Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 61

But one of the men stopped- he poked his head around the pillar while his companion chased after the rat. "Oh. . ." He was young, just into adulthood with vibrant black eyes and slightly pale features. A day's worth of stubble didn't hide that strong jaw, though; eastern stock through and through. She'd seen men like this in Sorash and Laleah and they never failed to make her a little fluttery. Strong, exotic, oh yes. . .

Maybe it was the weeks of loneliness speaking. Leslie gave him a slight smile. "So this is a little awkward."

"Just a bit," the young man stepped from around the pillar and turned his stick downward. "Uhm, were you up here meditating?" He had a slight but noticeable southern accent, thin and airy as if the words were running from his mouth.

The scuffling from the other young man stopped, a shrill cry from the rat being caught announced his successful hunt but neither Leslie or the other man looked his way. In fact, and without either of them seeming to realize it, they were looking one another over-- Leslie became keenly aware of that gaze tracing her outline until they met. Gods he was handsome.

She cleared her throat, not fully trusting her voice. "Is this place a temple?"

At that moment the other young man burst out from behind one of the pillars. Leslie startled to the side and her dress went right into its warrior routine. In the ensuing awkwardness he held his struggling rat up in a thick glove with an expression of 'tada?'

The three of them looked between one another. Bright Eyes chuckled. "Eye on the prize, huh?"

His companion looked at Leslie oddly. "Yeah, but who really found the prize?"

Leslie rolled her eyes. "I came a long way looking for the temple of Isira, is this it?"

It was Bright Eyes who spoke up. "It is, yeah. But how'd you get in here? How'd you find this place?"

"It's a long story. Uh, can I talk to whoever is in charge?"

The two looked at one another dubiously and both opened their mouths to speak, Leslie held up her hands trying to convey her non-hostile intentions. Eventually Bright Eyes untangled a rope from around his stick and slung it over his shoulder. "I think that's probably a good idea. Maybe we can get some tea afterwards, too."

"Hey, no fair." The other man said. "Why don't you join me for an ale instead? I'm much more fun than this clown." He nudged his buddy.

"Uh, I'll keep it in mind." Leslie forced her dress to something more practical and smoothed out the rumpled bodice, suddenly aware of the two men's lingering gaze. It wasn't creepy exactly, but strangely. . . .worshipful. Appreciative. She turned on her heel to hide the heat welling up on her cheeks. "So! Let's go meet this person."

"Sure, sure. . ." In a second Bright Eyes was at her side offering his elbow. "Name's Erril."

Leslie drew back. "Nice to meet you, Erril. Uh, don't take this the wrong way, but you've been handling rats- I'd rather not."

"Probably not the dirtiest thing that's been in his hand either, let's be honest. I'm Cler, by the by. Nice t'meetchya." After a moment he seemed to pick up on something. "You're from the deep south, aren't you? Gods, you're a long way from home."

"My grandmother was from the Forgotten Lands, yeah. How'd you know?"

"It's the skin," he went to touch her and when she drew back again he removed his glove with a hand held up. "Look, look." Again he went to touch her and again she drew back.

Erril stepped in and wrapped his arm around his friend's shoulder, pulling him down and grinding his knuckles into his skull lightly. "Sorry, he sleeps through etiquette courses. Never learned how to treat an avatar of the goddess with the respect she's due." A bit more grinding and he pushed the young man away, laughing.

"Oh come on," Cler whined. "Like you know anything about--"

"Shush."

"Boys!" Leslie said more sharply than she intended. "It's been a long, long trip and I'd really like to meet this person. How about we do that first, then we can drink ourselves into a stumbling race for the privy."

Erril adjusted his riotous surcoat and performed an elaborate 'after you' bow. At his lowest point he looked up through his sandy bangs and winked. Leslie couldn't help but chuckle.

The two of them lead her through a string of tunnels and halls connected by paths in a concentric circle spiraling downward into the rock. Fresh air always seemed to flow in from the tiny pipes drilled into the walls, but the lower they went the fresher the air seemed to get to the point that by the time they finally hit the bottom of the spiral, Leslie could have sworn they were outside if not for the lack of breeze. They may as well have been, though: an expansive room awaited them, so large it had its own kind of miniature air current going.

Expansive and deep, the rectangular expanse was cut out under a massive blue-white crystal that filled the chamber with a pleasant ambient light that highlighted dozens upon dozens of burrows into the side of the 'pit'. Along the walls, in between the cloth sheets that served as doors were various pieces of art and pottery set on little shelves. Taking up the middle of the pit were three platforms large enough to fill most of the center of each tier, chained to the ceiling and lashed to their respective level by rope bridge and upon those platforms stood gardens lush with greenery and arranged to purposefully highlight whatever a given level seemed to value. For the top level it seemed to be a smattering of pink flowers with white daisies around them.

Erril caught Leslie staring at the odd structure as he guided her past and into an offshoot tunnel on the upper most level. "The pink flowers represent the dead. We had a cave in a few weeks back in one of the lower levels. . ."

Leslie nodded solemnly. "How deep does this place go?"

"Pretty deep! We've been digging long before I was born, pretty sure the same goes for anyone who lives here. Always digging. . ."

"But why?"

Cler piped in, "It's a long story full of mystical stuff like sphinxes and dragons. You wouldn't understand."

Leslie shuddered involuntarily. "You know what they say about assumptions, right? Pretty sure you don't know me well enough to assume that--"

"Sorry, sorry. Just we don't get many outsiders here, so--"

"Cler." Erril cut him off. "Sorry."

"Stop apologizing for me. I-"

"Hey, let's relax. . . .it's fine, no harm done. I'm a stranger in a strange place, so let's just keep an open mind about things and we'll play it by ear, all right?"

"See now that's how it's handled." Cler said as if he'd discovered some great mystery of the universe and was displaying it to Erril. "Class, grace and bo-"

"Boots." Leslie finished for him.

The two chuckled. "Very beautiful boots indeed." Erril gave her a sidelong glance.

They went down another level through an expansive library who's shelving seemed to have been made from plant vines strung over and around metal posts. With no wood for shelving they'd improvised pretty well- but gods where did all those books come from? Her hand slid to the book she had secreted away in her dress protectively, wondering if someone in the temple might steal it or something.

She'd cross that bridge when she got to it, she decided as the young men lead her through to the back of the library and through several more housing areas. Some of them had young children running around in various permutations on red and gold- laughing and giggling, chasing each other around and climbing the rope lines that were anchored across the stone ceiling. They were as pale as Erril and Cler, but no less lively or sickly as she'd have expected being without sunlight. Fittingly, the art and flowers were different in each burrow, following a sun and radiance theme but with each one having their own sense of style with the most festive being an absolute riot of colors all over the cave walls and flooring. It also had the smoothest cut walls-- a steady progression of skill the further they went down.

"Gods, how long have you people been at this?" Leslie asked.

"Quite a while." Erril replied. "The scholars think we've dug out about sixty percent of the mountain-- we just broke planar ground last night."

"Planar ground?"

Cler spoke up before Erril could. "Ground level, like the base of the mountain. It's been the gold standard as long as we've been alive, and we just hit it. Exciting times!"

"So now all we have to do is dig more." Erril twirled a finger in the air.

"It's worth it!"

"If you say so."

Leslie was about to ask when they turned the corner into what had to be the dig site itself. It was sprawling out off a central plateau like tendrils snaking right through the rock into naked earth. Hundreds of people were moving wheel barrows full of earth from the tributary holes to the central plateau where a group of young women were packing the earth with plant matter into brick forms under bright glow crystals. Others would then take the dried bricks to form and re-form the plateau, adding to the small temple-like building that was taking shape in the center of the working platform.

It was like watching ants scurry about building a tribute to some god; if those ants were two legged and wearing leather hats. In the center of the building's footprint was a young man- he couldn't have been older than fifteen- wearing a pure silver scarf over his dirty red and yellow coveralls. He looked up from laying a dirt brick when Erril approached. Then, as if she'd slapped the boy, his gaze turned sharply on Leslie.

She wasn't ready for that look.

His eyes were sunken with days of exhaustion ringing years and years of hard lived experience-- the youth he represented was a complete and utter lie, there was only pain and a fierce compulsion kindling in those tired blue eyes. Turbulent storms roiled as he set his brick down and started right for her.

"You," his voice rasped. Tired. Distant. The words ran from him in an entirely different way. His dirty hands swept her outline, up and down her arms, eyes desperately searching for something only they could find. Leslie could feel his connection to Isira seeping through his flesh, intense. A maelstrom of heat and power brushing her soul with every touch. She shuddered unconsciously and balled her hands into fists against that tidal wave of energy slamming into her. But still he explored her. Like she was some oddity.

"Revered Father," Erril said quietly as he lowered his head. "This woman came seeking the temple-"

"Bathe." He ordered Leslie. "Go. Bathe and rest. . . .we'll talk when I've finished my shift." With that he pushed her back lightly and went back to his brick laying.

"Hey, wait! I--"

"Bathe!" He snapped. "I'm busy and you need it. Bathe. Eat, take care of your body. There's time for talk later."

Erril glanced between the 'Revered Father' and Leslie, giving her an apologetic look.

"I came here to find Isira's temple. I have important information and I need help."

The boy was done listening, though. He grabbed a brick out of his wheel barrow and laid it out, moving on to the next and the next with rhythmic mechanical efficiency. She had been thoroughly dismissed.

Some part of her wanted to throw a fit after all she'd come through to get here, didn't she technically outrank a cleric? But then the thought of a bath and maybe even a cup of tea as comfort did sound pretty damned appealing. She looked to Erril with pouted lips. "He's a bit intense isn't he?"

"Understatement," Cler muttered.

Erril removed his gloves and ran a hand through his messy hair. "Well, I was just about done anyway, why don't we go get cleaned up. Then maybe tea?"

"Sounds good, unless that was your way of trying to get me into a position where you can convince me to swallow something you give me."

Cler burst out laughing while Erril blushed hotly.

Then, to her surprise, he flashed a smile. "I get the feeling that's not something anyone has to convince you of."

"Didn't we talk about assumptions?" She nudged him lightly.

"Maybe, but here we have a saying: you don't lie when the truth is better in your mouth."

Leslie snorted. "Talking from experience?"

"Are you?"

"Hmph." The older paladin shook her head, letting the silence linger while the two lead her to the bathing chambers- themselves a beautiful riot of kiln fired tiles wrapped around a deep cavern segmented into discrete bathing stalls full of surprisingly warm water- the divider in the middle was fashioned out of thick hanging ivy that swayed and percolated from a series of pipes fed in from the ceiling and haloing a bunch of benches arranged around a warm red-yellow glow crystal in the center. It radiated subtle magic but it also accounted for the warmth of the room.

"How the hell. . .?" Leslie whispered.

"Hm? Oh, the plants? They're part of a network here- every home has one that feed in from the upper levels. . . .shit. Cler, can you run the rats up to The Banger?"

The boy groaned loudly. "Why do I--"

"Please? I did it last time." When Erril gave him a look the boy glanced to Leslie then him. He rolled his eyes with a look of 'yeah right' before he reluctantly snatched Erril's bag of rats and left. Once alone, Erril and Leslie looked at each other oddly.

"So this is probably where you tell me how all this works, huh?" She motioned to the empty bath stall.

"Oh! Right. The water will change itself out, the blue oil is for your skin and the red for your hair- you can put the tan stuff in it afterwards if it's too slimy."

"Okay, sure. . . .so are you planning on joining me?" She folded her arms with the sternest look she could muster- not terribly threatening, all told. When he blushed and chuckled, she realized what she was saying and where she was saying it.

Then it clicked. This whole attitude and flirting? It was a temple of Isira, what should she have expected? Leslie tisked softly to herself. "My turn to apologize, it's been a long time since I've been around people."

Erril waved it off as he started to strip out of his rat catching outfit and respectfully worked his way over to the other side of the divider. "Why is that, though? You could take the world in your hand if you wanted, why're you going looking for a forgotten temple?"

Now if she was a prim and proper human being Leslie probably would have been looking away while the young man undressed- but she wasn't. She was human, like anyone else; she snuck a peek through the holes in the ivy to see if what she'd thought of Erril's outline had followed her expectations. . . .and by the gods had it. He was lean but he was also cut. A little wiry at worst, but muscular and well cared for even so deeply underground. Something about his pallor made her lightly tanned skin seem kind of perverse in comparison.

"Uhm. . ." Question. Temple. Yes, that was right. She cleared her throat and plucked her book from its pouch, setting it on the lip of the bath before she willed her dress into the shape of a silk choker. The moment her foot touched the water she knew she was in for a treat. She didn't hesitate to sink in over her head, simply floating about in the warm darkness for a few moments; existing. When she finally surfaced she had her answers and questions ready. "I came here with information for the temple and I wanted to find out something in return."

"Like what? Maybe I can help you."

Leslie started cleaning up, scrubbing the oils into her scalp and hair and relishing the warm, tingling sensations they sent through her entire body. "A paladin. . . .uh, I'm looking for a record of what happened to the last paladin of Isira."

Erril went quiet for several moments. It was just as well, Leslie decided. She finished cleaning herself up and laid back in the warm water- fully aware she was probably stewing in her own juices but too comfortable to care. Gods, it was the simplest of things that made life worth living.

"I don't think She has paladins."

"Why's that?"

"The Revered Father never speaks of them, nobody's mentioned them ever. . ."

Probably the first sign not all was well, but Leslie took it in stride. "Well if that's the case, my stay here is going to be pretty short."

"That-- can I ask you a question? Why didn't you bring supplies? And how'd you find this place?"

"I met a paladin of Elisandra who gave me a map and- in not so polite words- told me to go be with my own." Leslie stretched languidly, feeling her tired muscles strain out their own protest. She might never have to sleep or eat, but somehow her body always liked to remind her to be humble. Maybe that was another lesson Isira had wanted her to learn; humility.

She scoffed at the idea, of course, but it still made sense in some way.

"But you don't have anything with you. Did you leave your bag on the surface?"

Leslie pushed herself to the back of the bath tub to stretch her legs some more. "I should probably lie at this point, to cover my own ass--"

"Please don't."

"Lie or cover my ass?"

"Yes."

Leslie rolled her eyes. "Isira takes care of my needs, I think." She dipped under the water to rinse herself off and slowly, reluctantly, got out of the bath. Claiming a seat on the step outside her bath. She knew better than do it, but she still wanted to stretch her muscles and so she braced her elbows on the lip of the tub and pushed forward, stretching as far as her body would allow. "Nnnghhhhgods."

"Something wrong?"

"No- just. . . .gods it's been so long since I had a bath." She could see Eril moving about on the other side of the ivy. He stopped at the lip of his own tub looking right at her- directly at her eyes. They stared at one another for a moment and while Leslie's first instinct was to cover herself, she didn't. She wanted to see how this would play out- she wanted to see how far she could push things. Casually she crossed one toned leg over the other, holding his gaze. . . .then she arched her brow playfully.

Her heart jumped into her throat. She was never like this around people, but something. Something wanted to be a little brash and reckless. Erril didn't give in to her, though. He held her gaze with a tiny smile on the corner of his mouth.

It was his words that struck and somehow shamed her: "You must be pretty disappointed."

Just like that her confidence crumbled. She stood as her dress unfurled from the choker to make a tasteful slip with matching sandals. Suitably dressed she tied her hair back and picked up her book, clutching it protectively over her stomach. "I get the feeling there's a story to this place. . ."

"I keep telling myself that, too." He sighed as he got out and dried himself off, slipping into a low hanging robe. Leslie made an honest effort to avert her gaze this time. "The Revered Father says we're close to whatever he's looking for and that 'in just a few more years' we'll find it. But I get the feeling he's been saying that longer than I've been alive."

When he was finished he lead Leslie back up the way they'd come to the first housing block to one of the small homes carved out of the bottom tier. The lighting was bad, the central gathering area on this tier was little more than a bench and some cheap chess tables, but the moment he pulled his curtain aside Leslie's impression was turned on its head.

Erril's home was generously open for its size with mats made of plant material that were scorched a deep crimson, offsetting the bright blue to white gradient that climbed up the walls to a gentle sky of baby blue. A yellow glow crystal the size of a dinner plate hung on a thread in the middle of the room shimmering and shining a gentle suffusion of light throughout the entire place, while harsher white glow crystals dotted strategic places around the room to provide better spot lighting.