory garrison was still hale and full.
Regardless of the looks, though, I walked hand-in-hand with Isarae, and on the one occasion she made to take her hand from mine and move behind me, putting herself in a more subservient position, I stopped her with a hard grip.
“Let them look,” I said under my breath as we passed through a mess hall full of glaring sisters. “The God-Emperor has already judged us, my love. Their opinions are not the greater of His.”
“As you say,” Isarae replied quietly.
It was a relief to finally reach our quarters, and I found myself chuckling as I noted the presence of two beds.
As if we would use them.
There was an armament stand in the corner with all the necessary sacred oils, a dresser containing a few extra bodygloves, and an ablutionary chamber attached to the side that would be snug for the both of us, but I imagined we could make it work.
It would feel too odd to bathe without Isarae now, and I found myself missing the bath in our little Spirehab home as much as I had thought I would.
“Come,” I said, striding over to the armour stand. “Let me teach you what I can.”
Over the course of the next hour, I walked Isarae through the proper rites and prayers, and where to apply the oils she was permitted to touch, and what she had to wait for me to get to. As I predicted, it took far longer than it would have had I simply called in an armourer, but the comfort of going through these motions with Isarae was more than equal to the extra time spent.
The devotion, care, and love with which Isarae handled the sacred armour, and the faith in her tone when she spoke the simple rites, made the ritual feel all the stronger.
I massaged my arms as Isarae settled the last piece in place on the armour stand, running a rag laden with sacred oils over it as she did. My body was feeling much stronger now than it in weeks, but I was still sore. Between healing from my wounds I’d earned prior to meeting Isarae and recovering from the warpshock of interceding for her soul, I’d put my body through quite a lot lately.
All worth it, of course, I thought as I turned my attention to Isarae, and my heart swelled at the aura of faith that was blooming from her soul.
Isarae stood as the final rites were completed, and she very nearly hid her wince as she did so.
“Are there any further rites, Alessa?” She asked.
“No, although the armourers will have to repair the pauldron and joints tomorrow,” I replied. “Our next task is you, ‘Rae.”
She furrowed her brow.
“I am-”
“Please don’t lie to me, ‘Rae,” I said quietly, and Isarae’s words died on her tongue. “If you think I’ve forgotten that the woman I love is injured then I’m not sure what to say.”
Isarae looked away from me for a moment before speaking.
“Blessed are those who suffer, for blessed is He who suffers for us,” Isarae recited quietly. “My pain and injuries are penance, and both fade quicker than most… so, truly, Cre’yth, I am fine.”
“And what of me?”
It pained me a little to say that, especially given the look on Isarae’s face when I did. There was confusion, hurt, and a touch of real panic. Even now, after many cycles of seeing her feel emotions fully, it was a little strange how quickly those emotions crossed her face.
For more than a solar standard month, I had gotten accustomed to the omnipresent expressions of wry amusement or vague annoyance, now, though, with her soul free of the warptaint that cursed her kind, she could feel for the first time, and it was clear that the feelings were raw.
“Were I to suffer and tell you I was fine, would you be?” I continued, and Isarae sagged a little at my words.
“Well?”
Isarae huffed and shook her head. “I would not, and you know that, Alessa… when I saw you take the Banshee’s blade to your shoulder, and heard you scream, I felt as though my heart were being torn from my chest.”
“Then do not tell me you’re fine if you are injured,” I said as I stepped closer and took her hand, guiding her to the bedside and forcing her to sit down. “Let me at least see it.”
“My shoulder is almost healed,” Isarae replied as she removed the layered plates of her greaves which were peppered with shrapnel from my grenade, and set them aside. “My knee is stiff and pained, but…”
I grimaced at the puckered injury. If she were human I have no doubt she would be screaming, but Isarae had long ago explained the lengths to which her body had been modified. Her blood was likely flooded with narcotic painkillers even now, and from the limited stains, I’d guess that the wound barely had a chance to bleed before the muscular contractions and hypercoagulants had sealed it up.
“You see?” Isarae said quietly. “There is nothing to be done but to let it heal. I’ve taken far worse injuries in my time than the ones dealt to me today.”
Her scarred flesh was rough and raw under my fingers as I ran my hands across her knee. “But these injuries were earned protecting me and my sisters, so they are different.”
Isarae sighed, then chuckled wryly.
“Yes, I suppose they are, Cre’yth,” she agreed.
Leaning down, I pressed my lips to the wound gently before sitting up and moving to Isarae’s side to curl up against her. She rested her head against mine, sliding her arms around my waist, and pulled me tight against her, sighing quietly in relief as she did.
“Better,” Isarae muttered. “This is far better than holding you when you’re in that armour.”
I laughed quietly as I pulled back and angled her face down to mine to meet her lips in a gentle kiss as I tugged at the rest of her scant armour.
The shower could wait.
We made love again that night for the first time since Isarae had been healed of her curse.
The bed was not nearly as soft, and we didn’t have as much room, and yet somehow it was just as good if not better. Isarae’s hands were so gentle with me, and her weight on my body was a sensation that made me shiver even aside from the things her fingers were doing to me.
Her mouth found every soft and sensitive part of me, and by the time we were finished I was barely able to think straight.
There are times I think I don’t reciprocate enough to Isarae, but at the same time I know that’s not what she cares about. She loves, more than anything else, to dote on me, and despite my rank and status as a warrior, I confess that it is nice to be treated gently now and again.
And Isarae is only ever gentle with me.
Isarae’s breath was slow and warm against the back of my neck. She was curled around me from behind, her arms firmly set about me, and her face buried against my hair. The bed was a bit narrow, and as hard as I recall from my days spent training in the Convent Arborea, but there was room enough for us, and that was enough for me.
If only I could sleep.
Isarae was sleeping soundly. Ever since the hand of the God-Emperor was upon her, she has rested more deeply than I ever recall, save for the last several cycles when she was deteriorating under her curse, though I didn’t realise it at the time. Those times were because her body was failing her, though. Now, I think, she sleeps soundly because she is at peace.
That is something I find myself just a little envious of.
Only a little.
Carefully, I laid a hand over Isarae’s and pulled it free of my waist, freeing myself so I could rise. Her eyes fluttered open as the mattress shifted, though, and she frowned as she patted sleepily at my emptied space.
“I’m here,” I spoke quietly, and knelt by the bed. “I’m just going to walk the grounds for a bit.”
“I’ll join you, then.” Isarae started to rise, but I laid a hand on her shoulder before she could move.
“Stay and rest,” I replied before capturing her hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “I’ll be fine, and you’ll heal faster this way… besides, I could use the time alone to think.”
Her frown deepened a little but she nodded. I smiled at that and stood to start pulling on my bodyglove, along with a long coat to keep the chill of the evening cycle away. As I did Isarae shuffled around a bit, beneath her pillow, then drew out one of her pistols.
“Take this, at least,” she said pointedly, holding out the weapon.
I scowled.
“Was that under there the whole time?” I asked, and Isarae at least had the good grace to look embarrassed. “Even while we were-?
“The safety was on,” Isarae said sheepishly.
I groaned, but the sound turned into a chuckle a moment later as I accepted Hellebore, fitted one of the holsters to the bodyglove belt, and slid the weapon into place.
“You’re incorrigible, ‘Rae,” I said as she laid back down. “I’ll be back soon, alright?”
“I know,” Isarae said quietly. “Be safe, my love.”
The halls were no more busy now than they were when we had gone to bed. At least we’d had almost a full cycle to rest and recover, but that time was nearing the end. By dawn tomorrow, though that was still several hours away, the war would be back at our doorstep, and our fight would begin anew.
This time, though, we would be fighting with an army at our backs, and one that did not trust us at that.
I frowned as I walked the long stretches of halls, occasionally passing a patrol which ignored me, though whether that was out of disdain or duty I’m not sure. For the sake of my sisters, I try hard to assume the latter, but my relationship with Isarae makes that difficult.
The glares we garnered just walking to our quarters still haunted me, whatever I said to Isarae. My sisters viewed my dearest with hatred and distrust, and me with disgust, and I cannot say I blamed them.
Were I in their position, I do not doubt I would have a similar point of view.
And yet…
I clenched a fist over my heart and grimaced. There was a tightness in my chest. My love for Isarae ran too deep to pretend otherwise, and the God-Emperor himself had blessed us, so to act otherwise would dishonor the will of Him On Earth!
And yet…
Gritting my teeth, I turned and started towards the training halls. I was growing restless, and more than that I was getting frustrated. A training circuit would at least let me vent some of my frustrations. The further down the halls I went, the more of my sisters I passed, and I reflected as I did that I was clearly not the only one of my sisterhood who felt the call of the blade.
We were surrounded by foes on all sides and beset by an enemy who knew no honor and struck in a manner that defied explanation. Frustration was, perhaps, something I still had in common with my beleaguered order, whether they accepted me anymore or not.
The looks I got as I passed them seeking out an empty hall suggest that ‘not’ was the far likelier answer to that query.
“God-Emperor give me strength,” I muttered as I finally found an empty training chamber and stepped inside.
It was cool and the luminators flickered on as I entered. The chamber was circular and just over ten meters across. One of the smaller chambers, at least I thought so. I was used to the great training halls of the Convent Arborea, but the Convent was a fortress many times the size of the Priory, so it stood to reason that the Priory of Gardens might have more reasonably sized rooms.
The east wall of the chamber bore a large rack of training weapons, each one kept meticulously clean and oiled.
I moved to them, running my hands over the various grips, hefting one here and another there, before finally finding a blade that was lighter-weight. It reminded me a little of Isarae’s Razorflail in its collapsed form, and the thought made me smile.
The clink of metal on stone sounded from the doorway, and I turned to find a familiar face glaring at me from it, flanked by two sisters of the Priory.
“You have some nerve to desecrate these holy halls with your presence, heretic,” Danika said, her lip curling as she looked me up and down. “Or do you think we do not know what unclean things you must do with that creature in your shared chambers?”
I shed my greatcoat silently, hang it from the rack, and turn to regard her with as little expression as possible, giving her the full weight of my blind gaze.
“You accuse me of laying with Isarae?” I asked calmly, testing the balance of the practice blade I’d selected with a few arcing swings as I spoke.
“I accuse you of much,” Danika replied curtly. “But as you say it, yes, I do.”
“Then deliver your accusation in the challenge ring, sister.” I jabbed the tip of the blade in her direction, glaring down the length of it. “Unless thy tongue runneth ahead of thy skill.”
Fury flushed across Danika’s cheeks, an expression neatly echoed on the two women flanking her.
“Sparring without armour is dangerous, heretic,” she said pointedly as she stepped past me and nudging me aside to claim a heavy, two-handed practice blade from the rack. “Are you certain it’s not thy tongue which paceth outward?”
As I noted before, I'd spent many cycles with only Isarae’s sarcasm and wry wit for conversation. I found myself grateful for it at that moment as Danika passed me to enter the ring, and I gave her my best approximation of Isarae’s most condescending smirk.
I must have managed it well enough because Danika’s eyes widened with barely restrained fury.
“What?!” Danika snarled as I took my place across from her. “Wipe that loathsome expression off your face, wretch!”
“My apologies, sister,” I said, toning the grin down. “I was only thinking that my lack of armour would only matter in the unlikely circumstance that you actually manage to hit me.”
I’m gratified to hear a tiny, nearly-constrained snort from one of Danika’s companions as her expression freezes into one of cold outrage, and she hefted the training blade to one of the most aggressive forms.
“I’m going to enjoy breaking your bones, witch,” Danika snarled.
“And I’m going to enjoy watching you miss.”
That was the final straw. Without a word of warning or a call for an official start, Danika bellowed a battlecry and surged forward, closing the meters in an instant. Her heavy blade cut through the air with hammering force.
And struck nothing.
Danika’s body was flaring with faith and zeal, making her easy to see through my gold-and-black soulsight, and my first thought as she moved was just how slow she was.
But then, everyone is slow compared to Isarae.
I didn’t move back or raise my blade in guard. Parrying a heavy weapon like that, with as much force as Sister Danika was striking with, would succeed only in giving me a broken wrist, at best.
Instead, I fell into the first steps of the Lacerai. The discipline, as Isarae taught it to me, was one of aggression like any Wych-cult style. A Wych does not retreat, they dance through the strikes of their foe.
So I stepped into Danika’s charge, ducking down, in, and around her swing. The look of blatant shock on her face as I moved was almost funny. My practice blade struck her side at the point where the hip joint and flexor met her breastplate and she folded around my hit with a squawk of pained alarm as her breath left her in a gusty burst.
Danika staggered, swinging her weapon in a wild, killing stroke that I ducked beneath before planting my feet and surging forward. My thumb reflexively slid across the hilt to send the tip of the weapon launching forward even as I remembered I wasn’t wielding the Razorflail, but it didn’t matter. I was easily close enough and I struck Danika hard just beneath the Aquila across her breast where the folds of metal met.
Ceramite creaked as a crack appeared beneath the tip of my blade, and Danika riposted with a spinning whirlwind of strikes, turning the heavy blade in expert spirals around her creating a shieldwall of slicing attacks meant to force her foe back.
Slow.
Too slow.
I moved in the syncopation of her attacks, stepping between the beats of her attacks as Isarae had taught me to.
‘Battle is like a dance,’ She told me. 'There are steps to it, and music as well. If you can hear the music and know the steps, then you must simply be the better dancer.’
I must have seemed like a ghost to Danika as I ducked, bent, and wove between her attacks. Her face was growing redder and more furious with every missed attack.
Danika bellowed again, sounding a bit like an angry grox as she surging forward with a lightning-quick blow carrying all of her built-up momentum. It was a cleaving, killing strike that would have broken me in an instant had it hit.
Instead, the blade shattered against the floor with the sheer force of Danika’s power-armour driven strength, while I turned and vaulted over the attack as it passed behind me, spinning in the air to build up force and bringing my blade down hard on the shaven side of her skull.
If the edge struck her it would have killed her just as certainly as I’d been wielding the Razorflail, so I turned it to the flat side at the last moment and instead laid a ringing blow against Danika’s head that sent her sprawling onto her side on the practice ring floor and her two-handed blade, with its tip snapped off and its length crazed with fissures, clattered deafeningly to the floor beside her.
I landed, body tucked to absorb the impact, standing over Danika, and I opened my mouth to say something else, but the words lodged in my throat as something- a premonition disaster- flashed through my mind.
Instinct drove me. My perceptions were screaming in the back of my mind, and without thinking I lept, curled, and spun into a defensive flurry, aiming my slashes behind me just as a bolter barked, and I had the brief glimpse of a panicked expression on the face of one of Danika’s sisters as she fired a shot from her sidearm at me.
The shell detonated and suddenly I was careening across the practice chamber as a shadow bled out of the threshold behind the two observing sisters to reach out with a single massive hand and tear the pistol from the offender’s grasp.
Lord Antares sent the firearm skittering away with a barked oath.
“FOOL!” He snarled, his voice tinny through my ringing ears. “The fight was done!”
Both sisters staggered away before dropping to a knee, the one who fired babbling apologies. She had panicked, I gathered as my wits reoriented. She had thought I was going to kill Sister Danika.
“Sister Alessandra struck with the flat of her blade, Sister Nalissa, had her intent been to kill you’d have been far too late!” Antares snapped. His booming voice lending thunder to his fury that shook the room. “Now call for a medicae! If she yet lives-!”
“I’m alright!” I called out as I staggered to my feet. My wrist ached abominably, and my hand was completely numb, but I was fine. “A few burns from the shrapnel, but I’m fine, Lord Angel. I will yet live. Isarae would be furious otherwise.”
Even with his full helm masking his face I could see the surprise in Antares’ posture. The same shock was writ clear across the sister’s faces.
Danika, amusingly, was still stunned insensate and groaning on the floor.
“The only need for a medicae might lay with that one,” I gestured to Danika blithely, then turned, knelt, and took up my now-ruined practice sword.
“The blades-edge had caught the bolt shell mid-flight, turned it aside, and detonated it prematurely.” I showed them the shattered weapon as I turned back to the trio. “The shaped explosion struck nothing, but being airborne when it exploded, combined with the force of the impact, sent me hurtling away.”
It had probably saved me from further burns, though.
Lucky, that.
“That is a highly self-effacing way to explain that you survived because you cut a bolt shell out of the air that had been fired at your back,” Lord Antares said bluntly.
“Back and front mean little to me as a distinction,” I said with a shrug. “I am blind, but for the sight granted me by the grace of His Divine Majesty.”
Then I smiled, held up the shattered blade, and tossed it at the feet of both sisters and Astartes.
“Or more accurately shall I say: The Emperor Protects.”
