Mud and Magic Ch. 05

"A pleasure." Rhys turned his back to her. Chassari's hands on his back were very soft, a stark contrast to the hard rod she wedged between his butt cheeks. She pulled him close, lasciviously grinding against him as her hands soaped up his front.

"That's what you're after, huh?" Rhys asked, squeezing his butt cheeks together.

"Yesss. Now that you've had your first taste, I thought you'd like a living one for comparison." She angled her rod a bit, poking at his back door. Then, a surprised "Oh. Damn."

"What? Don't tell me you've just creamed all over my butt."

"No. The ssspell's duration is up," Chassari moaned, frantically humping his butt and stroking his rod. "It'sss going back in!" She sighed, hugging Rhys from behind. "And I can use it only once a day."

"I'm not sure if I could have taken you to begin with," Rhys said, blushing. "I'm pretty beat."

"But you will spend the rest of the night with me, won't you?" Chassari asked, licking his neck. "I promise I will behave."

"I'm not even sure I could make it back to my room on my own," Rhys admitted. "Now that the excitement is gone, my legs feel like they're made out of jelly and my butt... it feels all loose and weird."

"No worries. I'll tuck you in."

* * * *

An exasperated sigh woke him the next morning. Rhys forced his eyes open and saw Sen, scowling, hovering near the bed. He groped around. Chassari, gloriously naked, was next to him, one leg slung over his hip and her hand on his cock while her head rested on his chest.

"Can't we just get along?" Rhys groaned. "Chassari told me yesterday that a friendly 'sorry, not interested' was usually enough."

"And yet I always find you balls deep in someone else," Sen snarled. "One day it's Lishaka jacking you off, now I find you next to her... By now, you'll probably have done everyone. Except me."

Chassari stirred. The purple-scaled snake-woman propped herself up on one elbow and measured Sen with a long look. "That'sss enough, darling. I won't have my morning ssspoiled with petty argumentsss. Go and fetch breakfast, there'sss a dear."

"Yes, mistress," Sen snarled. She stomped out of the room, closing the door emphatically behind her.

"I haven't done anything," Rhys complained, sinking back into the pillows.

"Rejection isss a vicious sting," Chassari purred, breathing a kiss onto his lips. "I think it'sss bessst you leave before she comesss back."

"Sounds reasonable, sadly." Rhys pulled her in for another kiss, caressing down her front. "I wish we could have woken up differently."

"What, with you 'ballsss deep' in me?" Her hand closed around his rod, finding him hard and ready.

"Something like that. And I would have liked trying your other hole."

"Oh Keno-Teki, what beast have I unleashed?" Chassari sighed. "The both of usss will be here for sssome time to come. We'll find opportunities, I'm sure. Now, away with you before the furious maid returnsss."

Rhys clambered out of bed and pulled on his loincloth, robes and sandals. "Thank you once again for your thorough teachings, oh purple one," he said, bowing deeply.

Chassari, watching his every move with her hand busy between her thighs, smiled. "One last thing. When you're bedding Galdor, tell him what you like and what you don't like. He'll underssstand, reasonable dwarf that he isss. I'm sssure he won't do anything to jeopardize possible further meetingsss."

"Meetings which will include you as well, am I right?" Rhys asked. He leaned over her and kissed her one last time. Chassari's hand darted into his robe, expertly fondling his cock and balls.

"Of course," she purred. "Now, enjoy the ressst of your day."

"Will do."

Rhys left. The corridors were deserted and no sounds diverted his attention. When he arrived at his room, Yukio had already left, leaving a fresh bowl of oatmeal and a large glass of milk for him. Rhys dug in, extremely ravenous after last night's strenuous activities.

After polishing off his breakfast, Rhys bathed and shaved himself. Cleansed and wrapped in a fresh set of clothes, it dawned on him that he had most of the day left and no idea what to do. It was the first holiday he'd had in forever. On the farm, there was always something to do, especially if it was inconvenient or messy. His brothers were masters of delegation. Now there was no one forcing him to do anything.

Except myself, that is, Rhys thought. I could spend the day preparing for tomorrow, read up on what Idunn wants to teach me. Or I could practice spellcasting on my own.

He tried reading another chapter in Shilana Elbharyl's 'Combat Magick Condensed' but couldn't concentrate. Too much restless energy. So, after slogging through half a chapter, he closed the book and strapped his daggers to his belt and shin. He left his room and walked downstairs to the training chambers.

On his way there, he passed the Hall of Portraits. Remembering something Thurguz had told him before, he entered the long hallway, his gaze passing over the life-sized, naked portraits. Past Celeste's image he went, blowing the curvy, brunette cleric a kiss. Each picture had a plaque underneath, stating the name of the person depicted.

It was an impressive procession of naked bodies, painted in almost lifelike quality. Every species of the Western Continent was present, from human to elf to half-elf, halfling, half-orc and even the occasional dark elf or ratkin. Male or female, everyone was naked and brandishing some kind of magical trinket or weapon. Apart from Celeste, Rhys recognized no one, although he wondered what their stories were. When he reached the fiftieth portrait, he stopped counting. There were still so many left.

At the far end of the hallway, close to the huge double doors leading into the main auditorium, he found what he had been looking for. The first naked picture showed a pale elven woman with raven-black hair and purple eyes, leaning next to a curtained doorway. She balanced a dagger on her fingertips and her boyish curves were illuminated by a singular oil lamp. Her face was serious and a series of snake-like tattoos wound themselves around her left arm and over her shoulder, the tail ending just short of her nipple. The plaque read "Zephrya."

Past her, separated by a portrait-frame's width of naked stone, came a quartet of other pictures. The people in them were clothed and the backgrounds were similar, if not the same, some kind of inn. He recognized Idunn at once, she had barely changed between the moment her portrait had been drawn and today. Today's Idunn had more lines around her mouth and eyes -- and the fire of youthful excitement was gone as well. The Idunn in the portrait had her hair down, held out of her face with a gem-studded metal circlet. The richly embroidered robe she wore revealed a generous amount of cleavage along with an amulet on a gold chain around her neck. She waved a richly engraved wand at the observer.

The next one showed Thurguz. If the current incarnation of Thurguz was intimidating at times, pompous at others, the younger version Rhys saw was downright frightening. Clad in a breastplate with one spike-studded pauldron and hefting a grisly, serrated axe, he snarled at the observer, nearly bowling over a massive beer stein.

The third picture showed a tall, regal human Rhys had never seen before. He had long blonde hair bordering on white and a matching beard and goatee. Piercing blue eyes and a prominent hawk nose gave his face an air of arrogance. His smile was warm and honest though. He wore a blue and gold tabard with the emblem of Lordehome -- a golden crown over a parapet -- over an impressive, wide-shouldered set of armor. A simple iron band kept the hair from his face. He toasted the observer with a long-stemmed glass of wine. The plaque read "King Orran IV, born Telos Delthas."

Rhys turned towards the last picture. Another human male, clad in simple white robes. His hair gleamed like spun gold and his clean-shaven face was soft, almost feminine. The most striking feature about him was his eyes. Even in the painting, they seemed mercurial and mesmerizing. When this man laughed, the whole room would roar with him. Should he glare sternly, lesser men would cower in fear. A simple leather band held a small golden disc around his neck and there were no weapons anywhere near him. His lips were curled in a knowing smile, as if he was trying to guess the observer's innermost thoughts. Rhys looked at the plaque, curious who this charismatic stranger might be.

The plaque read "Morgan Carver."

That's him? Rhys had never seen Carver, the man, in the flesh. The person in front of him looked nothing like the vicious, merciless tyrant who had ruled over his life until very recently. When he had imagined how he might look, Rhys had always pictured an ugly, brooding hulk of a man, wearing the same black armor as his lackeys, maybe with some ghastly crown to boot. Not a handsome, charismatic individual like this. Under different circumstances, Rhys would have liked knowing this man, listen to his ideas, his visions. I wonder how he looks today? I should ask Thurguz when he has time.

Rhys heard voices coming from the stairwell, a loud and boisterous one and another, somewhat softer. Pointing a rude gesture at Carver's picture, he left the Hall of Portraits and entered the stairwell.

The voices belonged to Galdor and another dwarf. Both wore thick furs and bulging backpacks. The unknown dwarf's seemed almost larger than the man himself

"Ah, Rhys!" Galdor called. "How come my dear cousin isn't torturing you? Anything interesting happened while I was out?"

"Hello Galdor. Who's that with you? And where have you been?"

The unknown dwarf pulled back his hood, revealing a fiery explosion of red hair, whiskers and beard. "The name's Zentam ap Calgore, laddie. I'm a trader. Or sell-sword, whatever brings in tha gold."

Galdor laughed. "Remember how Lishaka blew up my room? Since we're so far off the beaten path very few traders come visit, I thought I'd do the visiting. And on my way back from Roarfell, Zentam here helped me out of a sticky situation when a gang of ice trolls decided to make dinner out of me."

"Ach, don't ye mention it," Zentam said. "Nothin' a few whacks with me axe couldn't solve."

"And I'm sure Master Thurguz would love to have a look at your merchandise," Galdor said. "Rhys, I'd love to stay and chat but, by now, my balls are colder than Desire's pussy. If you want to chat, stop by later." He patted his backpack. "And I have something just for you."

"Will do. It was a pleasure meeting you, Zentam."

"Heh. It's nice ta see a spell slinger with manners once in a while. Later, laddie."

Both men clomped up the staircase, resuming their conversation in the gravelly Dwarven tongue. Rhys caught a few bits he could understand, thanks to the Bottled Knowledge Idunn had given him. Zentam was talking about some legendary, long-forgotten dwarf hold he wanted to unearth while his friends were off, rescuing an abducted dark elven friend of theirs.

Rhys walked along the doors lining the third floor. The first room was occupied, he could hear voices and the sounds of spellcasting, the whoosh and roar of unbridled magic, then the triumphant cawing of Lishaka. Behind the next door, he heard Elara sing. Even through the thick wood, he could feel the magic pulse and throb. Whatever she was doing, it involved a massive amount of power. The noises coming from behind the third door were barely controlled screams, interspersed by dull thuds. Alarmed, Rhys pushed the door open, hand on his dagger.

Sen was in the chamber, thrashing at a straw dummy with a wooden sword and accentuating every slash, every stab with a barely coherent scream. Although he was far from a master himself, Rhys saw that her technique was severely lacking. She gave it her all, that much was obvious from her sweat-stained clothes. Some of her swings missed altogether, some hit with the flat of the blade, causing more damage to Sen than the dummy and in general, she put way too much energy into the swings, leaving herself wide open.

Rhys entered the room and closed the door, loud enough for Sen to hear. She whirled around, the sword along with her. Rhys nimbly dodged aside and Sen hit the door. The sword flew from her grasp and impaled itself in the dummy's head. Her hair was wild and loose, the face tear-streaked.

"You again?" she screeched, balling her fists. "Came to gloat, did you?"

Rhys raised his hands. "What are you on about? I only heard the noises and thought someone was in danger." He looked from Sen to the dummy and back again. "What are you doing here?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Sen stalked to one of the tables and held up a large book. On the pages, men were dueling with blades, each drawing a step in some complicated fencing maneuver. "I'm learning to fight."

"Why are you not training with Hagazz then?" Rhys walked past her and pulled the wooden sword from the dummy. Compared to his daggers, it was long and unwieldy. He swung it, applying some of the teachings Hagazz had shown him. The blade hissed through the air.

"Because he said I have no talent. Give that back!" Sen yanked the wooden sword out of Rhys' hand. "That's why I am a fucking maid in the first place. Because I can't fight, because I have as much talent for magic as a slice of bread!" She attacked the dummy again, adding another shrill scream to the blow. The wooden blade bounced off a protruding piece of the dummy's "skeleton" and flew across the room.

Rhys picked up the weapon. "Why do you want to fight so badly? You should be glad you're here, out of the way where it is safe."

"Are you fucking kidding me? After what Carver has done to me, my family and my village? Give that back!"

"Carver again? What happened?"

"What the fuck do you care? You're one of Thurguz' and Idunn's pet projects, not like me!"

Rhys gnashed his teeth. "Listen, just in case you have missed it. I don't have anything against you. On the contrary. I like you. There is no reason for you to be so bloody hostile!" He slashed at the dummy, carving a deep furrow into its straw belly. "I just don't want to lay you."

"Why not? No one else seems to mind. Do you think you're better'n me?"

Rhys nearly dropped the weapon. "Better? Heavens, no! Sen, before I came here, I was a farm boy. And not a very well-liked one at that. Nearly my whole family bullied me for all my life. I'm still not quite sure that I deserve a maid at all!" He sighed. "And when the first thing you did was try to lay me, you intimidated me."

"Yeah, right," Sen snorted. "And all the others didn't, eh? How was fucking around with Borna again? Or Hilgrun?"

"What will you prove if you fuck me?" Rhys asked, his temper rising. "That you have at least the talent to get laid by everyone? Is that something to be proud of? To be the tower's greatest slut?" He accentuated the last word by a vicious strike at the dummy's head. The loud slap of wood on wood caused Sen to close her mouth. She inhaled, visibly shaken. Rhys tossed her the sword. "I've been told -- for the last eighteen years mind you -- that I'm a good-for-nothing, useless piece of shit."

"Well, now you have your fancy magic. Whoop-dee-do. And don't try to pity me."

"I am not pitying you, for fuck's sake!" Exasperated, Rhys threw up his hands. "I am merely trying to understand you. Is that a crime nowadays?"

"Well, if you want to know what happened -- our village was raided, the men killed outright, me and my mother were raped along with every other female and some of the cuter boys and when they tired of the older ones, Carver's men used them for sport. 'Elf hunting.'" She stabbed the sword at the dummy. "I was lucky. I could squeeze through the bars of the cage they held the children in. Then I ran like hell, hiding in the woods until Thurguz found me."

"That's... impressive. How long ago was that?"

"Four years. Been here ever since. Not that it amounted to much. They nursed me back to health and tried to find out what I could do. I told them I wanted to kill as many of Carver's swine as I could. But nothing I tried was good enough. And now I'm maid to the other students." Another slash at the dummy. The blade flew from her hand. "Fucking them helps to get my mind off my own miserable existence. I should be out there, killing the blighters who destroyed my life!" Sen crumpled to the floor, crying bitterly.

Rhys knelt down next to her. "I know you don't want any of this but my Gran always said 'Don't complain about what you don't have, enjoy what you have.' What are you good at?"

Sen wiped her eyes on his sleeve, a weak grin on her lips. "You gotta be joking."

"No, I'm dead serious here. What are you good at?"

Sen pulled her legs under herself. "Well, I can handle the needs of several students at once. I wash, clean, cook, fix clothing and sometimes even furniture. I am constantly moving, running up and down these blasted stairs. Why Thurguz has moved the training room to the second floor but not the kitchen to the fourth escapes me. It would make mine and Yukio's job so much easier!"

Rhys rose. "Wait here a moment."

"I'm not going anywhere, not looking like this," Sen snarled. "By now, Idunn's lesson should be over. She's the last person I want to see me like this." She looked at him. "What-"

"Just wait. I'll be back in a moment." Rhys left the room and dashed down one floor. Hilgrun and Borna passed him, the tall barbarian limping.

"Hello," Rhys said. "Did Hagazz...?"

"Nah. Should have taken the day off, like Thurguz had suggested." Hilgrun gently touched her stomach. "The wound opened again."

"No one said you'd have to do backflips," Borna rasped. "Now I can't demand the prize for beating you until you're healed."

"I think Elara is still in a training room, second door from the staircase going up," Rhys said. "She'll patch you up."

"Thanks, Rhys." Hilgrun clapped his shoulder, limping onwards. Borna looked him up and down then followed the barbarian woman.

Rhys entered the arena. Hagazz had been laid out on the floor, a vicious bruise on his temple.

"Are you all right, Master?" Rhys asked him.

"Have they left? My ears are still ringing from the ass-kicking they gave me."

"It's just the two of us."

"Good." Hagazz slowly sat up and eyed Rhys. "What are you doing here anyway? Didn't Thurguz order you to have a day off? I know Hilgrun doesn't give a damn in that regard, but you-?"

Rhys picked up four training daggers. "I'd like to borrow these. Is that all right?"

"As long as you don't go around stabbing someone with them..."

"If I wanted that, I'd use my own." He patted his belt dagger.

"Sure, knock yourself out then. And while I have you here, let me show you something." Hagazz walked to one of the walls and pulled a weapon off its hooks. It was a long, metal-shod staff, about a head taller than Rhys was. "We'll expand your repertoire so you don't have to go into choking distance with your enemies all the time."

"Don't tell me I have to lug that thing around at all times from now on."

"I was about to. Just watch." Hagazz touched a spot near the staff's midpoint. The weapon collapsed in on itself until it was no longer than two fists put end to end. He tossed it to Rhys who caught it.

"Nifty."

"Just don't rub your Disjunction Stone against it."

"It won't grow back to full size otherwise?"

"No, the stone will suppress the shrinking magic. Quite abruptly. I have seen people knock themselves out at the best of times."

"I'll be careful." Rhys used a loop on his belt to tie down the shrunken staff.

"Good. See you the day after tomorrow then. Idunn is chomping at the bit to get her delicate hands on you. I'm terribly jealous."