The 'Evil' Sorceress Let Me Live

Young Oliver stood at the front gates of a dark castle seeping with evil magics, warding off all who dared to trespass. The young man of nineteen was petrified, his throat tightening as his mouth went dry. He lived in a village a days horse ride away, growing up in a stable that raised horses to sell to merchants, travelling warriors, and fearless madmen in search of adventure and danger.

They rarely saw the return of their horses from those customers.

Sadly, his father was not one to spare Oliver from beatings and humiliations that no child should be put through. His father blamed him for the death of his wife, Oliver's mother. Refusing to entertain the idea she had not wanted to stay living if it meant spending any more time with him.

One day, after his farther had raped him once again, Oliver ran for the stables in search of comfort from his personal mare and friend, Soaring Wind. He would bury his face against the large creatures neck and cry away his pain, humiliation, and anger. Soaring Wind, the compassionate creature she was, gently rubs her snot against his back until he had calmed down.

Afterward, the two would ride as far away from his father as they could, often times to the nearby village, where Oliver would purchase food, trinkets, and seek aid for his abused rear. The healer would threaten to alert the local knight and have the abusing man hailed away in chains to rot in the king's dungeon. However, as he was the best horse breeder in the kingdom, their king would not have it. More then likely, it would just enrage his father and do far worst.

After leaving the healers, Oliver lead Soaring Wind to the local inn where she could get her fill of water while he searched for news about the kingdom and beyond. Inside, he greeted the innkeepers daughter who was bringing drinks to a travelling band of warriors. "Oliver! Impeccable timing! Can you follow me, please?" He blinked at the fair maiden of twenty-five before following her to the table where the travellers sat. "Here is your refills, my Lords." After passing out the drinks she gestures Oliver to join her. "And this is Oliver. The son of His Majesty's horse master." She held him tightly in a one arm hug in support, knowing why he was here. "Oliver, these men are Champions from the many neighbouring kingdoms. They have need of fresh horses and a guide."

"A guide?" Oliver asks. It was no secret Oliver knew his way around most of the kingdom, his many forays away from his father yielded an intimate insight that was utilized a few times to help local and traveller alike.

"Aye, lad. Someone to take us to our quarry, which is said to be near this village." One of the warriors, an elderly man with grey hair and a scar across his forehead, said before draining nearly all of his drink.

Oliver looks over the band then back at the innkeeper's daughter, concern on both of their faces. "What quarry could warrant so many men to slay? A dragon?" Oliver had heard tall tales of dragons from his own exploration and from mad people who claimed to have encountered one.

"Perhaps." Another of the men replied. "If the tales are to be believed. You see, our quarry is...a sorceress."

Oliver gasped along with the his server friend. "That cannot be! His Majesty rid the kingdom of all magic welders after his rule began." She explained, holding Oliver even tighter to steady her own fear. "Who would be foolish enough to remain?"

"Who indeed." Another of the warriors said. He was a larger man with darker skin with two curved blades strapped to his back. "Your King has hired us to discover this and then, destroy her before she brings ruin to all." He looks straight into Oliver's bright emerald eyes. "Young man, will you aid us in finding this fiend?"

Oliver had heard whispers of a magic user while exploring, but it had never occurred to him they would be so close to his home. Stories were his other escape from his abuses, reading tales of knights slaying dragons and wizards vanquishing sorceresses, yearning to witness such an event with his own eyes. Going would also mean he would be away from his father for days. He agreed without hesitation.

Oliver remained at the inn until the band of warriors were ready to leave. Saying farewell to the innkeeper's daughter, receiving a kiss on the cheek that made him blush, he mounted Soaring Wind and lead them to his father's stables. The elder warrior spoke with him as Oliver prepared his things for a few days journey. They finished preparations within hours and were on their way, following Oliver down the road they suspected the sorceress was rumoured to be. All throughout their preparations and departure, Oliver had not once spoke to his father.

The rest of the evening was uneventful, leading to the group setting up camp in a clearing not too far from the main road with a stream close by. Oliver was enthralled with the men's many tales of slaying creatures, defending villagers, battling gangs of rogues and had blushed when they spoke of the maidens they bedded. The young warrior who spoke of the sorceress grins at Oliver. "Tell us, Oliver. That young maiden from the inn. Have you claimed her bed yet?" His blush grew deeper, sparking laughter from the other men.

"A fine woman like that is a treasured soul. One that should not be so deflowered casually." Another spoke, grasping tightly to a trinket he wore around his neck.

"I agree." Oliver finally spoke up. "She is far too grand a lady for a common stable boy. And even if I am wrong...I fear she views me with pity filled sisterly eyes."

The dark skin man eyes him with a concern suspicion. "For what reason would she feel pity for you?" Oliver flinched. He avoided their eyes, remaining silent for a moment. The dark skinned man closed his eyes with a nod. "I see." He rose, ordered two of their band to be the first watch then walked to his roll. When he pasted Oliver, the larger man placed a hand on his shoulder. The younger man took it as a gesture of understanding and not pity.

The next day, they found her. She stuck from the shadows, killing the elder warrior. Oliver made to flee the battle with Soaring Wind when one of the men, the healer of their group dropped his beg of medicine. The contents exploded, startling the mare, making her buck Oliver off. During the chaos of the sorceress effortlessly killing the warriors, Oliver lost track of Soaring Wind, too concerned with finding her to wonder how he was still alive. Finally, he was able to hear her whinny through the noise and fallow it straight to her. His body froze upon seeing the devastating condition she was in, two of her legs where cut off by a blade as her side was riddled with arrows. The roar of a dragon fills the air; the sorceress having transformed into a great black and blue beast, setting fire to the rest of the warriors save one. As Oliver made his way to Soaring Wind, the young warrior, having watched his companions die one after another, threw down his weapons and fled, drawing the sorceress' attention. In a cowardly attempt to save himself, he ran for Oliver.

The sorceress lunged at him just as he reached Oliver, grabbing him and throwing him in her path.

Time seemed to have slowed when Oliver stared down the open jaws of a dragon. He could make out her rows of teeth with a frightening clarity along with her serpentine tongue that was extended out of her maw and within reach of Oliver. His gaze included her own eyes that rested just beyond her open jaws. In them, Oliver thought he saw surprise within them. Time resumed for Oliver, fearing he would die by dragon jaws when suddenly, quicker then he thought possible, the sorceress closed her jaws and angled her giant head away from Oliver. The young warrior was flabbergasted by the show of mercy he had tripped over Soaring Wind's severed leg, landing face first into the mares flailing attached hoof. The force of the mares flailing was enough to snap his neck, dying before his body hit the ground.

The sorceress snorted at the corpse of the man in disdain. Gazing to her side she spots Oliver on the ground, frozen in fear at her presence. She had recognized the young man the moment she laid eyes on him leading the group from the many times he had ventured close to her domain. Believing him harmless despite leading the warriors right to her, she morphed back to her human form, standing in the cover of the forest behind him. Oliver turned to see her glowing red eyes through the darkness. "Despite your role in this, I have no desire to harm you." She spoke with a soft voice that was heavy with authority and regal. "Be gone from here, Stable boy. And take heed. My mercy is not limitless." With that, her glowing eyes faded away leaving Oliver alone. Once he was able, he joined the dying Soaring Wind and stayed with her until she finally pasted, leaving him truly alone.

Hours had past. And Oliver was lost. Not directional; he knew exactly where he was and what route to take to return to the stables. What kept him in place was his struggle with a reason to return. With Soaring Wind gone, there was no way his father would let him have his own horse again. He may kill him outright or even sell him into slavery as repayment for losing her. And even the villagers wouldn't be able to save him from his father's wrath. Oliver looked away from Soaring Wind to survey the dead around him. He managed to see the man with the trinket, laying dead against a boulder with the trinket dangling from his lifeless corpse. Not far was the dark skinned man, both curved swords in hand as he was impaled to a tree by one of its thick branches, his lifeless eyes still open. Surrounded by death, the situation finally hit Oliver making him throw up what little food he had eaten the night before. "Why...didn't you kill me? Isn't this...far worse then death?" He looks up, turning his gaze around to spot the very tip of a spire, one of many that rose from the sorceress' castle. "I have nothing to live for now." Oliver stood up on shaky legs and slowly made his way to the lair of the sorceress. "I'll force you to end my life."

Standing in front of the gates to her castle, his resolve falters, keeping Oliver from entering the sorceress. domain. During his many rides across the kingdom, he had come across this castle in passing, never once giving it any mind save for wayward glance spurred on by curiosity. It was only now did he feel the enormous weight the castle's presence truly has. It was enough to make him flee...had he stood here the day before. He took a breath, reminds himself why he was here then proceeds through the gate. The instant his foot touches the ground past the gates threshold, a dark mist erupts from where his foot fell. He screams in surprise as the mist engulfs him before sinking back into the ground, a tendril of smoke closing the gate before vanishing.

Oliver tumbles around in a void of darkness, the sensation of hitting things yet there was no sign of anything else in the dark. Finally, after what felt like a day had gone by, Oliver slams into the concrete floor, the black mist dissipating. He was sore all over his body yet still tries to pick himself up. His progress his halted by a foot landing on his head and pushing him back to the floor.

"I do not recall giving you permission to rise, Stable boy." She presses down on his skull, until he grunts in pain, holding it there. "Nor have I invited you into my castle." The sorceress sat on her throne, her magic having transported Oliver right in front of it. She found pleasure putting intrusive people in their place for daring to trespass into her home. "What reason do you have to throw away the little mercy I have?"

Oliver struggles to turn his head, freeing his mouth from being pressed against the floor, the earthy taste lingering on his lips. "Your...mercy was wasted. I have no life left to live!"

"Oh?" The sorceress removes her bare foot from his skull, her wordless permission to rise. "And what lead you to this conclusion?" Oliver rose to his hands and knees, unintentionally kneeling before the sorceress, lifting his head up to finally get a clear look at her. She sat in a relaxed fashion on a throne with dark colour cushions. She wore an elegant ebony and dark blue dress that had a split, revealing her fair skin legs. She sat with the foot that was just on his head crossed over her other leg, dangling it right before his eyes. Past her foot he saw her beautiful face, her red eyes looking down at him with curiosity and dominance, framed by long locks of surprising light brown hair. He understood then why His Majesty rid the kingdom of magic welders; if someone this mesmerizing and powerful should decide to usurp the throne, nothing He commanded could stop her.

"My only escape from my father was killed in our last meeting. Without her..." He fails to keep tears from flowing, believing he had none left. "...my life is as good as forfeit. And if I am to die, then I choose to die by your hands then let that bastard I was force to call farther decide my fate!" His eyes grew hard with pain and resolve. It was a face the sorceress had seen on many a soul that had challenged her. However, the one Oliver held struck a familiar chord within her heart as he held a strong resemblance to her own when she looked into a mirror.

"Is death by my hand your only choice?" The question surprises Oliver, his resolve faltering slightly. "I will grant you the death you so choose to have. However, before I do, I will grant you time. One full passing of the seasons. I will also permit you to stay in my castle as my guest." The generosity being shown by one he thought to be evil sent Oliver's mind into a frenzy. That frenzy of questions and worry grew to anger.

"Why!?" He shouts. "Why do you torment me so? All I want is to die! Yet you continue to deny me that fate! Why, damn you?! Wh--!" Suddenly the sorceress' dangling foot shot out, slamming Oliver in the face, forcing him onto his back, hard. She applies more force then someone her size should be able to produce, causing him great pain. Fear shot through him, evident by the look of horror he held in his eye.

"Because. You do not wish to die." She eases the pressure but kept her foot on his face, gently rubbing her sole against his hairless features. While the force behind her assault was strong, he found there was no pain once she eased off, replaced with a soothing feeling that he feared was a spell. She stood over him, her red eyes gazing past her ample bust into his green ones that peek through her bare foot. "Believe me or not, but I too know what it feels to be left with not but a fate worst then death." Her features soften, making her reds appear a dark pink. "Rest. Mourn. Explore. Think. You will find no barrier or trap to impede you. Stay. Leave. End your own life. Or live it. The choice is yours." Oliver broke through whatever spell she cast to gaze into her eyes, failing to find any malice or deceit. He believes her and begins questioning why people thought her evil. "However, there is the matter of the many transgressions you have committed against me that must be settled."

"Transgressions? What do you mean?" Oliver asks, inadvertently kissing her sole.

She smiles down at him, now rubbing her foot with more force. Not enough to cause pain, but to playfully mesh his face. "Trespassing into my domain. Raising your voice to me. And finally, using such vulgar language to insult me."

"Oh... I-I understand, my Lady. Please accept my most sincerest apologies. I will submit myself to whatever punishment you deem worthy." Oliver closed his eyes, waiting for her wrath but only getting her laughter. His eyes flew open to see her hand covering her mouth as she laughs.

"My my. What a polite Stable boy you are. I think I'm going to enjoy having you around. Tell me your name."

"O-Oliver, my Lady."

"Oliver, while I appreciate you addressing me in such a courteous manner, I would have you greet me by my name, Maura."

"As you wish, Maura."

"Good boy." Oliver lightly blushes, having never been addressed in such a way before. "In regards to your punishment...a simple kiss on both of my feet should suffice."

She threw Oliver off again. He looks at Maura, near stunned. "Ah. Are...are you certain? That seems trivial compared to--."

"Should I find something harsher?" Maura said sharply, cutting him off. "Perhaps a punishment that instils gratitude is in order!"

"I beg your pardon, Maura! I am not refusing. Honest. I only...fail to grasp your reasoning."

Maura sighs heavily, sinking into her cushions. "It would appear you are much more humble then my previous intruders." Oliver tilts his head, confused. "Being made to kiss the feet of another is a humiliating act. One that most men would rather die then to yield in such a manner. You are not like most men, Oliver."

"I...cannot dispute that." He replies with a sadness.

"My meaning being, though you transgressed against me, it was not out of pride or greed. But of sadness and pain." She offers him a kind smile. "I can easily forgive you. All I require..." She lifts one of her feet to his face. "...is an act of humiliation. To show your respect for me and my home." Oliver felt a warmth wash over him, allowing him to ease his beating heart. Maura was supposed to be an evil sorceress bent on taking over the kingdom, yet she has yet to do anything evil to him. Compared to his father, Maura was an angel. He considers she had cast a spell on him or even just acting to lower his guard before unleashing true horrors upon him.

Oliver smiles up at Maura. He crawls forward until his face was hovering over her outstretched foot, placing a kiss upon it as gently as he would imagine a lover would. To him, even if she had the most horrific intentions in store for him, Oliver would always have the memory of their meeting to warm his heart through them. He lifts his lips off her foot, waiting for her to switch and position the other before him. All the while, Oliver gazed upon Maura with a smile and wonder how fortunate he was to see this side of the 'evil sorceress'. Once her other foot has still, he leans his head forward, placing another kiss atop it. Just as gently as before.

"I forgive you, Oliver. Make yourself at home." Her foot started to glow a deep blue right after he removed his lips. The black smoke from before quickly floats out to surround him once again. This time however, he did not get the sensation of violently crashing into objects. Instead, it was as if he were swimming through a warm, gentle current. Feeling much too short compared to his previous trip, Oliver found himself standing in an extravagant bedroom. The room was decorated with various shades of blue and purple with a touch of bright green. The bed was a king size with ebony drapes encircling the frame. Many dressers, a large closet and a toiletry with a bath tub off to the side.

"I've only heard my father speak of these whenever he would return from visiting the castle." Thinking about his father left a disgusting taste in his mouth. One he quickly forgot about upon seeing the balcony. Stepping out onto it, Oliver was hit by a rush of wind the likes of which he only felt while riding with Soaring Wind. He gives a remorseful sigh, the bad taste from before replaced with sweet memories of his closest friend. He scans the horizon, marvelling at the view he thought reserved only for royals and conquers. The vast ocean of trees stretching forth towards his old village, swearing he could see the roof of the inn. He leans against the railing with a smile and a sigh.

"What am I to do now? I thought my days were numbered. Yet, standing here, they seem...limitless." He stayed there, letting the wind play with his hair. His thoughts going from one thought to another, often drifting towards Maura and what, if she was at all, was planning to do with him. "She is right about one thing. I could use a good, long sleep." He leans back off of the rail and stretches before returning to the room and his apparent bed for the next full seasonal cycle. Oliver removes his dirty and still bloody clothes, depositing them into a basket set close to the toiletry then throws himself onto the bed. He was momentarily surprised when he sank into it, thinking he had broke it. But after the initial shock pasts, he felt himself relaxing and before long, sleep took him into the realm of dreams.