Nikym's Predicament

Gritting my teeth, I retraced my steps. The closest servant had stopped retching and was slowly coming back to his senses. Before he was done wiping his mouth though, I was on him, grabbing his elbow and neck. A moment later, he was out cold on the floor thanks to a quick takedown involving my knee and his forehead. The other one was still out, his face a mask of utter revulsion and terror even in unconsciousness. The final servant was rattling the cage door like a madman, howling incoherently. I hadn't been paid to cause a bloodbath, so I used a nonlethal submission hold from behind to choke him out.

On my way back to the ...thing, I tried to move the trough, but it was way too heavy for me alone.

"No need, at least for now," the small head whimpered. "It... we... are too overcome with the new taste. So, if you want something, make it quick."

I drew my sword. The blade erupted in a blue glow, like sunlight reflecting off a deep pond. "I'm here for the Mirror of Wishes. What do I have to do to get it?" Lifegiver, don't make me fight this thing, I quietly prayed.

The head made a strange noise, almost like a hiccup. But soon I recognized it, a strained giggle which turned into a screaming fit of laughter. A moment later, one of the fleshy tentacles tossed something my way. A beautiful wooden box landed at my feet, the finish instantly ruined as it skidded over the rough stone floor.

"Take it. I don't want it any more. I mean... look at me!"

"And here I was, ready to barter until the cows come home," I quipped, not believing my luck. Of course I checked the box's contents. The Mirror of Wishes was almost insultingly plain, a simple silver disc mounted to Desire's ubiquitous pair of cupped hands.

"How does it work?" I asked Gilo.

"Light a candle, make sure the light reflects off the surface. Then name your wish and speak it aloud," he wheezed. "And if you don't mind me saying this - choose your words carefully."

"What luck this isn't meant for me," I said. "Before I leave... do you want me to end your suffering?"

"You could try, but I'm not sure if you're quick enough to outwit us. No. I'm sure I won't live much longer anyway. I'll probably die from my own girth or when the cave comes down. The foundations aren't very safe."

"As you wish. Thank you."

"Don't. I should be thanking you, for taking this burden off me. I wish you could have come twenty years earlier though."

* * * *

"That should do it," the young wizard said, dusting off her hands on her robe. "The mirror is primed and ready. All you-"

"I know how to use the 'Mirror Conversation' spell," I said, waving my hand dismissively. "I just can't cast it. Thank you. Your services are no longer needed."

"Guild rules demand that I thoroughly explain-," she began. The bag of coins I tossed her way was all the persuasion she needed. Harrumphing in indignation she clutched it against her breasts and left the room. For a moment, the noises coming up from the taproom could be heard. Then she softly closed the door.

I exhaled slowly and took a sip form the excellent Dream Wine they served in this particular inn in Lordehome. Two days and about a hundred miles helped to soften the memories of the ...thing in the cellar along with the knowledge that this particular job was nearing its end. All it took now was a quick report to my client and the return trip to Storm Harbor.

Another sip, then I turned towards the mirror. The wizard had created a beautiful pattern on it using gem dust, one reason why I had to pay her by the bagful. "Ser Ethan Wildthorne, Storm Harbor," I said aloud. The Storm Lord was never far from a mirror, vain peacock that he was.

The dust flared up and vanished, causing the mirror to glow with multicolored luminescence. A moment later, Ser Ethan's face appeared. He was a handsome tzenari - half-elf - with long, silver hair converging in a sharp widow's peak. His eyes were a dark lavender color and his human blood was clearly visible in his strong jaw and broad shoulders.

Behind him, I saw a naked dark elven woman. She was brushing his hair. He reached up, touching her breast. "You may go."

The dark elf made a disappointed noise, handed him the brush and left. I heard a door click somewhere out of sight.

Ethan smiled. "Nikym. How goes the hunt?" he asked. His Elven was flawless.

"I have it," I said, indicating the scratched and splintered box on the table behind me.

"Show me."

Shrugging, I retrieved the box, opened it and turned towards Ethan.

"A magnificent piece," the half-elf breathed. "Have you ascertained its powers?"

"The wizard I hired nearly fainted when she cast her Detect Magic on it. Said it was 'at least artifact level'."

Ethan afforded me a thin-lipped smile. "I need to make sure it's the real deal. Did you get your hired spell slinger to utter a wish?"

I shook my head. "Not with what little remains of the advance. I needed to buy a Teleport scroll as well."

"Then it's on you. Use the mirror. Wish for something." His grin turned predatory. "Like a few thousand gold."

"I'd rather not. It's an artifact of Desire after all. I'd prefer not throw in my lot with her." Not after making Danetta's and Gilo's acquaintance. I shuddered at the thought of turning into something even remotely like them.

"I'll increase your pay by a third, to cover any damages this experiment might incur. Also, you don't want any unfortunate rumors about your reliability to spread, now do you?"

"It's always the carrot and stick with you, isn't it?" I made a sour face. "Fine. Pay close attention."

I fetched the candle off the night stand, placed it onto the table and lit it. Then I turned the Mirror of Wishes to face it. The surface - instead of reflecting the flame - turned into a misty oval. It seemed... expectant somehow. I cleared my throat.

"I wish for a bag containing three hundred gold pieces, minted in Lordehome."

A bag suddenly appeared and dropped onto the table with the resounding sound of solid gold coins jingling.

Ethan applauded. "I'll be expecting you when?"

"Like I said when we first met - my travel arrangements are a secret. I don't want any nasty surprises. A week at most." I swiped my hand over the mirror, disturbing the dust patterns and cutting the connection at the same time.

"Now that I have your undivided attention," a female voice said, "let us discuss payment." It came seemingly from everywhere - the mirror, my head, the air around me. I drew my blade and surveyed the room, but no one was there. All I got for my troubles was a bout of playful ghost laughter.

"Three hundred gold, as you wished," the voice purred. "In return, let me make your life a little more interesting. You are obsessed with safety, structure and having things go your way. That needs to change. From now on, for just a year, you will not be able to refuse when invited to a game of chance."

"What?" I asked, not expecting a reply. "What do you gain by that?"

Another peal of laughter. "Seeing you sweat and squirm a little should be equal payment for the wish you uttered. I've watched you deal with my disciples after all."

And as suddenly as it had come, the voice was gone. Somehow, the Mirror of Wishes had toppled onto its back, the surface no longer an ominous misty gateway. I picked it up, preparing to put it back into the box. It began to whisper and mutter at me, an incessant litany of things it could do for me if I only used it more and more.

I shook my head. "Thanks, but no thanks. One wish is plenty." The answer was a chorus of pleas, offers and suggestions, like it offering an unending winning streak whenever I chose to gamble.

Unceremoniously, I stuffed it back into the box and slammed the lid down. The mirror continued to mutter and moan. I would need to invest in some protection or the unceasing gibbering would drive me mad before I'd reach the drop-off point.

It was time to pack up and leave the Old Kingdom behind. I've had some unfortunate incidents involving clients sending henchmen after me to avoid paying my steep fees, so I preferred complicated travel arrangements with little chance of interception. My Teleport spell would bring me to Valcrest, a small town a week out from Storm Harbor, then I would use some seldom-traveled dark elven pathways to take me into the city proper and from there, I could finally deliver my parcel.

* * * *

Despite the heavy box, despite the sack woven through with splinters of Disjunction Stone, the artifact sang to me. It promised to fulfill my deepest desire - if only I kept it for myself.

"No can do," I muttered, hoisting the pack onto my other shoulder. The whispers, the fleeting images only intensified. "Do you have any idea what Ethan would do to me if I didn't deliver you?" He was a Storm Lord after all and his reach was long. I hadn't forgotten his threat. My business lived and died with my reputation. No way I'd let a gibbering mirror ruin that.

On this late November evening amidst the dark, unwelcoming mansions of Storm Harbor's Old Town neighborhood, nobody cared about the mutterings of black-cloaked people with bulging sacks on their backs. Sure, the occasional bored Watchman might throw me an odd look, but it would take some pretty gross misconduct for them to actually approach me and try something. I could easily make my way to Ser Ethan's residence and like every good hired hand, I didn't use the heavily reinforced iron gate leading into the park surrounding his lavish estate. Instead, I let myself in through a small back entrance, slipped past the stables and finally arrived at the servant's entrance. I rapped the door with the back of my riveted leather gloves. The sharp noise would rouse even the dead, but stealth wasn't my objective. I wanted to get rid of my pack first and foremost.

The door creaked open and a young elven maid looked me up and down. She wore only a frilly apron and a confused expression.

"Greetings," I said, in both our native tongue. "I am here to deliver a parcel. Is Lord Ethan present?"

She raised an eyebrow. Granted, the light was dismal and my hood hid most of my face, but even with a few decades of disuse, my diction couldn't be that bad, now could it? I sniffed. Hints of sweet smoke tickled my sensitive nostrils. The peculiar aroma of Ecstasy Ephemera, a particularly nasty dark elven pleasure drug.

"Your lord and master. Is he home?" I asked, this time in Common. Her eyes cleared up and she bowed deeply before allowing me to pass. I entered the kitchen. It was cool and dark and the cooks had already packed up and left. Lord Ethan was snacking on something other than dinner, it seemed. The maid slipped past me and made her way unsteadily through the kitchen, putting her naked back and behind on display.

"This way," she said, her words slurred almost to incomprehension. She opened a door. Warm, golden light spilled into the kitchen. We left the dark, cavernous room with its ovens and work tables behind and made our way along a corridor lit with oil lamps. The walls were hung with large paintings, most of them displaying scenes from the elven woods of old. At first glance, they were innocuous enough, but close inspection showed scenes of impressive carnal debauchery. Elf maidens and unicorns. Heroic rangers and luscious dryads, worshiping each other on hands and knees. I couldn't help but stifle a snort. No idea where the artist got his inspiration from, but in my time back home, this kind of orgy never happened. We were much too busy fighting for our lives, for the conservation of our ancient realms. And even before my time, back when things allegedly had been much better, there was always the dark elf threat. I'm rather certain none of my ancestors had the time to spare to get fucked by white horned horses. If they had, we'd probably all have horns by now.

The barely clad servant waited for me at the end of the hallway. The main hall beckoned, a room larger than the little house I had in Scholar's Rack. A large staircase swept upwards, around a beautifully realized obsidian statue of Allura the Dancer. Her naked body was flawlessly sculpted and tastefully decorated with purple, see-through sashes. This particular rendition had both ample breasts and an impressive phallus proudly pointing towards her navel. The image would have been truly marvelous had not someone draped a gaudily stitched bathrobe over it.

My guide bowed once more and moved up the stairs. The gentle note of the pleasure vapors intensified. The elf maid two steps in front and above me had to be a relatively new hire because the small whiff, which left me rather cold still, had her going wet already. Her scent was fresh and lively and together with the dark elven drug finally caused my nethers to stir. Her doe-eyed glances over her shoulder and the straps of her apron sliding down her arms, revealing more and more of her gentle cleavage, didn't help either.

Thankfully we managed to reach one of Lord Ethan Wildthorne's pleasure chambers without incident. Beyond the elaborately decorated cherry wood door I could hear several voices gasp, sigh and moan, together with the tell-tale sounds of rather passionate lovemaking. Some gurgling too. My delivery chose this moment for another assault on my mind, showing my naked body surrounded by a host of willing bodies, offering pussies, asses, mouths and cocks for my enjoyment.

It took a moment to exert my will. That blasted dark elf stink didn't help. When I was able to focus on my surroundings again, the door was open and the elven girl had dropped her apron at my feet. She was kneeling on the large, floor-covering mattress, her cute behind pointing my way and her fingers splaying her sex open for my viewing pleasure. But I was more interested in the broad-shouldered, silver-haired half-elf surrounded by a gaggle of people. A towering female half-orc knelt behind him, spearing his butt with an impressively long fake cock made from some glinting metal while a busty dark elf was before him, spread-eagled and bound to a quartet of rings protruding from the mattress. He ate her out with gusto while the muscular greenskin woman pounded his behind. Around them, tangled up in knots of twos and threes were at least two dwarf women, a halfling stud and two frankly gorgeous human females, all playing with each other. A censer stood on a table nearby, slowly burning a chunk of that strange dark elven incense. The elf maid scrabbled over the bodies until she could plant her needy snatch over the dark elf's mouth.

I sighed and dropped my pack. The floor beside the mattress was made from laminated wood, so the impact was loud and booming.

The half-elf - Ser Ethan - looked up, his nose and chin glistening with the juices of his dark elven plaything. And to my surprise, his gaze focused in an instant. Smiling, he reached for the half-orc's furiously thrusting hips and stopped her with a hand around her artificial cock. The greenskin growled in protest. Ethan planted a long, hungry kiss onto her tusked mouth and gracefully slipped from the knot on the mattress. The half-orc slid the harness off her hips and dropped into the tangle, grabbing one of the human women's head and forced it onto her sex.

Not the least bit perturbed by his sorry state of being, Ethan picked up the sack, motioned me to follow and closed the door behind us. Even sweaty and freshly fucked, he was a roguishly handsome fellow - especially considering his tainted blood - with a strong chin, expressive mouth and eyes of a dark lavender color. His exact age was unknown. My sources said he first came to prominence around a century ago. And with most tzenari his looks were deceiving. His body and face were those of a man at around twenty. Only occasionally his true age could be glimpsed in the way his eyes betrayed the things he had already seen and done.

We walked a few feet down the hallway until he pushed open another door. This room was icy cold and dark, the windows thrown wide open. Ethan lit a lamp and exhaled deeply.

"I was wondering when you'd show up, Nikym," he said, his voice surprisingly clear. He walked over to a wash basin, picked up a piece of soap and rinsed himself off.

"I was rather accurate in my prediction as to the length of this task," I said. "Less than a week has passed since the last time we spoke."

He scrubbed at his privates. "I hope you don't intend to gut me for forcing you to use the mirror. I had to be certain it was the genuine item."

I laughed. "All things considered, I got off lightly. Desire did indeed contact me after our discussion, but her price was small indeed. For one year, I can't refuse any invitation to a game of chance. No card-slingers, dice-tossers or thimbleriggers assaulted me thus far. Unless I stumble into Lucky Thirteen's for any reason, I should be safe."

"Interesting," he said. "Be so kind and hand me a towel please." He pointed to a wardrobe behind me.

I tossed him the item he had asked for. Ethan toweled himself down, then he looked at me, grinning fiendishly. "You can't refuse a gamble?"

"That's what that voice told me."

"Alright. I challenge you to a game of rock-paper-scissors." Ethan picked a loincloth from a cabinet and wound it around his waist.

I shook my head. "I'm afraid it's not working like that. I decline."

"You can? Hm. Let's make it a real gamble. If I win, you'll do as I say. If you win, you get off the hook."

I opened my mouth to refuse, but a strange power got hold of me. Despite my efforts to keep my body still, my hand came up a fist and my mouth uttered a heartfelt "You're on."

Ethan counted to three. What force had possessed me was gone and I could choose, so I went for scissors. Ethan made a fist.

I groaned. "Damn you. You win."

The naked half-elf grinned viciously. "How about a kiss?" His member stirred, raising to full mast in the span of a few breaths.

I waited for the inexorable force pushing my mouth on his, but nothing happened. I shook my head. "No."

Ethan cocked an eyebrow. "Oh? So... you can't refuse the act of gambling, but can decline when the debt is due? Interesting."

I had to agree. The curse, as annoying as it was, could be dealt with. If I didn't agree with the outcome of a game, I could always make my own luck and deal with the consequences. Unless Ethan would spread this information, I should be safe. Not many people were in the habit of dragging me into high-stakes games of chance. "But a kiss, really?" I asked him. "Didn't you have all the sex you could handle - and then some?"

"Don't be mad at me. I've seen enough curses and tricks being played on others to know how important understanding such a handicap is," the half-elf said. "Aren't you glad you know a little more about your predicament?" He put on a pair of pants and a frilly shirt.

"That's an unusual insight, coming from you," I said, nudging the box with a foot. "Speaking of 'unusual'. What does the most desired bachelor of Storm Harbor want with a Mirror of Wishes? Don't you already have everything you'd ever want?"

"I don't want nor need it. It's a present for a former betrothed's family. They decided to dissolve our engagement mere moments before the vows could be said. And Ethan Wildthorne always repays like with like." His eyes gleamed with an eerie, orange flicker. "So I will hand-deliver this present to the patriarch of Clan Thunderstroke. His daughter was more than willing to marry me and the union of both our houses would have brought prosperity unheard of before."

"What made him change his mind?"

Ethan threw me a crooked smile. "His precious daughter let slip some of the amusements we both shared. Dwarves, especially those of a traditionalist bend, don't take kindly to wild orgies before marriage, especially when half-orcs or goblins are involved. Too bad. Rubina would have been a perfect fit."