Savior
Summary: Kyla is marked. Chosen to be a Savior, she embarks on a quest through a world of perfidy, corruption, shifting religious and militaristic powers, ancient secrets and unspoken emotions. In her quest to become a Messiah, will she cause the destruction of everything she so wished to save?
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Prologue: Welcome To Seyda Rojo
Lance had been traveling hard for the past few days, so he couldn’t help sighing with the deepest relief when he finally sauntered into the dusty border town of Seyda Rojo. Normally, Lance wouldn’t have bothered pausing in a squat like this, but he was hard pressed to find a place where he could rest and gather his bearings. His journey had been hard, much harder than he had been lead to believe, and he was running low on supplies.
Even with only about a day’s food left, Lance still wouldn’t have stopped in Seyda Rojo if he had known there would be another town close by. As it was, Seyda Rojo was the only town for miles around and the alternative, going unprepared into the surrounding wilderness, where he could either starve to death or be torn apart by the various hostile inhabitants, was not very appealing.
It was with these thoughts that Lance passed under the sign Welcome To Scenic Seyda Rojo and into the town, which was not really much to be impressed with. It was comprised of a single unpaved main street, flanked on both sides by seedy looking shops. There were no houses and the trees had been burned back to form clearings where small gardens were tended. The largest building was a combination flophouse and tavern at the far end of the street. It looked most promising there. Lance’s keen ears could detect the unmistakable sound of a thriving business, but everything else had a tired, used, dead look that Lance found rather depressing.
“
Nothing but a pit stop.” He thought, shaking his head. “
Anyone bold enough to call this place a town must be blind, stupid or both.”
He was here now, and being too practical to leave a place where he could obtain supplies, information and a clean bed just because he didn’t like the view, Lance pressed on until he reached the flophouse, glancing briefly up at the sign that proclaimed this place to be Lucy’s Traveler’s Inn. Lance pushed open the batwing doors, finding the scene familiar and oddly comforting. He’d been in places like this many times before and the unexpectedly comfy feel of Lucy’s Traveler’s Inn helped him to get over his impression of Seyda Rojo. He was met with a few stares, some amazed, others hostile, but he ignored them all and walked up to the bar where a mildly attractive female bartender was wiping a plate.
“Evening, sugarplum.” Lance said easily, sliding unto one of the barstools and drumming his knuckles lightly on the counter.
The bartender looked up, startled, but when she saw who was addressing her she put aside the plate.
“Evening yourself, gent.” She replied pertly, with good humor in her face. She was short and slightly chubby, but her complexion was rosy and her eyes sparkled with a vivacity that made her look younger than she was. Lance grinned, reaching into his pocket to withdraw a single dull silver coin.
“Trouble you for some water, miss?”
The bartender frowned at the coin he’d placed on the counter, and quickly got him a glass of water. “The clear stuff’s free, gent. Maybe they charge for water in the fancy cities, but out here we like to show a bit more hospitality than that.”
“Thanks.” Lance said, picking up the glass. The first sip was like heaven, and he managed to finish it in one long gulp. As soon as he put his glass down the bartender poured him another, earning herself a grateful smile.
“Hard traveling?” She asked conversationally, picking up another plate out of the ones she had stacked by her so she could wipe it clean.
“How’d you know?” Lance asked, already well on his way to finishing his second glass. He’d run out of water a few days ago, and the dehydration he’d suffered through had been much worse than the lack of food. He could go without eating, but without water he wouldn’t have lasted much longer.
“When you live a place like this, you can just tell.” The bartender replied, smiling a bit. “Feeling better?”
“Thanks to you.” Lance looked behind him, feeling the other patron’s stares like pinpricks in his back. He turned grimly back toward the bartender, who, noting his look, smiled apologetically.
“Sorry for the gawks, gent.” She said, lowering her tone to little more than a whisper. “Even though this place is a well known rest stop for travelers, we just don’t get many like you out here.” The bartender paused for a moment, looking him over. “Shame really,” she added, with a flirtatious wink.
Lance couldn’t help chuckling and the bartender chuckled too, admiring this exotic looking rogue who had walked in just as she was hardening herself for another long, boring night. Seyda Rojo, the epitome of the phrase “middle of nowhere”, didn’t see much. There were many places like this, little stops for travelers on the road to bigger and better things. She’d met quite a few interesting people in her line of work, but she couldn’t recall ever having met a Furryie. She’d always thought that they were little more than wild beasts mimicking humans but the one who sat before her was obviously civilized. Apparently there were exceptions to every rule.
The anthropomorphic feline before her was tall, exceptionally well built and handsome. His shiny pelt was purplish black, and he had long black hair that he’d swept back into a neat ponytail, although he couldn’t stop a few strands from snaking into his face.
“
No, not hair.” The bartender thought absently. “
That’s what humans have. With Furryies it’s called a mane.”
The feline was wearing worn boots and blue jeans, a plain cotton shirt, a leather jacket and a low brimmed hat that had been altered to allow his ears to peek up at the top. On his hands were fingerless black gloves, and thrown across his shoulder was a backpack of sorts. He was probably armed – You had to be crazy to travel in this part of the world without a weapon – but if he was carrying anything she couldn’t see it.
Night was coming on fast now, so the bartender turned to switch on the lights, marveling at the feline’s eyes. The dimness inside the tavern had prevented her from seeing their color, but with the lights on she noted that they were a lovely shade blue, clear as the sky on a cloudless day. His pupils must have been dilated, because they narrowed into slits so small they almost disappeared before widening again as their owner adjusted to the sudden brightness.
The bartender picked up Lance’s glass once again, but instead of pouring him more water she served him from a glass bottle, carefully pouring out a sweet smelling golden liquid. Lance tried to refuse this, but the bartender gave him admonishing look, setting the glass before him with a no nonsense manner that couldn’t be argued with.
“Don’t worry about it gent. It’s on the house.”
“You’re too kind sugarplum.” Lance said sincerely, sipping from this drink. The overwhelming sweetness nearly made tears come to his eyes. He wouldn’t drink too much of this, or someone would have to carry him out of here. “This is good.”
“It’s the local beer.” The bartender replied, nodding. “It’ll put whiskers on your face.”
“I don’t think I have to worry about that.” Lance took another respectful sip before he smacked his lips and pushed the glass away for good.
The place had gotten busier. Lance found himself alone for a few minutes while the bartender welcomed the new guests, barked orders at the two serving girls who had come stumbling in from upstairs and served up a few drinks. In just a few moments the atmosphere was alive and kicking, and Lance was glad to see that the arriving patrons were more interested in getting a hot dinner and a place to sleep than looking him over. Good. He wanted to keep as low a profile as he could while he was here.
The smell of frying meats and bread began to make his mouth water, and Lance’s stomach rumbled disconsolately. It hadn’t really been his intention to spend more than a few hours in this dump before moving on, but really, what was a hot dinner and good night’s rest indoors after weeks of roughing it?
“You promised her it would be no more than a week.” His conscience berated. “No more than a week. She must be going crazy worrying.”
His stomach rumbled once more with an almost painful intensity, and as much as Lance hated it, he couldn’t stop himself from summoning the bartender for a bit of food. For the moment, his physical needs were greater than his need to keep moving, but the wash of guilt that came over him when his food was served up made everything a little harder to swallow.
“I expect to see you again Lance, so don’t do anything stupid to get yourself killed, you hear me? I love you too much to let you go now.”
“I’m coming back, I promise.” Lance whispered.
The feline slowly began to eat, feeling his loneliness and the twists of fate that had brought him so far from home like a weight on his furry shoulders. Outside, the stars began to twinkle one by one, like sputtering lights being turned on to illuminate a canvas of infinite depth and blackness.