Majutsu-shi no Chikara Ch. 12

Majutsu-shi no Chikara loosely translates to "Sorcerer's Power"

*** THIS VERSION IS TRUNCATED. Approximately 45% has been redacted from the original. I'm sure there are those who will find this more agreeable.***

CHAPTER TWELVE: Where Blood Lies

Naenia's eyes were open before Abhilash moved to kick her awake. The cold, clinging wet of the pre-dawn had invaded the hut where they lay together by the hearth, and Naenia's nose wrinkled as the hungers of her body growled noiselessly within.

"Up." Abhilash grunted, righting herself and prodding Naenia's gray-brown hip with a booted foot.

"Your heat will be on you, without..." Naenia stopped herself, remembering the life she abandoned the night before. "...without the Betrayer's magic. Keep your womb full, and it will not cloud your mind."

"Up." Abhilash kicked again, this time Naenia snarled her pained reply as the younger walked out of the hut without a backward glance.

Rising to her feet, Naenia sniffed deeply, looking at the shrouded human bodies on the narrow bed at the far side of the hearth opposite where she'd slept on the ground. Damon's face was nestled into Ginga's hair, his left arm cradling her to him protectively. The two had entered the hut in silent haste, the rasp of their shoes quiet enough but their fear-stink too strong for Naenia to sleep until they had settled onto the bed. The male human, too spent, had pleasured the female with his mouth until her fear-stink washed away in the sweet-almond and cream odor of her climax. Naenia's mouth had been wet with renewed hunger at that, but the humans quickly fell into snoring sleep -- leaving their ork companion in frustrated arousal. Abhilash had masturbated to the sound of their sex; Naenia resisted that temptation.

Now, Naenia regretted the choice, her body's lust felt to have doubled on waking and it took much of her focus to keep her hands off herself. She followed Abhilash, already halfway to the stream on the far side of the pepper field whose blossoms were beginning to sprout well ahead of season. Naenia wondered at this, for she had not seen what terrors and wonders had accompanied the old wizard's last storm, but gave no further thought to it as she submerged herself in the icy water and let the chilling current dull her body's appetite.

"Can you make his cock larger?" Abhilash looked Naenia directly in the eyes as the elder ork surfaced and wiped the water from her face.

"I've no skill at changing flesh." Naenia shook her head. "Some small magic that lets me see the nature of things, bloodlines... and power to command the mind."

"That was the Betrayer's trick, I think." Abhilash scowled, nodding thoughtfully.

"It was." Naenia shrugged. "It did not let her change flesh."

"Hmph." Abhilash snorted, dunking herself back into the water to cool her own ardor before climbing back onto the bank and donning her ill-fitting clothes.

Now, cockerels crowed loudly and goats bleated in the corrals. South-wold was stirring ahead of the dawn, just behind the orks. The cough and snort of distant humans clearing night phlegm, coupled with the muttered cursing and shuffling of two score hungover revelers rose and fell in a sussuration - a tide of autumn leaves stirred by the first cold winds at the last of that season. Weary and wary eyes peered from cowls or doorways, glancing over shoulders and from beneath frowning brows. Already, South-wold was alive with the morning's business. Cooking fires, drawing water from the stream, and herding goats away to one of the further pastures. Dour, fearful, angry glances flicked over them, whizzed by their faces. A daring few struck them full in the eyes before the humans wielding them blanched and withdrew along with their thorny suspicions.

Abhilash returned to where she'd left Damon sleeping, finding Akuji waiting outside the hut and frowning deeply at her as she approached.

"Bring him to Elder Shaum's home by sun-up." Akuji tilted his head toward the doorway, then turned to walk away. "There's much to discuss."

She answered with only a grunt of acknowledgment, watching him depart with canny interest. The dark pits beneath his tired eyes aside, Akuji was not ugly for a human. Admitting to herself, Abhilash realized that her taste for flesh had been recently canted toward a particular human male with a similar look. Likely Akuji was not possessed of the same magical seed as Damon, and Abhilash sighed dismissively before ducking back into the hut to rouse the humans slumbering there.

"Get up." Abhilash kicked the side of the bed, cracking the frame and causing the whole construction to sag toward her with the weight of its occupants. "Sun-up, be at Old Shaum's hut."

For no reason beyond the sound of it in her ears, Abhilash gave a crooked grin. Damon and Ginga, however, were startled awake; fumbling about to untangle themselves from blankets, bedding, and each other.

"What in the hells?" Damon groaned, finally standing and rubbing sleep from his eyes. Abhilash noted the identical smudges beneath his dark eyes that made him look more like his father as he squinted at her.

"Didn't need to break the damn bed." Ginga snarled, pulling her dress over her body and cinching her belt high around her waist. "And a fine morning to you."

Abhilash had only a few moments to admire Ginga's bare form again. She was small, smaller than Damon (which might be why he chose her, or she him), but her body had healthy fat from years of plenty and strong muscles honed by the labors yielding such a surplus. The width of her hips was a bit wider than Damon's, perhaps, which meant she could straddle him easily and would likely birth her young more easily than a female with a narrower frame. In all, Abhilash found Damon's tastes to be adequate (as far as human flesh was concerned). If Abhilash had not known better, she would have thought Ginga's teats already swollen with milk. They could well be the same size as Abhilash's own breasts -- but on the smaller human they looked gigantic and cumbersome. The she-ork licked her lips and stared at each of the humans for several moments until some other thought took her attention.

"Shaum's, you said?" Damon pulled his tunic and breeches on, tying his shoes on his feet and glancing up to the nodding she-ork.

Naenia was now standing outside, leaning near the edge of the doorway and looking in with muted interest. Her hand idly stroked low across her stomach, eyes unfocused and staring at a low angle through the wall opposite.

"By sun-up." Abhilash stooped to recover the Thirsty Blade. "Not long."

Nodding, the male rubbed his eyes again and looked toward the entrance. Naenia met his gaze, then glanced up to the distant mountains and the shafts of morning streaking high overhead.

"Now." Naenia turned her gaze back to Damon and huffed with boredom or irritation. Where orks were concerned, it seemed to be either... or both.

"Get something to eat." Damon leaned down to kiss a very irritated-looking Ginga, her blue-gray eyes narrowing at him dangerously as she caught his wrist in her hand.

"You'll not be rid of me, Damon." Ginga stood, marching with imperious purpose toward Shaum's home and dragging Damon behind her. "I'm sure one of your servants can manage to bring us something."

With a roll of his eyes, Damon matched the angry stomping gait and shook his head.

"They're not servants, Ginga. You know that." Whether genuine or not, his chuckle garnered a growling rebuke from the woman leading him to Elder Shaum's.

"Your brood mares, then." After that, Damon thought better than to risk offending Ginga any further -- her tone biting much the way he imagined of an ork's tusks.

Abhilash left the hut, looking Naenia up and down.

"Well, brood mare?" Abhilash gurgled orkish laughter. "Best follow."

"And you?" Naenia stood away from the doorway, Abhilash having pushed by. "What are you, if not another of his seed-wives?"

"A war-chief." Abhilash gestured with the sword in her hand. "And bearer of a magic blade."

"First among seed-wives?" Naenia smirked, turning to follow Damon. "Best we both follow, then."

"Go rut a troll." Abhilash snarled at Naenia's back.

Naenia offered no response, keeping her eyes and shoulders fixed on the path that followed Damon's scent until she could see him again -- just before Ginga dragged him inside what Naenia recognized as Shaum's home.

...

"You're a sorcerer, I think." Prende wrinkled her nose, eyes refocusing on Damon's face, as honeyed-red brows knit back and forth and her full lips quirked to one side in thought.

"We all knew that." Naenia grunted, standing near the door and watching with guarded interest. "He has magic. You've seen it."

"Well, he's not a sorcerer like Matta." Prende defended her judgment, her fingers smoothing the alien fabric covering her as if to soothe herself. "His magic looks separate, like one of Matta's spells."

"How can that be?" Nurcan, seated between Shaum and Akuji, watched from the far side of the hearth as Prende studied Damon for several moments.

All the introductions, however contrived, had been made in South-wold's traditional way. Each person entering Shaum's home greeted by the youngest member of the household, directed as to where they could sit, and offered cha to refresh themselves. Naenia had accepted the cha, but declined to sit. Abhilash had declined even the proffered cha. Damon, Ginga, and Prende were arranged where children usually sat on the floor near the hearth just left of the entrance to the house. Abhilash positioned herself near Damon, slanting her hip and reaching up to grip the edge of the loft overhead. The blade she held more like a cane, the point sinking half a finger-length into the packed earth of the floor beneath the mats. Naenia remained near the door after quaffing her cha in one swallow.

...

"More importantly," Nurcan leaned forward where she sat, Damon feeling slightly dizzy from the buffeting voices seeking his attention, "how does he control it, and not it control him?"

"Questions for another time." Akuji's voice, a soft bark, caught the room to quiet as he stood. "Damon cannot stay, and Prende has already called out this doom-song of Matta's. We have not the boon of time for all we ought. I'll see to your provision. Ask what questions and learn what lessons ye can -- but know you cannot remain the night."

As much proclamation as warning, Damon saw fresh sorrow in his father's face. In spite of it, Akuji gave him a curt nod of the head before begging leave from the elder of the house. Before Shaum could so much as wave, the Head-Elder of South-wold left them. His voice drifted backward, calling a few able hands away from their duties.

Shaum grumbled and spit, his wrinkled face twisted by rancid ill-ease.

"He is right." Scratchy, crooked words and a spare, bony hand gesture put Nurcan aback. "The Tower knows... if not all, enough. If they have not put their great and terrible minds to it, they will... and then what?"

...

"What can we teach him quickly?" Nurcan turned to the nymph.

"Little." Prende shrugged. "And much."

Their conversation became a hushed, hurried exchange -- cut liberally through by the callous or uncouth remarks of the she-orks among them. With each question, each answer: a handful of contradictions -- swirling interruptions about the differences between humans, orks, fae, and others. Damon could practice magic, but he would have to learn how to perceive it. That much, at least, they could agree upon. Naenia claimed to "squint" to see the ethereal. Nurcan "relaxed and tilted" her gaze... Prende was no help, as she claimed to always be perceiving the wave-like aether -- further claiming it was called mana or ki, depending on mortal proclivities, and that all such names were ultimately inadequate.

"Matta said that all spells require movement, music, and mind." Nurcan said, at length. "Or the movements of hands, feet, and body; the chanting, singing, or speaking of the spell; and the absolute focus of the will to draw the needed energies from Beyond."

"Beyond?" Damon asked, perhaps for the third or fourth time.

"The other side..." Prende gave him a gentle smile, touching his arm in effort to reassure him (he hoped), "beyond the boundary of this reality and into another... or many others."

"And no two spells are alike?" Damon's eyes hurt from trying to relax, tilt, and squint all at once. "How do they teach magic in the Guild?"

"Rote and measures, methinks." Nurcan pouted, stroking a hand through her hair and trying to forget Prende's constant, pressing aura. "Just as we learn to speak the same tongues, mend fences, fell trees... but the slipperiness of magic is the dangerous bit."

"Practice is good." Naenia nodded, before patting her stomach once. "Luck is good. Gut is good."

"Gut?" Ginga quirked her brows in confusion.

"Feeling." Nurcan gave an amendment, looking up to the gray she-ork to confirm it. "Gut feeling?"

"Mph." Naenia nodded.

"Magic follows patterns easily enough." Nurcan shook her head, gesturing and making a low humming sound.

With a tepid flourish little more than turning her hand, Nurcan conjured a pale glowing orb of light, no bigger than a ripe apple and barely brighter than a candle.

"Always start small." The crone's effort pulled taut across her face, sweat welling on her skin. "Be slow, and cautious."

The orb dwindled, shrinking to the size of a knuckle-bone, then grew to the size of Nurcan's head -- still no brighter than before. Releasing the orb and a labored gasp, Nurcan panted to catch her breath. The orb faded into nothingness in moments.

"And practice." Prende smiled. "If you focus your mind to a single goal; this one spell could find its boundaries drawn only by your ability to reason."

"That's wild-magic." Shaum wagged an admonishing, crooked finger toward the nymph. "You would have him burst a-flame, as Jyran did."

"Jyran was murdered, da." Nurcan patted her father's shoulder gently. "I told you, they saw the evidence of it, where they found him."

"Jyran was murdered?" Ginga's shock levered her mouth and eyes from their fixed stare.

"By Matta's assassin, belike." Nurcan nodded. "Prende and Matta sussed it out, then. Bid me tell no-one."

"Shh." Naenia lifted her hand to silence everyone, her head tilted to the side such that a pointed ear was angled out the doorway. "Does anyone else hear that?"

...

Goats shrieked in unison, scattering before their goatherds to trample baskets, chickens, or wayward small children. What birds remained in the fields picking at the abundant growth, now took wing in droves to sweep and turn northward. A distant horn-call moaned through South-wold, now catching the ears of its defenders.

Already gathered at the urging of Naenia, the humans arranged in small groups with hatchets, axes, staves, and spears to prepare for the coming troll. Her warning had been sudden, enraged, her gray-brown skin flushing dark with blood-lust. She had near dragged Akuji to the southern fields and pointed directly toward the small cloud of dust slowly growing larger or nearer to the southeast.

"That." She'd answered Akuji at last, waiting for the human to shade his eyes and stare into the distance at a threat he couldn't see, listening to a sound he couldn't hear. "One ork... followed by a troll."

Abhilash had followed more slowly, not near so bound as Naenia to South-wold's defense as her "cousin". She could hear the sound easily enough, admitting to Damon that Naenia spoke true of the approaching danger but offering little by way of details.

Grudgingly, Akuji accepted these warnings and marshaled all able bodies to arms. The children were gathered, screaming and mute alike, into huddled shelter inside several of the larger family houses. Grimly waiting, two-dozen flesh statues peered through a haze of dust that sped toward them.

"Take your defenders behind those buildings. If we cannot stop it, here, then you will need your spears. Gather what pitch or grease you can, and ready to burn the body to ashes." the she-ork jutted her chin, directing Akuji back into the village.

Another hesitation from the villagers before Akuji turned to shout orders to his fellows. Far from reluctant to withdraw from the threat of a charging troll, most of the humans still gave suspicious scowls to the orks -- in spite of the proximity of the nymph, whose presence seemed dimmed and small.

"You, nymph." Nurcan grabbed the slight fae's arm, pulling herself before Prende rather than turning the nymph toward her. "Can you slay the troll?"

"I can try to calm it." Prende pouted in deep thought, eyes focused on the horizon. "Or, maybe drive it mad with heat?"

"It is already mad." Naenia barked over her shoulder toward the fae, not bothering to turn her head. "My d... cousin can slay the thing."

"Let a sorcerer slay it." Abhilash snorted, tapping the flat of her sword on her shoulder and giving Damon a sneering smile. "What say you, Damon? Will you kill the troll?"

He gripped the borrowed axe in his hands, jaw tight with fear or loathing he did not know.

"I wouldn't know how to begin." he grumbled sidelong, a shameful blush in his cheeks.

...

Tuwile panted, listening closely to the thudding rhythm of troll-stride behind him. It had gained much in the night, but was still more than a hundred paces lagging. Sweat poured from Tuwile's flesh like sap, the thin rivers long dried in the night and his strength a shadow of what it had been after days pursuing goblins and now a full night running ahead of this damnable troll. He had called what warning he dared. It had been a reckless choice, as the troll had taken interest and increased its pace to harry him further with the promise of brutal dismemberment or worse.

When the troll had started growling to itself in the feral way of troll speech, Tuwile had felt the first shivering of real fear. Not even a moon had passed that he was free of the Betrayer's touch, and he was hounded through the night by a troll.

The shacks and huts of South-wold disappeared behind the last hill before he would reach the outer fields -- fields that had been barren or fallow on the night of the raid, now choked with sprouts and stalks of a variety Tuwile found alien.

He had seen Abhilash and the Betrayer standing with a human and the fae-creature in those fields, waiting. Their presence had been encouraging, until the troll seemed to notice something else on the wind.

Trumpeting a deep cry that shook in Tuwile's bones, the troll quickened into a reckless charge.

Tuwile broke into a sprint, leaning further forward as he lunged uphill and crested the last rise. The feverish stink of troll was all around him, the quaking earth threatening to spill him from his feet as the beast closed behind him too quickly. More than a full bow-shot from the fields, he felt the ground vanish beneath his feet -- the sun and earth spinning wildly around him as flames ran up his back where jagged tusks had ripped flesh and snapped bone.

He hit the ground on his left side and tumbled, spraying dirt and blood all around.

The troll ran forward, the ork wholly forgotten.

...

Damon watched with cold fascination as the running ork, swift as a galloping horse, was bowled-through by the troll and knocked into the air like a child's doll. His arms felt like leaden weights, and he fought to keep himself from shaking.

"Now, Abhilash." Naenia hissed, tilting herself forward and leaping into a full-on run.

"What do I...?" Damon stopped, for Abhilash hadn't even acknowledged Naenia's command -- only obeyed with an equal swiftness.

"We do nothing." Prende moved closer to him. "Except wait."