Lesbians Fight the Demon Queen Ch 9

The high glittering towers of Cyres came into view long before their carriage had cleared the forest. Lyra had glimpsed them once before, as a child, when she still thought herself a boy. At the time, the towers, shining in all manners of pearlescent whites and glimmering gold, had left her in awe. These days, they reminded her of the sort of people who had tried to take everything she had away from her. Each tower was a statement, a flexing of influence and wealth in the hopes of garnering crumbs of superiority. Cyres was, to say the least, an opulent city, perched on a small outcrop of peninsula that made it the ideal maritime port.

Much of Ossos had grown up around the trade routes created by Cyres. And, since the Demon Queen Selian had earned her title by conquering the lands between Ossos and Bhuriel, Cyres was the only port in the kingdom capable of facilitating trade between the two nations. This was in no small part due to its ability to act as Ossos’ naval headquarters. Day in, day out, naval escorts and patrol vessels would depart to keep the seas secure in cooperation with Bhuriel’s own—admittedly far more powerful—navy on the other end.

Regardless, such details bored Lyra; she never really cared for the garish political showmanship of egomaniacal lords and their ilk, nor did she find herself particularly drawn to the ins and outs of military logistics or maritime trade. What Lyra did care for, however, was that Cyres was likely going to be the last place in some time she’d ever be able to eat something that wasn’t cooked by Renault or Trevor. Both were tragically utilitarian in their choices of travel meals. Lyra was sick to death of dried meat, stale bread, oats and boiled potatoes. Unsurprisingly, being a seat of commerce, Cyres had a reputation for its cuisine. As such, while Renault and Priscilla went about whatever their official business was, Lyra’s thoughts were occupied by stewed meats flavored with foreign spices, fresh-caught fish which had been battered and deep fried, fluffy bread still warm from the oven, and fresh fruit ripe with juices. She intended to enjoy her day in Cyres as though it were her last, which was just as well, since her last may have been approaching sooner than she had hoped depending on how things went.

As the city’s outer gates approached, and its towers loomed larger, Lyra gave a cursory glance to her companions. Across from her, Ren and Priscilla were speaking in a hushed tone. Renault was stoic, his shoulders square, his lips pressed tight in thought as Priscilla whispered to him. Even as she spoke, the witchblade seemed to maintain her casually annoyed scowl. Across the carriage’s bench, leaning into her opposite wall as far away from the others she could manage, Maya was gazing out the window with a well-practiced look of disinterest. That did little to hide the way her eyes took in the sight before her, tracing some tower or other to its staggering height, then sweeping to the next. With a mocking grin, Lyra slid across the bench close to Maya. “Never been to Cyres, eh? It’s certainly a sight to behold, for first-timers anyway; then you get to actually talking to the people here and realize what a loathsome place this is. But don’t worry, I won’t tell the others how easily impressed you are.”

“Actually, I was wondering how a city this far west could be so, well, not overrun.” She had a point; Cyres was about as close to the border as one could get before things like sacked townships and burned farmland became entirely too common.

“Aside from the walls? Thanks to our alliance with Bhuriel, we have a huge naval edge over Selian, meaning anyone trying to attack the city by land would need to deal with both the army and one hell of a naval bombardment. It also makes a siege just about impossible. Selian’s generals have tried before, but no success yet.” What Lyra chose to leave out was that word among the nobles and military types was that Cyres’ days were numbered. It may not have been something people spoke of out in the open, but anyone important enough to be privy to such conversation knew the truth: Queen Selian and her demonic hordes were winning.

“Fascinating.” Maya spoke with the same level of enthusiasm one might expect from a foot soldier asked to dig the latrines. Not that Lyra actually knew many foot soldiers; perhaps Trevor had dug his share of latrines. She’d hardly gotten the chance to speak with him, given that he’d been driving the carriage for most of the trip. Something told her he wasn’t going to be interested in swapping war stories with the disgraced adopted daughter of a wealthy merchant turned secret military pet project.

Their approach continued in relative quiet, Cyres looming ever larger with each passing moment. When the gates were open, and the group through, Trevor parked the carriage, and wordlessly, Renault and Priscilla disembarked. Eager to stretch her legs, Lyra followed suit, stepping onto the crowded, bustling cobblestone street and taking in the staggering sights and rather unpleasant smells of an overly populous city with open sewers. Just as she was about to strike out into the city in search of something more appealing to the senses, the jostling of footsteps behind her roused Lyra from her concentration, and she realized the flaw in her plan. Arching her back and groaning in an exaggerated, languid stretch, Maya stepped up next to Lyra, glanced over to her, and flashed her a malevolent grin.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Lyra sighed and stared intently downward for a moment, then jerked her head back up and glared at Maya. “If I don’t keep my eye on you, you’re going to cause trouble, aren’t you?”

With a self-satisfied chuckle, Maya held up a bulging leather coin purse, and jingled it in her face. “I’d say I already have. Like it? I swiped it off of church boy,” she sang. “Got a busy day planned, need some supplies of my own, after all. I’d ask if you’d like to join me for a trip to the market, but frankly spending even one more moment with you sounds far too unpleasant. But don’t worry, we’ll see each other again real soon, Lyra.” Before Lyra could react, Maya held up her palm, and blew into it, a white cloud of powder blew into Lyra’s face, stinging her eyes and burning her throat, leaving her coughing and disoriented, struggling to breathe. Fuming all the way, she staggered backward into the carriage and fished out a flask of water, washing out her eyes and mouth. When the powder was cleared and the feeling started to subside, Lyra was completely unsurprised to see Maya gone. She groaned, and set off on her search.

For the better part of what remained of her morning, and into the early afternoon, Lyra searched market after market hoping to find her quarry. Few had seen her, and those who had couldn’t say where she’d gone off to next. Each passing moment Lyra grew more and more furious with the thief. She didn’t appreciate having her time wasted, nor did she like the thought of what, exactly, Maya might be up to. Dream or no dream, that trust part was proving hard to come by, and Maya had done herself few favors in that respect. Just as she was getting about ready to see if she might rustle up the city guard to conduct her search for her, Lyra heard the telltale anguished cry of a hapless victim realizing he’d been pickpocketed. Following the sound, Lyra scanned the crowded marketplace, shutting out the constant buzz of noise, the sights, the smells, and searched for any sign of Maya. And, in a stroke of luck, she caught sight of the thief, lingering in the shadows of an overhang. Their eyes met, and Maya darted away, throwing herself into the crowd.

Cursing under her breath, Lyra gave chase, shouldering her way past irritated market goers and giving those too big or too stubborn a perhaps not quite gentle enough magical push out of her way as she fixed her sights on Maya. The thief was moving too quickly and erratically for Lyra to just reach out and grab her with magic, but Lyra was hot on her heels, easily keeping pace considering Maya had to cut her path through the market with much more physicality. Just as Lyra was getting within striking distance, however, Maya knocked a barrel into her way. Lyra stumbled and tripped her way over the obstacle, nearly landing face first, but she recovered just barely in time to see Maya disappear into a nearby alleyway. Her danger sense perked up and, cautiously, Lyra followed.

The street was narrow enough that she could likely lie lengthwise across and touch the buildings on either side. It was packed with crates and barrels of goods. Scaffolding wound up the side of one building, and the other was dotted with the occasional balcony. Maya was nowhere to be seen, but Lyra was confident the thief couldn’t have made it through to the other side before she herself had entered. Maya was hiding somewhere, but where? And to what end? Before Lyra had the proper chance to consider that, she felt an elbow make contact with the back of her head, and collapsed forward onto her knees as pain overrode any other sense. She struggled to right herself against the wall, and clutched at the back of her head. Her vision swam as she peered out into the shadowy alleyway, her free hand grasping around on the floor for some sort of makeshift weapon. Someone snatched her by the wrist, and pulled her searching hand toward them. Lyra felt cool metal slide over one of her fingers. And, slowly, as her vision cleared, she caught sight of Maya leaning against the wall, a smug look of triumph written across her face.

“Sorry ‘bout the head, it was the only way I could get you to sit still for long enough without blasting me with some magical bullshit,” she mused, casually glancing down to check her nails.

“Oh, you mean like this?” Lyra attempted to reach her hand out and show Maya exactly just what kind of magical bullshit she could conjure up. But, to her dawning horror, Lyra couldn’t move from the neck down. “What the fuck did you do to me?” she hissed, eyes focusing in and narrowing at Maya.

“Do I need to spell it out for you?” She snorted disdainfully. “It’s the ring I slipped onto your finger. I managed to track down an underground group of people who share my sentiment about obnoxious mages, and happen to channel that sentiment into the illegal manufacture of things meant to otherwise incapacitate pesky abilities like yours. Honestly, I work fast, but finding them and convincing them to do business with me in just a few hours is impressive even for one as lovely and talented as myself.” She punctuated her speech with a toss of her hair, but despite her showmanship, Maya did a poor job of hiding an undercurrent of anxiety. But what, exactly, had her worked up was an issue for another time. What mattered currently was her rather obvious predicament. The question remained: what to do about it? Fighting seemed about impossible, leaving her with really only one option.

“What do you want?” Lyra hissed.

“Money, wealth, sex; but from you? You know what I want. I want my necklace. Give it.” The low growl which rumbled deep in her throat as Maya finished speaking was, Lyra had to admit, rather intimidating. And she’d known her share of intimidating people. But again, that intimidating aura didn’t lack the telltale creeping worry. And, for the first time, Lyra was faced with the reality that whatever she’d taken from Maya was more than just some valuable trinket that bestowed some minor boon. It mattered to Maya, but she could hardly just give it back. Maya had done little to show her that without the proper motivation she wouldn’t sell them all out in a heartbeat or run off with their valuables. Lyra couldn’t just give it up. Even if she could, she hardly wanted to. Maya had crossed the line, attacking her unprovoked twice. Besides, it wasn’t as though Lyra hadn’t had good reason to take the necklace; it was, after all, Maya who had started everything. And she would give it back as soon as Maya stopped acting out, but she couldn’t do that, could she? No, Maya deserved nothing but scorn, and Lyra was an expert at scorn.

To the best of her ability, she threw her head back and loosed a long, high and mocking laugh, then leveled her eyes on Maya, staring at her disdainfully. “If I give you the necklace, you won’t have any reason left not to just kill me and be on your way. Not happening. Like I said, I’ve made sure the enchantment on it will continue to run, so long as you don’t get too far from us, that is. You’ll get your necklace back when I trust you won’t use its chain to choke me to death the second I turn around.”

A moment of pause, of quiet, perhaps even shock fell over Maya. She glanced at Lyra, then to the dagger at her belt, then back, opening and closing her mouth a few times before speaking. “Do you really think I would do that, Lyra? Kill you in cold blood? I’m not a murderer. I just want what’s mine. Just… just give it back and we can put this behind us.” Was that guilt Lyra heard? Despite Maya’s position, she appeared just as cornered, just as vulnerable as Lyra felt. Seeing her like that, with all her performative apathy, superiority and aloofness stripped away, Lyra couldn’t help but wonder if she’d been fair to Maya. Yes, the thief had provoked her, but Lyra had hardly given Maya the chance to redeem herself. Instead, Lyra had antagonized and goaded Maya every step of the way, pushed for more conflict, spat venom at every opportunity. Through the entire journey so far, Lyra had been looking for a reason to trust Maya, but she’d hardly had the chance to be trustworthy. And honestly, in Maya’s situation, would she have acted any differently? Probably not. But still, Lyra wasn’t about to give up her only bargaining chip and leave herself completely vulnerable. She would need to find some sort of compromise, some sort of deal.

Unfortunately, any potential solution to her predicament died a moment later as, on both ends of the alleyway, two figures stepped forward to block both entrances. Four tall, hulking men in leather garb, two on either side of them, marched toward Lyra and Maya. Both women looked from one end to the other, and before Lyra could say anything, recognition dawned on Maya’s face. She stood up straight, taking a half step forward as her mouth hung open in recognition, head swiveling from one side to the other as the men drew ever closer. “Hey,” Maya yelled, her voice wavering. “I gave you your money. We agreed she was mine to deal with as I saw fit. The hell are you doing here?”

“Maya, who the fuck are—”

“You’re right, girl. We did have a deal,” The group to Lyra’s left had stopped short a good ten away, and the larger of the two stepped forward to address Maya directly. “But that was before our informants in the city told us just who this mage was. How important she is. Do you even know what you’re dealing with here? It’s a miracle you’re not a pile of ash right now.”

“Or maybe I’m just not to be fucked with.” Maya bristled, taking a step forward. “My quarry. My money. Step off.”

The same man spoke again, shaking his head. “We have no quarrel with you, girl. If you don’t want a part in this, then you can just leave. Once the mage is dealt with, we’ll even return your money plus a reward for incapacitating her. It was well done. You’ve earned it.” Despite the offer of a reward, Lyra had a hard time reading the man’s words as anything but a threat. Maya seemed to notice as well and she shot Lyra a twitchy sidelong glance. “Why are you looking at her? You don’t want to pick a fight with us, girl. You’ll lose. Either help or walk away.” He took a step forward, and the reality of the situation finally hit Lyra. They were going to kill her, and she was powerless to stop them.

“Maya. Don’t let them do this,” Lyra pleaded, voice quivering. For the first time in her life, the threat of death felt real. Was real. And she wasn’t taking well to it, not at all. Lyra was sweating, panting, her heart racing, her eyes stinging. She didn’t want to die. Not like this, not like any way at all. She just wanted to live a normal life as herself, not as a shunned freak, not as a secret weapon, just as herself. Was that too much to ask? Was she really so doomed to—her panic spiral was interrupted when with blinding swiftness and precision, Maya darted forward and snatched the ring off Lyra’s finger. From both sides, the men began to close in, drawing long, flamberge blades.

Maya pressed herself flat against the wall, drawing her dagger and pointing it to the two closer men, her gaze darting to either side of the alleyway. “Um, Lyra,” she called. “Now might be a great time to help out.” No sooner had Maya spoken than Lyra felt the rush of feeling and movement pump through her body. With a slow, deep breath, she sprung to her feet, and unleashed a wall of force on either side of herself and Maya, knocking all four men prone. Maya didn’t need more than that. Not wasting a moment, she sprang forward, throwing herself dagger first on the one who she’d been speaking with. Lyra turned her back to the screams, and set to work on the two who remained.

- - -

At the edge of the alleyway, leaning against the wall and panting heavily, Lyra and Maya stood. Maya had just finished cleansing her blade, as well as fixing one of the flamberges to her belt. Meanwhile Lyra was simply wheezing and clutching at her side. Despite all the training, she hadn’t realized just how exhausting real combat was. When Maya looked up and met her gaze, an awkward silence fell over the two. Lyra spent a moment trying to find the right thing to say, but found little, so she settled. “Um, thanks,” she breathed.

Breaking her gaze, Maya softly shook her head. “Like I said, I’m not a murderer.”

“You didn’t have to stick around, though. You didn’t have to put yourself in danger for me. You didn’t have to trust me. I haven’t exactly earned that trust from you. And hell, considering the way things have gone so far, I’m not sure I could even blame you for leaving me to whatever fate they had in mind for me. So, thank you.” Mostly, Lyra just hoped her companion didn’t notice that Lyra had nearly choked on her own sincerity. Speaking like that didn’t come easy to her.

At the very least, Maya didn’t seem the best at dealing with it either. Her gaze remained fixed on the cobblestone street before her as she chewed her lip thoughtfully, then finally responded. “Yeah, well. Church boy and that bitchy girlfriend of his are probably done, right? I guess we should head back.” It was difficult to tell considering Maya’s gaze remained fixed decidedly elsewhere, but Lyra could have sworn she glimpsed a blush blooming across the thief’s cheeks. “And don’t think I’ve let you off the hook about my necklace,” she grumbled, eyes still averted.

Between heavy pants, Lyra conceded a nod. “We’ll talk about the necklace. As for heading back, yeah. We probably should do that fairly soon, but either way we’re going to be staying the night here,” Lyra paused, feeling oddly nervous, which was absolutely unlike her. “And I’ve been wanting to indulge in something tasty before we’re stuck living off military rations ‘til who knows when. So if you’ll excuse me.” Glancing toward Maya, Lyra noticed the thief seemed to be shaking lightly, her face turned away. “Something wrong?”

Maya spun on her heel, and Lyra quickly realized she’d been laughing. With a smooth motion, Maya lowered her hand to her belt and brandished a familiar coin purse. “You’ll be needing this,” she said, tossing it over.

Lyra reached out her hand and snatched her money out of the air, examined her coinpurse, determined it was unharmed, then chuckled to herself. “See you later, Maya.”