Mud and Magic Ch. 01-03

The third combatant... Rhys didn't know how long he stood and stared, trying to understand what exactly he saw.

"Heh. That's Borna," Galdor said. He sounded unbelievably smug. "Takes quite a bit to stop you dead in your tracks, I see."

Rhys shook his head and tried again. The being called "Borna" was easily as large as Hilgrun, bigger than any woman he had ever seen before. And she was definitely female. Her face rivaled the icon of Mercy in her serene beauty, with white, feather-like hair and skin as pure as fresh snow. He didn't see her eyes, she wore a blindfold much like Hilgrun did. At around neck height, the creamy white of her skin vanished, replaced by large, uneven scales covering a shapely pair of breasts and the rest of her body. The scales were mostly blood-red along her front and turned into a charcoal-black on her shoulders, the rear of her arms and legs and her back. Two vestigial limbs sprouted off her shoulder blades like withered branches and a long, sinuous tail grew from just above her butt crack. A thick swath of fabric had been wound around the tip. She stalked the sand on long legs, her feet ending in black, cloven hooves. A loincloth was her only article of clothing. Like the tip of her tail, her fists were wrapped up, leaving them to look more like mitts.

"I don't understand... She's a demon!" Rhys whispered. Borna's head turned his way. Without breaking her stride, she blocked one of Hilgrun's slashes with her armored forearm and sunk her fist in the tall blonde's stomach, easily lifting her off her feet. Hilgrun crumpled to the floor, coughing furiously, but Borna wasn't done. Her tail slashed through the air, missing the dark elf's head by a few hairs.

He jumped into the air. Rhys could hardly believe his eyes. Instead of falling, the dark elf drifted upwards until his feet were level with Borna's head. He kicked, hitting her square on the forehead. If his hit had any effect at all, Rhys couldn't say. Faster than a lightning bolt, Borna's fist came up, clipping his thigh. The mitt scratched along his leg. Despite the padding, four long, irregular cuts appeared, bleeding profusely. A moment later, the tail whipped up and around the dark elf's waist. The padded tip rested against his chest.

He made a protesting sound then Borna slammed him into the sand. Her hoof came down, gently tapping his sternum.

"And you're dead," the red-scaled...thing said, her voice a raspy hum.

"Now that you mention it," the dark elf grumbled. "I'll teach you to upstage your arms master."

Borna took a step back and pulled off her blindfold before leaning down and hauling the panting, sweating dark elf to his feet. "I think we have earned enough bruises for one day," she said. "Our visitors are just the perfect reason to end the lesson." She turned around and favored Galdor and Rhys with a dazzling smile.

"Don't be mad at Rhys here. He's new," Galdor said, taking a step in front of Rhys.

Borna eyed Rhys, cocking her head. Somehow her movements reminded him of a nervous bird -- if nervous birds had long, whip-like tails and hoofed feet. "You smell delicious. Meaty. I would like to taste you. Later."

"Uh... I don't think so," Rhys muttered, raising his arms. "Nice to meet you?"

"We'll see about that," Borna whispered, brushing past him. Her tail slithered up his leg, the padded tip bumping against his crotch. Then she was past him and through the doors.

"I'd better go and help her out of her padding," Hilgrun groaned, standing up and, pulling off her own blindfold. "Hello poet. Or should I say 'mageling?'" She moved past him and slapped his shoulder, nearly buckling his knees. "Blue suits you." The door slammed shut behind her.

"Ow. She really doesn't like me," Rhys complained, rubbing his shoulder.

"You are mistaken," the dark elf said, joining them. "When she absolutely does not like someone, she happens to break both their arms." He rubbed his elbows. "I'm Hagazz."

"Haggis?" Rhys asked, bemused.

The dark elf groaned. "Ha-gazz. Proud orcish name. 'Tearer of limbs.'"

Galdor snickered. "You wish."

"Sorry," Rhys stammered. "It's such a strange name."

Hagazz sighed, a sound coming from the deepest recesses of his soul. "Believe me, if I had a gold coin for every time someone tried to make fun of my name, I wouldn't have to sell my skills to Thurguz."

"Is it so bad?" Rhys asked.

"When the girls are spirited like today, yes. Brings back bad memories of all my female siblings piling on me. Can you imagine being the least wanted being under your roof?"

Rhys nodded emphatically. "You have no idea."

"Oh." Hagazz beamed. "Make it ten times worse and you have my life. It is hard enough for a dark elven female to get pregnant to begin with but after Mother had practically fucked everything, probably even including the pack lizards and finally got pregnant, only for her offspring to be male..."

"I don't understand," Rhys said.

"In our society, females are the dominant gender. The Chaos Queen only allows females to become clerics, and clerics have all the power Below. You really don't want to be male in a dark elven city. You might enjoy a glorious day or two if you catch someone's fancy -- we're famous for being incredible sluts-"

"Still training almost naked I see," Galdor cut in. "Idunn won't be happy about that."

"Back home, we didn't even use loincloths. Or padded weapons. Believe me, when my sisters had it in for me...," Hagazz muttered. There was a distinct stirring under his loincloth.

"Isn't that very dangerous?" Rhys asked. "I mean, I'm no fighter, but-"

"Of course it is," Hagazz said, picking up Hilgrun's discarded weapon. "Even padded, this can easily break your fingers if you're not careful. And that's the whole point." His eyes measured Rhys. "Thurguz or Idunn said when I can have you?"

Rhys took a step back. "Me? I- um... I thought I'd become a spell caster!"

Galdor snickered. "And you should be able to defend yourself without magic. An enemy gets too close, interrupts your concentration and you're dead."

"In theory, you should never allow an enemy to get that close in the first place," Hagazz said. "As such, once I am allowed to teach you, you should learn the ways of the knife and the quarterstaff. I'm sure Idunn and Thurguz won't allow you to spar as much as I think is wise but you will at least be able to dispatch most fools who stray too close for comfort."

"I'm... looking forward to it," Rhys said, suspiciously eyeing the bruises on Hagazz' skin.

The door opened behind them and quick steps came closer. Rhys looked over his shoulder. Idunn bore down on them.

"Here you are. I have been looking all over for Rhys," she growled. "Didin't I tell you I don't have all day?" Despite her short stature, her loud voice and imposing demeanor made her appear almost as tall as Rhys was.

"Sorry cousin," Galdor said, slightly bowing his head. "Seems like we got stuck."

"Well, at least you didn't get him killed by Borna. That has to count for something."

"Um, speaking of our glorious demon princess," Hagazz began, pointing at his mangled thigh. "I wouldn't mind a bit of healing...since you're already here-like..."

Idunn looked at the long, irregular wounds. Now that he was closer, Rhys thought they looked more like oozing burns than deep slashes. "I told you to wear padding when dealing with her," the female dwarf snarled. She pulled a small flask from a pocket in her robe and handed it to Hagazz. The dark elf drank greedily and the wounds slowly closed.

"Thank you, dear colleague," he purred, caressing down Idunn's back and fondly cupping a butt cheek.

She slapped his hand away and turned to Rhys. Much gentler than he had expected, she laid a hand on his arm. "Let's go already."

* * * *

"Sorry to cut short your tour," Idunn said. "But you won't miss much if you skip the ground floor. There's mainly the entrance hall, rooms for servants and guests and all the places needed to keep us fed and warm." She walked briskly up the stairs to the third floor, Rhys in tow.

"A question, if I may. Borna. I-," Rhys threw his hands up, at a loss for words.

Idunn chuckled. "She is something else, isn't she? Showed up one day at the front door of the tower, nearly starved to death and with wounds which would have killed an ordinary mortal."

"What exactly is she?"

"No one quite knows. The only thing we're certain of is that she is indeed a mortal, not a demon, despite her looks."

"Hard to believe."

"She told Thurguz and me that she was born a normal human. The transformation came later but so far she hasn't opened up about it. All we know is that she is incredibly strong and resilient. Here we are." Idunn opened a door to a training room.

To Rhys' surprise, the eight-sided room already was occupied. Sitting on a low bench, wrapped in a sheer, green robe, was a silver-haired woman. She stood up when Idunn and Rhys entered. "You found him," she said, her voice a melodious tinkle. She had incredible, amethyst eyes which caressed over Rhys. They reminded him of Mirrin, with their luster, their intensity. He forced air past a sudden lump in his throat. The silver-haired beauty was slightly shorter than him and very curvy. Not really plump, her limbs were too long and graceful. Standing right in front of him, he could see her nipples harden against the fabric of her dress.

"Hello," she said, drawing his eyes to her face. "My name is Elara." She hugged him enthusiastically and placed her cheek to his. "I'm here in case your burn yourself again." Her hands travelled down his back, cupping his butt.

Idunn harrumphed. "If you keep that up, elf, he can't concentrate."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Mistress," Elara sighed, slowly stepping away from Rhys. "I wanted to make him comfortable." Her sparkling eyes went to his crotch. "I think it worked."

Rhys blushed. "Um... Hello. I'm Rhys." Again, he looked her up and down. "Forgive me for asking, but elves... aren't they tall and slender?"

"Yes, as a whole, we are," Elara said, gracefully taking her seat again and crossing her shapely legs. "Seems like my baby fat takes a few decades longer to melt away." She shrugged. "No one has complained about my curves."

"Except for you," Idunn grumbled. "Well then. Enough idle chit-chat."

With Elara around, the room seemed much less real than the already surreal tower. Rhys found his eyes darting her way time and time again, even when he tried to take in the remaining scenery. The floor of the eight-sided room was recessed towards the middle, covered with precisely carved stone plates. In the lowest part, a ten-foot double circle was inlaid into the stone, the space between the outer edges filled with runes. Rhys thought he'd seen some of them before. Around the room's walls, assorted cabinets were arrayed, some with glass tops, others solid wood.

"Now, before we begin with the spell-slinging," Idunn said, pulling a thick book from one of the cabinets, "I'd like to see how well you can read."

Rhys sighed. "I can read a little. Gran taught me with her book."

"That's a start. Read this to me then." She flipped open the book, displaying tightly packed sigils. Rhys blinked. He had never seen them before. "What is that?" he asked.

Idunn raised an eyebrow. "That's the recognized script of the Trade Tongue. You can't read it?"

He shook his head. "No. The runes I know are much more angular."

"Can you write?"

"Not really but I could probably draw some of the runes. Or I could fetch the book and show you."

"Please stay," Idunn said, producing a wax tablet from one of the drawers. A stylus was affixed to it with a long cord. "I don't want you to get lost or ...otherwise distracted." She shot a sideways glance at Elara who had sat up straight in her seat, observing the events unfolding before her with keen interest.

Rhys took the tablet and closed his eyes. The events of the past few days felt like a lifetime ago but he could vividly remember when he read "Orran In The Meadhall" to Gran. He scratched the first few runes into the tablet, making sure to add the accent lines and contraction signs. "Here, will this do?" He handed the slate off to Idunn.

The female dwarf looked at it and raised an eyebrow. "Remarkable," she murmured then walked to Elara. "Look at this."

"Oh, he's full of surprises," Elara said, eyeing Rhys with a new measure of respect. "You are among a chosen few, Rhys."

"Why? What's so special about these runes? They're in Gran's old story book." His voice trailed off when Elara began to laugh and his face fell. "Is that some kind of joke?"

Elara composed herself, mirth twinkling in her eyes. "No. I am genuinely amazed that a human is at all capable of reading these. It's the holy script of the Old Kingdoms. Few humans used it all, even fewer since the last God-King died a century ago."

"I'm confused. How do you know these?"

She smiled, like a stage magician about to perform his grandest trick. "When the Old Kingdoms were founded, humans barely knew how to write. That was a craft their elven neighbors taught them. Your Holy Script is a derivative of our own alphabet. For me, it's horribly garbled but I do recognize the roots."

"Hm. This will not do," Idunn grumbled. "Not at all." She drummed her fingers on the edge of her book then placed it back onto the shelf. "Having to wait until you can read and write is not an option."

"Are we in a hurry?" Rhys asked.

"Let's phrase it differently. Even such a bright mind as you will need a few weeks or months to fully, fluently read and write. You are basically learning a new language and in that time you will spend most of your time doing it, which leaves less time for the practical things. No, we will cheat. Just this once."

"Oh, our mighty Mistress is in an adventurous mood," Elara said, clapping.

"Don't do anything stupid while I'm away," she said, waving an admonishing finger at the elf.

"I'm devastated," she said, placing a long-fingered hand on her bosom.

Rhys looked at the tablet in wonder. He had learned an old, dead language. That's why he couldn't decipher any of the runes in the herald's book at the Tithing. He balled the fist holding the stylus, nearly snapping it.

Elara's hand brushed his cheek. "Why so angry all of a sudden? Did I say something to offend you?" He looked up, straight into her amazing eyes.

"No. You didn't do anything," he muttered. "Except remind me of my sister."

"May I ask what happened to her?"

Rhys closed his eyes, trying to conjure memories of Mirrin, memories which were not her wide, terrified eyes or her slack face. He failed miserably. "Carver's man, Faedal, took her with him at the Tithing," Rhys whispered. "When she left, she had eyes to rival yours and a temperament which would put Lishaka to shame. She was only gone two days," he sobbed.

Without a word, Elara pulled Rhys into an embrace, his head against her shoulder. He clung to her for sheer life.

"When she came back, I wasn't even sure she was the same person. Her eyes were... dead." He fought a sob, but lost. "I-... I think they raped her," Rhys choked past a huge lump in his throat. "For fuck's sake, she was only twelve!" The stylus snapped. All around the room, little things began to rattle. "And I couldn't do anything to fucking help." Rhys slumped against her, his tears bursting from him in a hot, stinging flood.

"Shhh... I know what she must have gone through," Elara whispered, caressing his hair. Rhys couldn't see it but her eyes burned with amethyst fires. "And you... you will soon learn how to wield your powers. You might not have saved her but you can at least make her torturers pay dearly."

"How?" Rhys managed past a sob. "I can't even read!"

"Now, now... don't be too harsh on yourself," Elara purred. "Life has a tendency to sort itself out. Give it a bit of time. No one, not even mighty Thurguz, was born an Archmage."

Rhys looked at her, doubt in his eyes. "You say it so easily. I feel utterly useless!"

Elara returned his stare, warmth and sympathy in her eyes. "Let me tell you something about myself." She withdrew a step and took his hand in hers, guiding him towards the bench she had sat on before. "Sit with me."

"All right." He crumpled onto the seat, misery etched all over his narrow face. The rattling had subsided but the ensuing silence wasn't much better.

Elara sank down onto the bench next to him. She used the sleeve of her robe to dab away the tears then took his hands in hers.

"My home, Ty'Dul Shantar, was destroyed by Carver's men thirty years ago."

"That's how you got here?"

"Yes. Or rather... not quite. You see, I'm a druid. Almost. When it all started, I was apprenticed to our village's Tree Singer. She could sense the approach of the human logging camps, how they came ever closer to our ancestral borders. After notifying the Speaker about the problem, it was decided that a small delegation should visit the humans and offer them trade goods and magic in exchange for stopping their logging endeavors. That delegation included the Tree Singer, a noble chosen for his knowledge of the human tongue, a handful archers and me, so I could observe and learn."

Elara cleared her throat. Her eyes had taken on a far away look. Her hands clasped Rhys' tightly. "When we arrived at the closest human camp, I was terrified. The trees around it, trees which had proudly stood for millennia, had been chopped down and turned into lumber. The eviscerated carcasses of forest animals had been tossed aside carelessly after they had been brutally skinned. Overhead, black banners flew. A snarling goat's head over crossed axes."

"Carver," Rhys growled.

"Yes. He came to greet us personally. The camp manager had notified him of our arrival. Clad in his polished black armor and gifted with a gilded tongue, he welcomed us. But the moment we were inside the palisade, his archers opened fire, taking out our escort. Only the noble, the Tree Singer and I remained, each with an arrow in our legs to keep us from running." She fell silent. "The arrows had been coated with a special dust to render our magic null and void. At least the Tree Singer and I should have been able to escape but, without our spells or shape shifting ability, we were not much more than hamstrung fawns in a wolf den."

"I am sorry," Rhys whispered, squeezing her hands. "You don't have to-"

Elara silenced him with a quick kiss. "It feels good to finally tell someone," she said, her eyes incredibly large and moist. She blinked a tear away.

"They healed the noble's leg and took him away. I only later learned they carved a message for the speaker into his back, when I found his body in the burned-out ruin of our home. They had viciously cut him and salted the wounds, turning his back into a ghastly scroll. 'Your land shall be ours' they had carved into his flesh."

"The Tree Singer was killed in front of the whole camp. They bled her dry and used her blood in some ritual. Carver himself anointed a blonde man with it, painting runes on his skin. His eyes turned from a tired green into an unfathomable black and the runes became part of his skin. It was horrible."

"Faedal."

"When Carver was done with the ritual, he gave me to this Faedal, as an offering. Up until that point, the only hands I'd ever had on me were my own. And the Tree Singer's." Elara's voice turned into a growl. "When he was done with me, I could hardly breathe. Let alone walk. Every bone in my body hurt, but not as much as my-" Unconsciously, one hand went between her thighs.

When she went on, her voice was a barely contained growl. "He decided that I should be the bearer of his seed, to bring about the birth of a Vessel of Desire, whatever that meant. He suddenly began to pamper me, lavish all kinds of gifts upon me. Imagine my horror when I realized these were things stolen from elven families caught while trying to flee Ty'Dul Shantar."