Enchanted Ch. 04

John has a new title he hopes to never hear again: John the Long. Chapter 4 brings a new day in his new life with challenges and... conquests.

John woke to the fresh scent of ocean wind and wildflowers. He blinked his eyes open as yesterday's events came back to him. He knew who, and where, he was. His belly was empty, but the magic was there, thrumming with possibilities and ready for him to use.

He threw back the sheet and rolled onto his knees and then up to his feet. Even the scratchy pallet on the floor barely bothered him today. He stood over the pot and emptied his bladder while stretching out the kinks in his muscles.

He smiled. Muscles. He had muscles again. He felt amazing, in fact. Well rested, full of energy, and ready to take on the world. Not an ache or pain in him! His stomach rumbled a little, but aside from that, he was feeling blessed.

A glance at the flesh dangling between his legs failed to darken his mood, but it did make him consider the possibility that he was cursed instead of blessed. But if this was being cursed, then he should have taken up demonology decades ago!

He opened the shutters and looked out onto the coastal city of Widow's Edge. He knew a little better now about the town and identified the great lifts that hung over the edge of the cliff to ferry cargo from the docks to the city. There was little else of interest in the town save for the great hall that housed the stairs and tunnels that led into the earth and down to the docks.

He pulled the shutters in and latched them before stooping to pick up his dagger beside his pallet. He tied that to the back of his upper arm before grabbing up his robe. He donned the fine black garment and stepped into his sandals, ready to see what the day might bring him as soon as he fetched his spear from where it rested against the wall.

When his fingers closed about the polished black shaft of the spear John smiled. It felt good to be armed and ready, even if he didn't know how to use it. How difficult could it be? His spear had two crisscrossing blades on the end that had been crafted by magic, not forge. All he had to do was jab it into somebody.

If Zynga, the vulgar and whimsical imp that was his familiar, was right, the spear could suck the life out of someone too and refuel his magic. That wouldn't be as fun as his preferred method of regenerating magic, of course.

John slipped out of his room and made his way down the hall to the stairs. He heard one of the serving maids tending to another room and he almost paused to look in and see if was Magda. He stopped himself, worried about what Zynga had told him. If Magda saw him she'd certainly hope for another tumble. John liked the thought of it, but the consequences of bedding the same woman too often were terrible. She would weaken and suffer.

That was his curse now, thanks to his Mistress, Beytrixxa. He could have any woman he wanted, but not with any sort of cadence or they would grow ill and die as his magic fed on their soul. Well, not any woman... That ship's captain— Red, Steff called her— had resisted his magic last night. Steff had not, thankfully. He hoped she'd rested well and could walk properly this morning.

"Morning, John," the barkeep greeted him with a grin. "Cassie wouldn't stop yapping about you last night. What lies are you telling my girl?"

"Cassie's your daughter?" John asked.

"She is, a fine young girl that deserves better than this place."

John shrugged. "This place isn't so bad. I've grown fond of it."

He chuckled. "Don't grow too fond, you're stay's up at the end of the week without more coin to hold you over."

John smiled and patted his coin pouch in his pocket. He still hadn't spent any money, but he didn't have much to spend either. "I will remember. Some water this morning with breakfast, I think."

"I recommend the ale," he warned. "The water here does a poor job taking your thirst away. They get it in the caves, gathered from the run off of the rocks but it still tastes salty to me."

John frowned. "You have no wells?"

"Have you looked at this town? We're a hundred feet or more above the sea! Sure enough there's dirt under us, but more rock than dirt. Solid rock, at that. There's no digging for water there and if there was they'd find the ocean before anything else."

John grimaced. "I hadn't thought of that. So it's barrels of water collected below or shipped in from elsewhere?"

"Aye, so it is," the barkeep said. "And there's not many people willing to haul water on a wagon. Nobody's going to pay enough to make it worth their while."

John grunted. "That's not something I'd have ever considered before. Interesting... very interesting."

The barkeep chuckled and shrugged. "Here, I'll let you choose," he said and fetched a cup and filled it with water from a barrel. He placed it in front of John and watched while the newly-created warlock picked it up and sniffed it. He wrinkled his nose and then risked a sip.

John set it down, trying not to show his distaste. "It is salty," he said. "More than salt too, but I'm not sure of the taste."

"It drips off the rocks, there's no telling what it picks up," the barkeep said. "You still want that, or an ale?"

"Ale it is!" John cheered.

The barkeep laughed and swept the cup away. He dumped it and filled it with ale and handed it over before heading to the kitchen to secure breakfast for the man.

John took pleasure in the simple fare as he broke his fast. It wasn't like before, when he'd had fancier meals made of...

John cocked his head as he searched his memory. What had he eaten before? It had been prepared by servants, surely. Servants or... did John have a wife? No, of course not! He'd remember that, surely. Even though he couldn't seem to remember anything else.

Ah ha! That was the difference. He wasn't sure about the other things. Servants, foods, even clothes. But he was certain he'd never married. Or if he had, he'd have made a terrible husband. Another curse of his memory was that he couldn't remember the lovers he'd taken, but he was certain he'd had many throughout his life. He'd been an important man, after all!

"Going to lick the plate clean too?"

John jerked his head up and saw the barkeep staring at him with a gleam in his eye. John chuckled and saw that he was still holding the plate as though he wanted to eat it too. He grinned and pushed it away. "Lost in my thoughts."

"I could tell. Take care with that, a man's thoughts can be a scary place. Not as bad as a woman's though!"

John laughed with him and stood up. He considered tossing the man a coin but couldn't make himself do it. His funds were meager and he still had a lot to figure out. Including what he should do today. His needs were met, but there were still so many questions unanswered. Both about who he'd been as well as who he was now. He'd been an old man, now he was young again. Or so everyone told him. His body looked young and he felt virile— he'd proven that a few times now! Yet he had yet to see himself. Was he the same as he'd been when he was a young man, or had Beytrixxa improved upon his looks as she had with his manhood?

John turned and headed for the door. He needed to find a looking glass. Widow's Edge had both open markets and a few shops. Surely he could find one somewhere. Although it might help if he knew where to start looking... perhaps Zynga could point him in the right direction?

"Where is she, anyhow?" John muttered as he stood in the morning sun and felt a fresh gust of ocean air ruffle his hair.

He grinned and reached up to run his fingers through his hair. Yes, he had hair. Lots of it. Thick and well kept, from the feel of it. He rubbed his face with his hand and then stared at his hand. His face was smooth, but he hadn't shaved in at least two days now.

"Magic."

John jumped and spun around. They she stood, breasts bulging out of the top of a shirt that had not been tailored to hold such things. She winked at him and said, "Your magic does that. You'll always be clean and well kept. One of Mistress's quirks she insists upon."

John bowed his head. "Cleanliness is next to Saintliness."

Zynga rolled her eyes.

"Have you been waiting out here for me?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I've been here and there. Remember, I've got the inside scoop on what's going on in your head, Master. At least until you figure out how to shut me out."

John cursed. "I forgot about that."

She pouted. "Aww, am I so scary you're afraid to let me in?"

He snorted. "Hardly. Although you are a demon."

She held her thumb and finger close together and said, "I'm just a itty bitty demon though."

He snorted again.

Zynga laughed. "What fun shall we have today, Master? That girl last night was delicious. Although I'm almost disappointed she didn't get to have her way with you. That would have been a sight to see!"

"A gentleman does not—"

Zynga howled with laughter and drew the looks from a few people passing by. She clapped her hands over her mouth and restrained herself to giggles and chuckles before wiping the tears from her eyes— tears that turned to steam that was sucked away by the wind— and said, "Master, you are hardly a gentleman. Maybe before, I don't know, but not now."

He sighed. "Still, I don't think talking about my conquests is appropriate."

She scoffed. "You ruined her and even kept your wits about you and didn't finish inside. I never doubt Mistress, but now I'm starting to understand what she must have seen in you."

"I haven't even seen myself yet," he admitted. "Where can I find a mirror?"

"This way," she said and motioned for him to follow her.

While they walked down the road John's mind drifted back to the evening before with Steff, the sailor with a wooden leg. "She wouldn't have actually... with her leg?"

Zynga cackled and nodded. "Oh, she would. She's got a reputation with her crew. None of them will go near her because they're afraid she'll fuck them with it."

"But... that's not right! What pleasure would it bring her?"

"There's one way to find out..."

"No!" he gasped. "Even if... what about splinters?"

Zynga weaved back and forth and made a scene as she clutched her belly from laughing too hard to walk a straight line. She was still laughing when they reached the general store, Hayward's Outfitters. Zynga motioned for him to go while she sucked in air and struggled to compose herself.

John ignored the imp-turned halfling and strode into the store. He studied the shelves and aisles, each running lengthwise so that the man behind the counter could see him at all times. He found everything from cloaks and clothing to nails and hammers. A few backpacks and pouches rested on another shelf and near the front he sat a collection of simple knives and some other weapons. Nothing as fine as his dagger or spear.

"Master!" Zynga called from another aisle.

John joined her and saw her holding up a lady's mirror. It was small enough to hold in her hand. He picked it up and pretended to look it over while studying his reflection.

John had hair, that much he knew, but he didn't realize how dark it was. More than dark, it was as black as his robe or his spear. His hair had a touch of wave to it, but was medium length to keep from being unruly. Quite the opposite, he looked rather dashing.

His eyes were blue. A blue so dark they were nearly indigo. Seeing them made him suck in a gasp of air. Beytrixxa's eyes had been the same color! She must have done that to him. Had she changed his hair too? He couldn't remember, of course, but the concept of having hair had excited him. Had he been bald before?

"Take care with that," the owner of the shop called from behind the counter. "Five gold for that, whether to you buy it or break it."

John glanced at the man and smiled. "Thank you, I'm trying to help my find something to help her dress more appropriately."

Zynga's eyes widened and her mouth dropped. John winked at her and cast a final look at himself. His jaw line was strong and, yes, there was a faint cleft in his chin. His nose was straight and centered and his brow was defined, but not brooding. Even his dark thick eyebrows seemed well kept.

The man laughed and said, "I can see why."

"Perhaps not," John added after putting the looking glass down. "I suppose I've gotten used to her and it just wouldn't be the same any other way."

The shop owner frowned. John turned and walked away, heading out. He glance back when he heard a gasp, but only caught Zynga adjusting her shirt as she turned and caught up to him.

Once they were outside John asked, "What was that?"

She grinned.

"What did you do?" he demanded.

She pouted before admitting, "If he was so righteous why couldn't he keep his eyes off me?" she asked.

"Zynga..."

She grinned and reached up to cup her massive boobs. She gave them a heft and said, "I whipped my tits out and shook them at him."

John had to collect his jaw before he could shake his head. "This isn't a large town. Reputation builds quick in a place like this."

She snorted. "There's far worse here than me shaking by tits at people."

"Too loud," he admonished her while looking around. The streets weren't packed by any means, but there were people about. Even some women with children at their sides.

Zynga followed his eyes and saw a mother with two boys. The troublesome imp grinned and waved at them.

"Incorrigible," John muttered.

"Guilty," she agreed. "But, now that you've seen yourself, what do you think?"

"Not bad," he admitted.

She snorted. "Even handsome isn't the right word. Mistress made you one very fuckable man. Even I've thought about it... but don't get your hopes up."

John winced at her language and decided it was time to change the subject. "So what's worse here than you... being you?"

"Ooh, let me show you!"

"Show me?" he gulped. He followed her as she rushed down the road and turned onto a side lane. In no time she'd circled back and led him toward the cliffs.

She gestured as they approached two story building made of stone. The entrance was guarded by two men wearing hard-boiled leather cuirasses. Great swords rested on their backs and heavy spiked maces hung from their sides.

"What is this?" John asked.

"Can't you hear?"

John frowned and listened. Over the hubbub of the city and the blowing wind he made out the creaking of ropes and timbers. He glanced around and figured out where they were. "This is the lifts."

She nodded. "Want to know who powers the lifts?"

"Horses, I'm sure. Lashed to a wheel, most likely?"

She grinned.

"No?"

She shook her head and beckoned him forward. He followed, his curiosity getting the better of him. Five steps from the guards they raised one arm each. Their other arm dropped to the maces at their sides.

"This area's off limits," the guard on the left said.

John stopped and held up his hands. "Sorry, I'm new here."

"That's all right, just move along. You need cargo lifted or lowered, go around to the lift office," the other guard said.

John nodded and backed away. Zynga kept going and the guards paid her no mind. She glanced back at him and then raised two fingers to point at her eyes. Her hand turned and both fingers pointed at him. He watched her turn back and then shook his head when he realized the first guard's eyes narrow. John turned and started heading around the building toward the lift office. Zynga slipped behind them and disappeared.

"How am I supposed to see anything if she leaves me?" John fumed while rounding the corner and seeing the door that led to the public office of the lifts. He walked past it until he reached the fence at the edge of the cliff. The gusts of wind were stronger here, but the breeze felt nice as it ruffled his thick hair.

He could see the lifts and the waves as they lapped against the docks and the cliffs. The docks themselves were moving with each wave that came. John stared, confused and fascinated until he realized the docks were floating. They were secured to the cliffs but that was it. Beyond that they were built on floating barrels. Longboats were tied to the docks while the larger ships were anchored further away from the cliffs to keep them safe from strong waves and weather. Even the platform the lift serviced was built on barrels sealed with tar that kept it above the water.

But that wasn't what Zynga wanted him to see. What had she meant with that weird gesture? Her eyes and him... she was watching him? But he was supposed to watch her? No, not watch her, see what she saw. She wanted—

"She's my familiar!" John breathed. He should be able to look through her eyes and hear what she heard!

He grabbed on to the fence and braced himself against it before closing his eyes. He calmed himself and searched through himself. His magic twisted and danced, eager to do something, but he paid it no mind. He wasn't looking for his magic this time, he was looking for... there! A link. The spell that bound them and... wait. The magic felt the same as that which was inside of him.

John shrugged it aside and pulled the magic to him. It came easily and let him immerse himself inside of it. With a thought and a push of his will he sent himself through the bond and suddenly his eyes filled with flickering light.

"There you are," Zynga whispered. "You are clever."

John tried to look around but he wasn't in control, Zynga was. She turned away from the lantern she'd been staring at, making him glad he was holding tight to the fence as his field of view rotated and changed. He gasped when her eyes stopped and she was staring at a thick timbers lashed together . At the top there was an rope thicker than his wrist corded around the timbers. The rope ran out the back of the building.

Zynga moved forward and up to a low wall that came up to her shoulders. She hopped up, her vision bouncing and changing so rapidly John clenched his teeth to fight off the vertigo. When she settled down again she was looking over the wall. Over it and down into a pit that was over a dozen feet deep.

Inside the pit the timbers had four arms that reached out almost to the very walls of the round pit. Behind each timber thick iron chains bound a massive creature. Ogres. There were ogres being forced to turn the pit as though it was a giant grain wheel.

Zynga flopped back down and looked around, settling her eyes on three more guards, each of them heavily armed. Nearby racks of cruel barb-tipped javelins rested against the walls. Large crossbows slow to load but capable of delivering a brutal bolt were mounted in brackets on top of the half-wall.

"That's enough," she whispered and shut her eyes. "Use much more and you'll strain our bond, Master."

John wasn't sure what she meant but he released his hold on the magic. The wind picked up, caressing his face and tugging at his robe. He opened his eyes and saw a brown hair woman walking up to him, the corners of her eyes wrinkled in concern. "You all right?" she asked.

John smiled and realized he probably looked like he was in trouble. Or rather, like he was going to do something to cause some trouble for himself. He let go of the fence and backed away a step. "First time here," he told her and took the moment to appreciate what he saw. She wore a simple dress with a cloth bodice instead of a corset. The wind plucked at the strands of her brown hair not contained in the braid that disappeared behind her shoulders. She held a basket in her hands but he couldn't see what was in it.

"Take care, they don't mend those fences as often as they should," she warned him.

"That's good advice. I didn't know I was taking my life in my own hands."

She glanced at his large hands and blushed. "They seem like good hands to be in, I meant no disrespect to you."