Enchanted Ch. 06

A new day for John, his third in his new life. It starts off with a bang and ends with...well... another bang.

John saw mountains. Their flanks grey and brown, dappled with scrubby trees and bushes. They rose high into the sky around him, their mighty peaks rising into the clouds. Then, as he turned—

John's eyes snapped open. A loud noise echoing in his ears. A bang or a crash? Something falling? He looked over and the clay cup was shattered on the floor, a small puddle of water spreading out from it and the wildflowers it once contained lying flat and defeated on the ground.

A shadow crossed over him. Sleep fled from him as though it was chased by riders bearing lances. He flung his sheet away and jumped to his feet. He grabbed his dagger off the table as he stuck his head out his window and looked out. The shutters were open and the pre-dawn gloom cast the town of Widow's Edge in a gloomy grey half-light.

He looked around and then up at last as he heard a scuffling noise. He caught sight of a rope disappearing as it was pulled up and over the edge of the roof. He turned and scooped up his robe and pulled it over his head. Then he grabbed his spear and was out the door and running down the hall and taking the stairs three at a time. He heard a few muffled grunts and curses from other rooms but ignored them.

John rushed through the common room, knocking a few chairs astray in his haste. A few of the commoners sleeping in corners and along walls snorted and grumbled. He heard a clang from the kitchen but was out the door before whomever it was could come and investigate.

In the empty road he spun and looked up, searching for some sign of the would be trespasser. The morning gloom washed everything in a dark grey that was harder to pierce than the darkness. John called on the magic. After hours of practice he'd learned many things. Instead of casting his sight through the eyes of Zynga, he could pull the magic to his sight. When he opened his eyes again the world was brighter, but the colors were washed away. He saw enough to spy someone dipping down the other side of the tavern's peaked roof.

He ran around the tavern and cursed himself for choosing the wrong direction. He had to run farther to clear the woodshed and small stables. There were no horses being stabled, sparing him the indignity of slipping in manure or earning a kick from a surprised horse. He heard a grunt before he managed the final corner, spurring him on.

Ahead John saw a small figure dart out of the narrow walkway behind the tavern and into another alley between buildings. John pushed himself to run after. His legs gave eager chase, his young body strong and fit.

He misjudged the turn though and collided with the wall of a house. Bouncing back he stumbled until he regained his balance and pushed on, bursting out from between houses and twisting his head and body back and forth to search for the would-be thief.

They hadn't gone far yet, but—

A dog barked from his left. John turned and ran. He ran past the house and then the next, where the dog was still barking. John's eyes narrowed. The owner's would wake soon and he didn't want to answer questions. He was on the verge of making a name for himself here already, what with the business with Irena and Harold.

John looked up and down the street a final time before cursing his luck. He turned and jogged away, heading back toward the inn. He reached the road that would take him back to it and glanced back over his shoulder. Nothing seemed amiss or out of place. The dog had been silenced too. Widow's Edge was quiet again. Quieter than he'd ever heard it, in fact, but he'd never been up at this time before.

John turned left instead of right. He moved as fast as he could manage and realized after a moment just how quiet he was. Looking down he realized why— he'd left his sandals in his room! He'd paid no mind to the small rocks he stepped on before, but now that he wasn't as obsessed with chasing the unknown person, every rock and stick seemed to stab him in the most sensitive parts.

Scowling at his haste, John reached the hall that led to the tunnels soon enough. He nodded to the single sleepy guard on duty and passed through, heading for the stairs. He went down the first flight and then the second before finding a smaller side passage to hide himself in.

He tucked himself in and waited, his spear held tight against him. With the lanterns lighting the passage he released the magic enhancing his sight but kept it ready. Last night's practice had taxed it some, but he'd built it up over the past day and still had enough to spare.

He'd learned much in that time, from minor enhancements to himself to using the magic to manifest real effects. He'd sparked a flame and even managed to grab his spear from across the room and pull it to his hand. There was much more he was sure he could master, with time and power, but figuring out that much had left his mind a tired and mushy mess that needed sleep.

Now he was wide awake. He watched the main thoroughfare from town to dock from the tunnel he'd ducked into. Anyone coming down the stairs would round a corner and pass him. They would see him too, no doubt, but by then it would be too late. Maybe not too late for them to run, but too late to avoid him.

Still, he waited for several minutes. Long enough his mind began to wander. Was the invader meaning to steal from him, or had they come to silence him? A quick knife in the dark to pay him back for what he'd done to Harold.

Harold had been cruel to his wife, that much John knew. His words were harsh but, sadly, that was no crime in most places. His actions though... he'd been neglectful to her, certainly, and expected certain things of her. She'd hinted he might have hurt her before too, but John couldn't be certain. Widow's Edge and the world of Kroth in general was a better place without Harold in it, but the town's sheriff might not agree with him.

Did Widow's peak have a sheriff? They had guards, certainly, but were they private sell swords or part of a city watch? Three days now and he wasn't even sure if Widow's Edge had a lord or a mayor. Perhaps even a council? Foolish of him to let such matters go. He was a learned man... or he had been. Well, he thought he had been. Perhaps the glimpses of his former life was nothing more than barely remembered parts of dream. Much like the mountains he'd dreamed this morning.

A scuff of a foot on stairs scattered John's thoughts. He gripped his spear tighter and marshaled the magic within him. He would be ready this time, whether it was a thief, assassin, or just an unlucky boy hoping to find a place to catch a few hours sleep.

A shadow was chased down the wall before the person rounded the corner. They were small and slender, matching the build that John had glimpsed on the run. Just a boy with bare foot and loose pants beneath a tattered cloak and hood. It was the same person, he was sure of it. He remembered the cloak billowing out as the boy raced around a corner ahead of him.

John stepped out and set his staff firmly to the smooth rock floor.

The boy froze for a second mid-step, but he caught himself and lurched forward into a run. He darted past John before he could react. John turned, his teeth clenched in frustration, and used his free hand to throw his magic.

Rather than grabbing the flapping cloak and trying to hold the boy he clapped him in the back and staggered him. His arms flew out, wind milling to try and keep his balance, but John's push had been fueled with too much frustration. He crashed to the ground, grunting as he hit and slid.

John rushed after him as he struggled to climb back to his feet. A solid foot to the back of the boy pushed him back down and earned a second grunt of air bursting from his chest. John held him down lowered his spear so that it was next to the boy's face.

The boy stopped squirming and slowly pulled his arms out from beneath his cloak. One of them held a short blade with a gentle curve to it. A dagger fit for cutting ropes... or meat. He let go of it and pushed it away.

"Roll over," John growled and stepped off his back. He moved to the side but kept his spear trained on the lad. "Slowly."

The boy did as he was bade, twisting and rolling away from the wall toward John. John had to step back again. The hood fell back enough to light up the boy's face. John barked out a laugh and shook his head.

"You're not a boy," he said. "Who are you and why are you trying to slip into my room."

The girl glared up at him. Her head was wrapped in a rag but her green eyes were fierce. Green eyes under...

John's eyes narrowed. Her eyebrows were ginger colored. The more he looked at her the more she looked like—

"I wanted to know if it was true," she said. "Steff says you've got the cock of a horse. Do you?"

"You're not Red..." John said.

"Red's my sister," the girl said. "Steff won't shut up about you. Going on all day, she was. John the Long and how you damn near split her in two. She's never had a man like you and she'll have no other man cause they wouldn't come close. It's made us all sick, so I come to see if she's gone mad or if you really are John the Long."

"By the saints," John groaned.

"I knew it!" she crowed. "Steff's gone mad. Red will have to be done with her. No way the crew will fear her knowing she's gone daft."

John scooped her dagger up and reached down to offer the girl a hand. She took it and stood up, then adjust her clothes before settling her cloak around her. Her worn sailors garb was too loose for him to get a good look at her, which did a good job of making her look like a boy instead of a girl.

"How old are you, sister of Red?"

She tilted her head as she tried to remember. "I've been sailing with Red for nine — no, ten — summers now and I ran from home when I was ten and wouldn't let my mum turn me into no kitchen maid or seamstress."

"What's your name?"

She lifted her chin and said, "They call me Little Red. Or Red the Younger."

"I'm sure they do. What does Red call you when it's just you and her and you've crossed her?"

Little Red's lips lifted into a grin. "Little Shit seems to be her favorite."

John chuckled in spite of himself. "All right, fair enough. How long is the Red Witch staying in town, Little Red?"

Her eyes glanced about before she offered a shrug. "Can't rightly say, I'm not the captain."

"Surely you've got your sister's ear."

"And surely you can't think I'd let her trust in me bring her down."

John sighed. "I'm asking so I know how long I have to see Steff again before you set sail, that's all."

She looked around the hall again. We were alone. At this hour the drunks were passed out, the guards sleeping on duty, roosters not ready to crow, and only the bakers just rising to light their stoves and make their bread. Her young eyes crinkled as she realized where he'd been and where she was when she'd fallen.

"How'd you knock me down?" she asked. "You didn't throw your spear."

I wiggled my fingers. "Magic. I'm... I used magic. Don't think to cross me, Little Red. Steff pleased me and I pleased her in turn, as she said. For that that anger me... well, I chase them down. If they anger me enough I do very bad things to them."

John saw the whites of her eyes as he sucked in a breath. "You're a wizard?"

"I'm a man that can suck out your soul and offer it to the darkest lords in return for favors."

She clamped her mouth shut and swallowed. "A couple of days. Red's looking for the right cargo."

"What kind of cargo is the right cargo?"

"Depends. Whatever brings us the most gold for the least hassle. Except cattle. We won't do cattle no matter the cost. She done that once and we couldn't get the stink out of the hold for months!"

John grunted. "So she really is just a transport?"

Little Red's eyes narrowed. "What else you think she'd be? A pirate? We work hard for what we got and we've no love for those that try to take it from us."

John offered a short bow. "I apologize for my doubts."

She looked at him and sniffed. "Good.... Um, that magic you used on me, it's gone now? Right?"

John smiled. "Why, would you like to see some more?"

"No!" she yelped. "I mean... no thank you. I'm fine... I just... I really ought to be getting back to my ship. I slipped out and no one knows I'm gone. Red'll be right pissed if she finds out."

"Why don't I escort you then? Make sure you get back safe."

"Oh... um... I can... I'll be fine, really."

"No, I insist," John said.

Little Red swore and then offered him a weak smile. "You're not going to hop in the long boat too, are you?"

"Come on, Little Red," John said. "Let's make sure you get back safe and sound."

She swore again and started walking. John followed behind her, staying close and trying to ignore how cold the rocky floor was on his feet. At least it had been worked flat and then worn smooth by years of people passing through the tunnels.

A few people were moving about in the great hall but none paid any attention to John or Little Red. The young woman led him through the stone archway to the docks. John staggered as they bobbed and swayed under him on their floats. He heard a chuckle from Little Red and thought about asking her about it, but decided not to scare her more.

Little Red led him to a boat big enough for a dozen men. It had fittings for four oars, but only two were locked in. John had a hard time imaging the young woman rowing the boat by herself.

"Well, here it is," she said as she stood beside the boat. Ropes from the bow and stern of the ship tied it to the dock. "Um, thanks for the escort?"

John peered out across the dull grey sea. Mists floated off the water, blanketing everything further. He was sure even his magically enhanced sight would be foiled by the fog. "Where's the Red Witch?"

"Oh... it's out there. Hard to see in the mists but she's out that way a few hundred yards."

"Just you on this longboat?"

She sniffed. "Yeah, just me. Why would I need more? You think a big boat is too much for a little girl like me?"

John smiled. "I'm guilty, I did. I'm impressed, Little Red."

She stiffened even as she puffed out her chest a little. A shapeless chest that John still couldn't see enough of to judge. Steff had been small chested and Red, for all her swagger, hadn't been large busted either. These were working girls though — not the sort that did their work on their back rather, but the woman that were bound to be tough as nails for all the hard work they did on a ship.

"Right, well, I'll tell Steff you'll call on her then?" Little Red asked.

"Please do," John said. He held up her dagger, drawing her eyes to it. "I'll keep this safe until then, my way of promising to visit you again."

She snorted. "More like you'll keep it. That's my best blade."

"So you have more?"

She hesitated and then shrugged. "A girl's got to be prepared."

John smiled. "I can appreciate that. It's a dangerous world. Take care though, the blood of a warlock is powerful stuff... with a powerful curse if it's spilled."

She sucked in another breath and nodded. "I wasn't going to do you no harm. I just... I wanted to know. Didn't seem possible what she said."

"I could show you," John offered.

Her eyes darted back and forth. "What? Here? Now?"

"Nobody's on the dock's this early."

"You're a madman!" she challenged him. "You're having fun with me."

John chuckled. "I am... but I'm not a liar. If Steff's in trouble because of me, I'll do what I can to help her out."

"What... um... what did you do to her?"

"I gave her pleasure," John said. "Almost more than she could handle."

She laughed. "Steff can handle a lot!"

"You've seen her at work?"

Little Red blushed and shook her head. "No! I mean... all the things they say about her."

"The peg?"

She blushed deeper. "That too."

"So it's true? She does that to men?"

She nodded.

John winced. "Well, she didn't do that to me."

"She mentioned that," Little Red admitted. "Said she'd never been fucked the way you fucked her."

John winced at the young woman's sudden language. The way she said the word added a force to it too.

"Then she told me she done something she never done before. Something she would have never done neither... but she can't wait to do it again with you."

His curiosity piqued John leaned on his spear. "Really? What's that."

Little Red glanced around before saying in a soft voice. "She said she drank... you know. Your stuff. Straight as it comes too. From the source, even."

John chuckled. "She did."

Her eyes dropped to the bulge in John's robes. "You mean she... how? She put her lips on it and..."

"You've never done that?"

She shook her head.

"But you've lain with a man?"

"Of course I have! Not sure what all the fuss is about though. Soon as it starts to feeling good they're done and I'm left with a mess."

"You poor girl," John sighed.

"What?"

"You've been neglected."

She shrugged. "I'm doing fine."

"I meant— never mind that. I can't tell with you all bundled up like that, have you bathed recently?"

"We keep ourselves good and clean," she protested. "Red demands it of all the crew."

John looked around. All this talk had done more than make him curious. His blood was up and there was no way it was going down without some relief. That or maybe a dip in the ocean if the water was cold enough.

"My room is too far," he muttered.

"You said it yourself, the docks are dark and no one's about... or where you pulling my leg?"

John grinned. "I've never done it on a boat before," he suggested. Or had he? He had no idea... the new him hadn't tried it, at least.

She stepped into the boat and motioned for him to follow. John nearly lost his balance and fell over as he stepped in and the boat rocked. Little Red grabbed him and helped him steady himself before she turned and bent over the front to untie the rope.

"What are you doing?" John asked.

"I'll move us out a bit to be safe," she said.

"Oh," he grunted. He turned and looked at the oars. "Can I help?"

"Still think a little girl like me can't do the hard work of a man?"

John chuckled and held up his hands. He moved to sit on a bench closer to the bow and said, "It's all you, Little Red."

"Damn right it is," she said and moved past him to untie the stern line. She pushed off the dock and picked up a pole to guide the longboat further away from the dock. Satisfied they were headed the right way she moved to the bench where the oars were fitted and took them in hand. She dipped them into the water and worked her magic.

John watched, impressed and then amazed as she guided the boat away from the dock. The boat moved smooth and steady and in a perfect arc until she straightened it out and put more distance. The boat gained speed and slipped through the mists until the lights of the docks began to look like fuzzy will o wisps dancing above the water. She let the oars go and turned to face him, a smile on her face.

"Well done," John praised her.

"Thanks... now what do we do?"

"I thought you said you'd done this before?"

"I thought you said I'd been neglected?"

He laughed. "You're feisty, I like that."

She slipped her cloak off and the pulled her shirt up and over her head. John stared, shocked at her brashness and then impressed with the way her breasts swayed and moved. They were large, in fact. Or looked to be on her slender frame. He was so taken with them he nearly missed her sliding her breeches down and then standing naked in the middle of the boat, her legs spread and knees bent to take the waves. Her nethers were covered in a light thatch of red hair.

"You're beautiful," he said.

"I've heard it before," she mumbled even as she blushed. "Now you show me yours."