Sex Wizards - Initiation Ch. 07-08

Author's Note: This is a weird time in the story to be changing categories! These two chapters probably won't make a lot of sense unless you've read chapters 1-6 that were posted in the BDSM category. Apologies - I'm still figuring Literotica out. I realize I probably should have been posting this story here the whole time, as it's basically medieval flavored Harry Potter with 100% more sex and 100% less transphobia. Anyway, enjoy!

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"How long did the wolf stick around for?" Galiva asks over dinner that evening.

"Awhile, I think," I say. "She followed me back to my room. Curled up on the foot of my bed and fell asleep. I took a pretty long nap, but by the time I woke up, she was gone."

Galiva beams at me. "That's great, Dom!" she says, and I can hear the pride in her voice. "It took me weeks to find my familiar."

I flush a little at the praise and look down at my cup. "Arlon did all the work - I just finished it," I say.

Galiva snorts. "No doubt he put you through it, but by the very nature of conjuration, you did the work," she teases. "How's it feel to have survived your first week?"

I take a sip of water from my cup to hide my grin. I'm still sitting tender thanks to Arlon, but even now, I shiver thinking back to this morning. "It feels like I should have been doing this years ago," I say. While I was guiding, I was just existing. Working to build enough resources to get through yet another winter and nothing more. "It's strange, I feel... sharper, somehow. Like I've been asleep and I'm just now waking up."

Galiva smiles at that. "The Crux has a way of doing that. I noticed it when I came here, too," she says. "Do you miss the Hobokins?"

I sigh and lean back in my chair, pushing my empty plate away from me. I wouldn't mind another helping of the leafy greens and fish the cooks prepared, but I don't want to be greedy. I'm still getting used to this whole three-meals-a-day thing. "Not the woods specifically. I miss the quiet though," I say. "And I miss hunting."

Galiva glances at my bad arm. "Olbric's a dirty gossip. He told me how you broke it," she says and rests her chin on her hand. "Ironic that your familiar is a wolf."

I snort. "Not just a wolf - the wolf. The damn thing looks just like it."

Galiva hums thoughtfully. "You know, some theorize that familiars aren't so much straight conjuration as they are a summoning," she says. "Maybe this is your wolf coming back to thank you."

"Thank me?" I repeat. "I killed it."

"But it was rabid, wasn't it?" Galiva asks. "That's not a kind disease. And there's no curing it. Did you know a rabid animal can't drink? It's why they salivate so much. It would have been confused and in pain. Imagine if you were separated from your pack in such a state? I think you did it a mercy."

Words fail me. I find the three charges of the conjuration on my ever-growing necklace and can swear I see a golden eye looking back at me from inside the little marble. "Maybe you're right," I say at last.

Galiva gives me an appraising look, and I can see something working behind her eyes. I take another sip of water from my cup and wait for it to come out. Finally, she says, "How would you like to be able to shoot a bow again?"

My hand goes to my bad arm, rubbing the knot of twisted muscles. I'm sure I look like a deer. All wide-eyed surprise. "I'd like that," I say, which is the understatement of the year. I'd been terrified to leave my da's cabin in the Hobokins without a means to protect myself. Looking back, that's part of why it took me so long to do it. I had to muster up the courage.

Now it's Galiva's turn to look uncomfortable. "I have my mastery in corpimancy," she says. "But for an old injury like that, I would have to cast the spell directly on you."

"So what? I've pretty much done nothing but conduit since coming here," I say.

Galiva winces and says, "Yeah, well, there's a reason that there are only three corpimancers in the towers right now - including Arlon. It's... not easy to be a conduit for. It pushes endurance in a way that even evocation can't compare."

At the beginning of last week, I might have jumped in without question, but I've learned a lot in the time I've been here. "What kind of endurance?"

"Pain. Among other things," she says.

"Right." I fall quiet as I think about it. At worst, I won't be able to hack it and the spell will fail. At best? I might be able to shoot again. "I can always stop, right?"

"Always," Galiva promises.

I steel myself and let out a sigh. "Alright," I say and give a lopsided grin. "C'mon and hurt me, Gal."

#

The corpimancy tower is small. It's only three stories instead of five or six of the others. As we walk up the dimly lit stairs to the second floor, I notice that it feels different than the other towers I've visited, too. Calm and subdued, like there's an extra weight in the air. Even in the evenings, the towers are usually occupied, but we're alone as we head down the hall. It's a little eerie.

Galiva opens the door to a casting room and ushers me inside. Just like the rest of the tower, there's not much in here. Other than a wooden table and a cold fireplace, it's empty. Not even a cabinet.

When Galiva touches one of the globes set into the wall, the room brightens to a warm glow. A pack is slung over her shoulder, and as she sets it down, I hear the slosh of liquid. She takes off her robe and rolls up her sleeves.

"Go ahead and take your shirt off. Get comfortable," she says and waves me towards the table.

I do as I'm told and tug my shirt up before hopping onto the table. On second thought, I snatch my shirt and bunch it up to use as a pillow. I'm not sure how comfortable you can get on a bare wooden slab, but I do my best.

I crane my neck and look over as Galiva unpacks a jug of liquid, a clean cloth, and a neat little leather case. I'm nervous, but I try not to let it show as she carries the stuff over and sets it on the table beside me. "We can do this one of two ways," she says. "I can leave you free during the spell and trust you to stay still, or I can strap your arm down."

A nervous laugh bubbles out of my throat. "Fuck, Galiva, way to romance me." I look at the leather case and say, "Maybe strap it down."

Galiva kisses my cheek, and I feel a leather strap slide up through a slit in the wood that I hadn't noticed. She gently rubs the muscles in my bad arm. When she finds the atrophied knot, I hiss as the spot twinges under her fingers. She lays my arm down before tightening the belt just below my elbow.

"Some spells don't necessarily need the energy of sexual release to be successful. With corpimancy, the energy created from the casting itself is usually enough to finish a spell." She gives a wry grin and ads, "Not to mention, I doubt you'll be able to get it up unless you're a particular brand of pervert."

That startles a genuine laugh out of me. "And are you that particular brand of pervert?" I ask.

Galiva winks and says, "I got my mastery in corpimancy, didn't I?" She flips open the leather case and reveals rows of sharp little needles. They're about as long and thick as a small porcupine quill, made of polished metal with tips that look sharp enough to pierce flesh. All in all, there are about 20 of them in the case.

I stare up at her, and my fear must be evident. "We don't have to do this," she says. There's sympathy in her voice and maybe a tinge of regret. Does she feel bad for even mentioning it? For dangling the possibility in front of me?

I draw in a steadying breath, trying to stamp the fear down. "What exactly are you going to do with them?" I ask.

Galiva takes the fingers of my bound hand and slides a focus down each one like a ring. "I'm going to use them to pierce the skin on your arm," she says. "I'll arrange them in a particular way to draw the energy to the poorly healed area. Whatever excess there is will go into the focuses. If I do it right, I'll be able to use the spell to heal fresh breaks."

I let out a long sigh and clench my eyes shut. It will hurt. I know it will hurt, and yet I'm considering it anyway. Galiva's fingers are gentle as they stroke through my hair, waiting for my answer. "Fucking hell. I won't know how bad it is until I try it, right?"

Galiva chuckles and says, "That's one way to think of it."

"How do you think of it?"

Her answer surprises me. "It's euphoric," she says at last. "It hurts, sure, but that gets drowned out after the first few needles. It's like going into conspace but even more pronounced. It's... a very different kind of bliss from other types of casting."

"You make it sound kind of nice," I say.

"And for some of us, it is," she says. "Too many are so turned off by the idea of it that they don't even try. I think there's a lot of good that can come from corpimancy, but fear keeps people away."

I draw in a few steadying breaths, like I'm about to go into the silver. It helps calm me down a little bit. Helps me be certain. "Alright," I say at last. "Let's do it."

Galiva kisses my cheek before she takes up the cloth. She soaks it with the contents of the jug, and I get a whiff of the heady scent of alcohol. She cleans my arm thoroughly, her hands firm but gentle, and the liquid cools as it evaporates against my skin. Galiva uses the rag and alcohol to clean her own hands before she picks up the first needle. I have to close my eyes, then.

Her fingers pinch a piece of skin on my arm and she asks, "Do you want me to tell you when I'm doing it, or do you want me to surprise you?"

I swear under my breath. I'm not sure which will be better or worse. But if I know, I'll brace against it. If it's anything like the silver, it will only make adjusting harder. "Surprise me," I say.

I can almost hear Galiva's smile. "As you wish," she says. There's a weighted pause, a breath of anticipation. I grit my teeth, and a second later, I feel the needle pierce through my skin in one smooth, surprisingly fast movement. I let out a shuddering breath as the pain follows swiftly on its tail, sharp and hot, before settling to a throb.

"First one done," Galiva says. "Are you alright?"

I nod even as Galiva pinches another fold of skin between her fingers. "So far," I say.

"Good," Galiva says and without pause, the next one slides through me. My shout of pain is trapped behind clenched teeth. It's like the initial sting of a wasp with none of the poison after. A jolt of adrenaline followed by a strange, foreign throb. Another follows shortly after, but I'm ready for it this time. The pain isn't as much a surprise as it is an inevitability and I let out a low moan.

With each new needle, the initial sting becomes less noticeable. No, that's not right - it's always noticeable, but the part of me that's supposed to translate it to pain stops working right. When Galiva puts another in just above my elbow, I gasp and arch off of the table a little. It's not pleasure - not exactly, but it's just close enough.

"Still good?" Galiva asks and there's a calm serenity in her voice. It reflects the tranquil feel of the tower like a mirror.

"Yes," I whisper. "How many more?"

A moment's pause. "Twelve," she says. "Though you're already starting to charge the focuses."

I give a short, wavering laugh. "Oh, good."

Galiva chuckles and catches me off guard with another needle. My eyes shoot open in surprise. I blink and realize my vision has gone a little fuzzy, like looking through shallow water. Galiva looks down at me, a smile on her face.

"Do you want to watch?" she asks.

I swear and try to imagine it, but even the thought makes me queasy. "Nope, not ready for that yet," I say, voice tight.

Galiva laughs and kisses my cheek again. "You're doing wonderful," she says before easing yet another needle through me.

It's almost like falling into a trance, though very different from the silver. Different even than the conspace I experienced with Olbric. I'm still definitely grounded to reality here, but there's a weightlessness all the same. It's not the same as evocation, where you temper the pain with pleasure. Here, I have to find pleasure in the pain itself. I feel a sort of giddy relief that my body can not only withstand the pain, but relish it.

Galiva is calm and gentle, completely at odds with what she's doing to me. Another needle slides penetrates me, and I let out a shuddering sigh of not-quite-pleasure.

"It's strange, isn't it?" Galiva says and it sounds like she's talking to me from far away. "Corpimancy is the magic of the body, and you learn so much about your own while doing it." Another needle slides in, and my whole arm feels as if it has a warm weight pressed against it. The atrophied muscles underneath the needles shiver. I feel the ripples all the way in my bones, from my shoulder to the tips of my fingers.

I've lost count, but I feel like we have to be getting to the end of her supplies. Yet another needle slides in and as it does, something in my arm shifts. By all logic, it should hurt. I shout like it does and for a second, I remember what it had felt like when I broke it. That sickening crack, the pain that had wiped every other thought from my mind.

But it doesn't hurt. It's all heat and pressure, as if Galiva's turned my bones to warm clay to be molded. I feel the ache of the twisted muscles straighten out, the lay of my arm relax. I let out a long breath.

"There we go," Galiva says, and I hear her smile in her voice.

For a second, I just lay there, not sure how to react. I'm floating about half an inch outside of my body when I feel Galiva's hand on my cheek. I come back to myself and blink up at her, taking a moment to get her into focus. She's beaming, and I can't help but return it.

"That's it?" I ask.

Galiva laughs, mirroring my own giddiness. "That's it," she says. She unclasps the belt and grabs my hand. "Squeeze. Move it gently. Tell me if anything feels off."

Her hand is warm, her grip gentle. I do as asked, and for the first time in over a year, there's no pain. No resistance. "It feels great," I say in awe. I hadn't realized how bad it had hurt, how constant the ache was that I became conditioned to it. Without that pain, my entire right side feels like it's back in balance. I slowly sit up, my head swimming in a way that's not entirely unwelcome.

"Easy," Galiva says. "You still have twenty needles in your arm."

"Oh," I say faintly and look down at the glowing focuses around my fingers. I glance at my arm - it can't hurt now that the needles are in, can it? I blink and see the neat, even rows of silver. They're in four straight lines down the side of my arm. I'm shocked that other than a couple small drops, there's very little blood.

"The line was crooked when I started," Galiva says. "As soon as I saw them shift, I knew we'd done it."

I blink and look away from my arm. "You did it, you mean."

Galiva cups my face and said, "You had the courage to let me try." She gently eases me back onto the table. "Let me get these out of you."

I lay back and close my eyes. "Thank you, Galiva."

###

I have explicit instructions to go easy for the next few days. Galiva cleaned my arm and bandaged it tightly before telling me to find her if any of the needle marks weren't healing right. An inherent risk with corpimancy, she explained.

So I do as I'm told. I stick to my room or the common areas, doing nothing but reading and taking notes. Fortunately, the little wounds heal without issue. By the afternoon of the third day, I take the bandages off and don't even see scars where the little holes had been.

I find my unstrung bow in the little closet of my room. It's traveled with me all the way from Airedale - a silly thing to do when I couldn't draw it. Couldn't even string it. I rationalized it by saying that I'd sell it if I had to, but I'm glad it never came to that. I don't think I would have had the heart to get rid of it. It had belonged to my da, and it's the only thing I have left of my old life.

It rests in my hand like an old friend. Polished yew with a well-worn leather grip. I find my oiled bowstrings tucked away in the bottom of my stored travel pack. I check it to be sure it's in good shape before I loop it over the bottom notch and take a breath, nerves settling in my gut.

When I couldn't string the thing is when I knew I had to leave Airedale. I had spent hours trying every angle and method I knew to try and get the string into the goddamn top notch, but with my badly healed arm, I just didn't have the strength to do it. It had been the lowest time I can remember. I couldn't hunt, couldn't provide for myself, couldn't fend for myself.

Now, I fold my leg around the arms and set the bottom carefully against my foot. I grab the top with my newly healed arm and bend it, sliding the string over the top notch. I make sure it's set before I release it with a sigh. The bow rests taught in my hand, and I can't stop an amazed laugh. It's as easy as I remember it being before the accident. One quick, smooth motion instead of a losing fight.

With growing excitement, I grab my quiver and bow and head outside. The evocation yard isn't being used, but I go through the gates and cross the little bridge over the mote to get trees beyond so I'm not in anyone's way. I set up a crude target on the trunk of a tree, and step back twenty paces.

Moment of truth now.

I nock an arrow, take the string between my fingers and draw it back to my ear. My heart soars. There's no jolting pain. No numbness. I'm a little shaky, but that's got to be from being a year out of practice.

I take a breath, narrow my sight in, and loose.

The arrow flies true and slams into the trunk of the tree, dead center. I can't stop a whoop of triumph. It's hard to believe. Galiva's done an impossibility, and yet the proof of it is right in front of me. I've done my part to make spells, even release a couple of them, but it's only now it really sinks in. The Crux is making magic.

I shoot until the sun starts to set. My arm is sore, and I've probably pushed it further than Galiva would have wanted, but it feels good to work the dis-used muscles. I walk forward and grab my last round of arrows from the hole-riddled tree trunk before storing them back in my quiver. I turn to head back in but start when I realize I'm not alone.

Olbric sits cross-legged with a pile of torn up grass in front of him. Judging by the size of his pile, he's been there for some time. I'd been so lost in the simple pleasure of target practice, I hadn't even noticed him.

"You're good," he says and unfolds his long legs to stand.

"I'm rusty."

"You call that rusty?" Olbric points to the tree. There are very few errant holes. Most are centered right near the middle. I shrug even as my ears get hot. "I'm glad Galiva was able to help. I hope you're not mad that I told her."

It's only then realize that he's nervous. He hasn't met my eyes yet, and I can't help but admit that he makes a pretty, demure little picture. I grin and shoulder my bow. "Oh, I'm furious," I say. "How dare you share my best tavern story? I'm sure you didn't even tell it right."

That startles a laugh out of him, and as soon as he looks up, I catch his lips in a kiss. It's gentler than I meant and lingers longer than I expected. When we finally part, I'm flushed and a little breathless.

"Thank you," I say. "Seriously, thank you. You and Galiva gave me back something I never thought I'd have again."

Olbric's arms snake around my waist to hold me there. "You're welcome."

He has that look to him again. The same one he had when I took him drunk and stumbling to his room. Like he's trying to find something in my face. But this time, it seems as if he's found it.