Enchantress 2 - Warrior Duchess

- a continuing celebration of -

Fifty Years of Pratchett

© 2023 Duleigh Lawrence-Townshend. All rights reserved. The author asserts the right to be identified as the author of this story for all portions not previously copyrighted by Terry Pratchett. This story or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a review or commentary. If you see this story on any website other than Literotica.com, it has been copied without the author's permission.

This is a work of love, a fan fiction. Many of these characters are the creation of Sir Terry Pratchett, as is the multiverse in which they live. If you would like to find out which of these characters is or is not a creation of Terry please contact this author. This tale was not written to steal the fame that Sir Terry rightfully earned, but to enjoy one more romp in the shadow of Cori Celesti and remind the world of what we lost on March 12, 2015.

"One day I'll be dead and THEN you'll all be sorry."

- Terry Pratchett, 28 Nov 1992 on alt.fan.pratchett

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ENCHANTRESS

The Warrior Duchess

{With parenthetical annotations}

Prologue: In our Previous Story a young man named Pommeraie de la Montesquieu "Nick" Stein {He was named after a type of cheese. His nick name Nick comes from his previous job where he was hired to steal bricks} was hired by Octavia Worblehat to assist her in her next big project. Octavia is a trained Senior Master Librarian and fully qualified wizard and earned a doctorate in Multi-theistic Amphibology before returning to her home 16 years in her past where she occasionally bumps into her 8 year old self. She returned home and hired Nick to help her save the Discworld and eight other discworlds from entire annihilation.

Along the way, Nick loses an eye, but gains enough magical energy to become a witch, and they settle down in a small mountain town to live out their days in peace and quiet. However, the couple has the discworld in a turmoil, on the discworld women are witches, men are wizards and no one accepts them in their reversed roles except the people that know them.

However, Octavia is not a wizard, she's an enchantress, and it's not the same thing. This distinction is something the discworld is about to discover.

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She approaches, the Queen of the Interstellar Pathways, watch in awe as she swims into view, Great A'Tuin, the grandest of the giant Star Turtles (Chelys galactica), enormous and magnificent. She swims through the multiverse following migratory paths that were written into her genome by the greatest prankster of all, The Creator. Free of the drag of her children she is hungry and now she is hunting. Her eyes, each the size of a sea, look forward to a destination known only to her. She possesses a brain the size of a small planet that moves at a speed that makes glaciers look downright spry. Her immense flippers propel her through the nothingness that is open space with massive strokes that take generations to complete. Her carapace is frosted with frozen methane, scarred with meteor craters, and coated with the intergalactic dust of eons of travel.

On her back stand four tremendous elephants, Berilia, Tubul, Great T'Phon, and Jerakeen, the World Elephants (Elephantidae Kosmosea). Tail to tail they stand patiently watching the stars drift by as they bear the weight of the world on their shoulders. As we watch, Berilia must raise one of her feet to give the tiny sun that orbits the disc room to pass beneath him.

Ten thousand miles in diameter the discworld is the marvel of the multiverse, around the circumference of the disk is the eternal waterfall that is the Rimfall. At the center of the discworld is the hub, a mountain that stands ten miles in height, the name of the peak is Cori Celesti, which at the top is the palace complex named Dunmanifestin, the home of the Disc's many gods. Most of them are completely mad. {the rest are utterly mad}

On the disc, the hard working honest citizens of the different principalities, kingdoms, fiefdoms, countries, and empires sleep hoping that their place of employment still requires their labor in the morning. It's late, the tiny moon rules the sky and the night shift now rules the disc. In the desert kingdom of Djelibeybi the followers of the sun god Cephnet surround the temple of the competing sun god Thrrp and crouch, waiting, and sharpening their knives. Come sunrise the true sun god will be crowned. Meanwhile the followers of Thrrp won't be there to defend their temple as they're too busy preparing their attack on the temple of Cephnet. {In the Djelibeybi pantheon the supreme god Ptooie makes banged grains {discworld popcorn} for his guests, the gods Net, Set, Sot, and Orexis-Nupt. The show starts at sunrise}

In Ankh-Morpork the oldest city on the discworld the night shift is in full swing, murderers, thieves, assassins, rapists, muggers, buggerers and night soil salesmen are out in force working hard to fill their quotas. As they labor, in the former Palace of the Seventeen Kings, now known as The Patrician's Palace, the ruler of the city, the Patrician Havelock Vetinari was puzzling over a dilemma. A young, good-looking couple, both Ankh-Morpork born and raised, just saved the world, just saved nine worlds so Political Hay must be made. The problem was that they now reportedly live in the Kingdom of Lancre and have disappeared from sight, so now the question arises, how does Ankh-Morpork profit from all of their hard work and sacrifice? He took quill in hand and scratched out a few ideas, signed a few execution orders and filled out a request for the assassin's guild, then called for his secretary...

In the tiny mountain kingdom of Lancre there rests the small village of Bad Ass {named for a stubborn mule} and in a small steading outside of the village, in the ancient cabin lies the body of Esmirelda Weatherwax. She's not dead, in fact in her cold hands is clutched a handwritten sign that says "I ATE'NT DEAD"

She truly was not dead, she was borrowing. Borrowing is a magical technique used almost exclusively by witches {because most wizards think it's lame and refuse to try} where a witch leaves her body behind in a deep, deep sleep and enters the mind of an animal and tonight Granny was in an owl. Borrowing is the art of convincing an animal to allow your conscience into its mind, and then gently steering it, convincing it to go where you want, and do what you want without losing connection to your own mind when the exercise is over.

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In the tiny Lancre mountain village of Creel Springs, Nick Stein dreamed that he awoke hungry and thirsty, and he found himself back on a tiny island where there was nothing to eat or drink, the only thing on the island with him was Death. And Death was reclining in a wood and canvas beach lounger wearing black shrouds and sandals and was reading the Sunday Times. "THREE TIMES LUCKY, I AM IMPRESSED," said the Anthropomorphic Personification of Death.

Nick shuddered thinking of his recent near brushes with death, he was stomped bloody by a flock of stampeding sheep, then he was almost eaten by a dingaroo, then most recently he was almost swallowed by a planet eating beast. Only his ability to change forms through the magic of Vanemate Rasside Jõud, an ancient book of power saved his life. "I'm not a wizard, why am I seeing you?" gasped Nick as he spit sand out of his mouth and tried to drag his aching body toward the water line to maybe rinse the sand out with salt water. He didn't need to do that, because as the sun rose, the island was disappearing under the rising tide, the water line would soon come to him.

Without looking up from his paper, Death said, "YOU ARE A WITCH, A HEALER. WE WILL BE COMPETING AGAINST EACH OTHER FOR THE LIVES OF YOUR PATIENTS."

"I can't be a witch, I'm a male."

Death turned the page to the sports scores. "IT'S YOUR FATE, THAT'S NOT MY RESPONSIBILITY."

As Nick considered what Death just said he weakly spit sand out of his mouth, "Gods am I thirsty."

"NO ONE HAS EVER HEARD OF A THIRSTY SHARK," said Death as he began to fold up his newspaper.

"That was very nice of you to suggest that, thank you," said Nick as he dragged himself to the waterline. Why didn't he think of that?

"LET US CALL IT PROFESSIONAL COURTESY," said Death as Nick pulled himself into the water. There was a flash of octarine light and the kick of a shark's tail and the sandy spit of land was empty again...

With a stifled shriek of terror Pommeraie de la Montesquieu Stein, known to everybody as "Nick" woke up in his bed, his body soaked in sweat, breathing heavy, and his nerves jittery and on edge. The love of his life, Dr. Octavia Worblehat-Stein, SML {Senior Master Librarian} lay naked next to him, a satisfied smile still gracing those perfect lips. Full, round breasts, large nipples when erect, trim, narrow waist and round hips with a perfectly sculpted ass. Nick still has no idea where she looks more beautiful, in sunlight, or starlight, candlelight, or moonlight. Nick and Octavia are the most unique couple in the Ramtop Mountains, and probably on the entire discworld. A wizard married to a witch, that's something that hasn't happened in 300 years, but what makes it unique is that he is the Witch, and she is the Wizard, that has never happened. Ever.

Anyone who has spent more than a mayfly's lifespan on the discworld knows that the concept of a male witch and a female wizard is heretical at best, insane at least. The wizards would never go for it! a woman wizard? Unheard of! But technically Octavia Stein is no longer a wizard even though she trained for it and was certified at a leading school of witches and wizards off of the discworld, on the discworld since the minute she saw Nick she became an Enchantress. She doesn't carry a staff, she doesn't wear a pointy hat {unless the occasion requires it} in fact she doesn't wear much, and to those that she enchants, it appears like she isn't wearing anything. Happily, the only man she has enchanted is now her husband.

As for Nick, he was never truly a wizard, he never trained for it, but twenty years of soaking up magical radiation when he lived next to the Unseen University and ate out of their trash cans gave him more magical ability than most wizards that graduate from university will ever achieve. {As his wife likes to say, "He's magically well endowed."} All he needed was training. As he recovered from his injuries, Octavia's walking stick transferred all of Octavia's magical knowledge and training to him. Bugarup University gave Nick a certificate of graduation from the College of Hard Knocks after surviving a vicious attack by a pack of Dingaroos in the bush on the continent of XXXX but that was almost a joke, a "Congratulations for not Dying Mate!" He had learned to repair old books and one of those books was so grateful that it empowered Nick with the powers of the long forgotten elder races allowing him to change form to any creature that he has studied and as he works at his bookstore he has learned medicine and now is considered a witch by people more important than Death, his neighbors.

As Nick gazed at his beautiful wife, a sudden noise startled him, this wasn't the noise an old cottage makes as the temperature changes and the wooden beams find newer and better ways to hold on to each other, this was the sound of someone clearing their throat. Nick whirled and there in the corner was Death seated in his wife's rocking chair. "No," was the only thing Nick could say, then finally, "Dear Gods no, you promised!"

"I AM NOT HERE FOR YOU OR YOUR WIFE. THERE IS ONE OTHER." His voice boomed like the blast of a trombone in each ear, yet at the same time was as quiet as sands shifting in a long forgotten desert tomb. Death held a hand that was nothing but bones over Octavia and a tiny point of octarine light, the color of magic, {octarine is described as a greenish yellow/purple which ends up being a disappointing shade of blue. Luckily it can only be seen by wizards, witches, and cats} gently traveled from Octavia to Death's hand leaving a slim trail of octarine light in its wake. Then Death took a tiny version of his scythe which was honed so sharp that the air molecules that were unlucky enough to hit the edge of the blade sparked as they were split apart and he cut the trail from the tiny pencil point of light to Octavia; Death took their baby.

"Why?" gasped Nick.

"IT IS SOMETHING THAT HAPPENS WITH FIRST TIME PARENTS; IT WILL NOT AFFECT FUTURE PREGNANCIES."

"How many more times will you take a family member from me?" whispered the anguished Witch.

"I WILL NOT TAKE YOUR WIFE OR ANY CHILDREN FROM YOU DURING YOUR LIFETIME," and with that Death slowly faded away. He told the truth, but he didn't fully answer the question. Nick placed his hand on his wife's lower abdomen and the tiny, vibrant spot of life that they enjoyed watching grow stronger was gone. Nick felt a soul clenching sorrow for a son or daughter that he never met, and he felt that he had to do something... anything to eclipse that sorrow.

Shaken by the dream of his last near Death encounter {Death insists that he's the one that had a near Nick encounter} followed by the loss of his child Nick got out of bed quietly and made his way downstairs. He decided to leave Octavia asleep and talk with her when she wakes.

He stepped out on the porch, his entire body shaking, and when the cool evening breeze touched his sweat dampened skin he shook even harder. "Who did death want?" asked a voice from down by his shin.

"The baby," was all Nick could say. He could tell it was true by the pain in his heart.

"You need to go for a run," said Gaspode. "It's the only thing that will help." {Actually, there were a number of things that would help, but Gaspode was keenly aware of Nick's financial status.}

Nick stepped off the porch and the moment his feet touched the cool, damp grass he realized that his dog was right and with a puff of octarine light Nick became a Ramtop red deer and he took a few steps. "Ready? Set?" Suddenly Gaspode flashed past him. "You bitch," and Nick broke into a run and tried to catch up with his friend.

{Back in the spring Nick used some of the librarian skills that Octavia taught him and "rescued" an ancient book of power. It was in horrible condition because nobody could read it so one of the most powerful books on the disk was used as a trivet for the library tea pot. The book was written in the language of the Mountain Ergonians, the last Elven race on discworld before the elves were driven off in The War of the United Clans. The book was lost to history and forgotten just like the elves, only the book remains, it was the Vanemate Rasside Jõud, "The Power of the Elder Races." The book wasn't about the power of the elder races, the book contained the power of the elder races, and its feelings of gratitude to Nick showed no bounds, and it gladly gave Nick that power. It doesn't always matter if you can read a book, because a book this powerful can read you.

When Archchancellor Henry, the Archchancellor of Brazeneck College in Pseudopolis attacked Octavia, Nick had his hand on the Vanemate Rasside Jõud which he had just finished repairing and the grateful book gifted Nick with its power and Nick convinced Archchancellor Henry to leave Octavia alone by transforming into a seven foot tall dingaroo and threatening to bite off Henry's head}

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Drifting over the tiny backwoods mountain kingdom of Lancre, Granny Weatherwax borrowing an owl's body was looking at the citizens as they slept looking to see if anyone needs the assistance of a witch or was having fun that she didn't approve of. As she swept over an open field she saw a dog chasing a hart, a Ramtop Mountain Red Deer buck with a huge rack of antlers. The dog barked and nipped at the hart and occasionally the hart would stop and lower his antlers at the dog, threatening the noisy little animal. "Some folks should learn to leash their dogs," harumphed Granny and she landed on a branch of a large beach tree to watch.

They ran through Nick and Octavia's meadow, Gaspode nipping at Nick's legs trying to get him to run faster. Soon they were laughing and enjoying the chance to run in the moonlight. They raced through a marshy area splashing and getting mud on each other, then Nick and Gaspode raced through the copse of wood that separated their property from Erin MacClenny 's land. The friends laughed and played leaving misery behind, Nick occasionally lowered his antlers at Gaspode in an "I dare you!" gesture which caused Gaspode to dash in between the multitude of antler points and nip at Nick's nose. "Gaspode," whispered Nick, "there's a witch in that tree watching us."

"Who?"

"Granny Weatherwax, she's borrowing an owl."

"Oh, that old thing," grumbled Gaspode. Images of a witch threatening young lost girls and their little dogs came to mind. Images of witches luring children into candy covered cottages only to be baked in a 350 degree oven for four hours. Gaspode was not a fan "Let's go say hi to her."

"Ok."

The deer stopped tussling with the dog and sprinted toward the tree that Granny was sitting in, and as they passed under her the deer looked up at her and nodded, then the dog said, "Good evening, Granny!" The deer that looked up at her had a silver key hanging from a ribbon around its neck and one golden eye.

Thirty minutes later an owl perched on the windowsill of Granny's cottage, and in the cold farmhouse Granny sat up with a start. Something is wrong in Creel Springs and she decided that she would be the one to fix it.

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Granny was right, something was up in Creel Springs, and the town folks loved it. A new witch was in town and even though it was a young man, he was knowledgeable, dependable, caring and nice. Every day he walked the village from one end to the other greeting everyone he could, then he would spend the day in his bookstore spending most of his time doing fine calligraphy for announcements or invitations, and repairing and restoring fine old books that were brought to him by libraries from all over the disc, which was odd because no one ever saw a delivery cart at the store.

But as he worked in his bookstore, anyone could walk in with any bump or bruise, sneeze or cough and he would do something to help. A healing draught, a salve or poultice, and always a kind word and a sweet for the children