The Sequacious Maiden and the Crafty Wizard Ch. 01

[A note to the reader: this story is less erotica and more fantasy with erotic themes. If you're looking for something quick and dirty, I'm sorry to disappoint. If, on the other hand, you desire a story with plot and character development, this might be the thing for you.

I posted this story reluctantly and without the benefit of an editor, having lost all faith in the editor selection process on the site. If you're interested in editing future chapters of this story and you're female, please send me an IM.

As always, comments and criticisms are welcome.

~the stumblebum]

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In a quiet corner of the realm of Aryven, far from the bustle of the port cities or the intrigue of the capital, lies the sleepy village of Patrin's Hollow. The summers are warm and pleasant, the winters just cold enough to make one relish spring. The soil is good, the spring water clear and cold, and the local monks brew an ale that would make even the most cynical Erijs merchant sigh with pleasure. It is a comfortable, ordinary sort of place where even strangers are made to feel right at home.

One thing, and one thing only, makes this quite little hamlet stand out from all the other quite little hamlets that dot that pleasant countryside. Her name is Tess Keeve.

Tess is the most beautiful girl in all of Aryven, some would say maybe, just maybe, the entire world. She is tall, like her mother was, and has hair the color of summer wheat but eyes like a fall sunset. Despite many a harvest in the fields with her father, her skin is fair with only a light dusting of freckles on her nose and cheeks. Her limbs are strong and lithe, her face flawless as spring rain, her smile radiant, her laugh rich and clear. Yet none of this is what makes Tess truly beautiful; her beauty radiates from a heart innocent and pure, free of guile and full of love.

It's no secret that Tess is the apple of every boy's eye in town. Even the local lord, when he first set eyes upon her, got down off his horse and asked her father for her hand. Yet never did Tess allow any of this attention to go to her head; conceit never found purchase in her heart. When wronged, she always gave the benefit of the doubt, and whenever anyone in town was in need, Tess was always there, providing what help she could to her neighbors.

Tess had a happy and satisfying life. She enjoyed working on her father's farm, singing with her sisters and cooking full course meals in the kitchen like her grandmother once did. She longed for the day when she would have a family of her own, when the pitter-patter of bare feet would greet her in the morning, and she secretly hoped that before summer was out, the blacksmith's son would finally work up the courage to propose. Yes, life was good.

That is, until her father Conrad fell ill. It was the start of her nineteenth spring. Now Tess knew how to cook up a good chicken soup to cure the cold, but this was no ordinary sickness. After the first week, she went to see Lora, the village matriarch. There wasn't much old Lora didn't know about curing things that ailed folks, but try as she might, Lora could do no better than Tess with the tenacious illness. In fact, it got worse. By the second week, her father's fever was such that he could hardly get out of bed, and any fluids she got in him came right back up. Tess hardly slept at all, fraught with worry that she would lose her beloved father. Her next recourse was Father Ennar. For three nights he prayed for Conrad, convinced a demon most foul had smitten him. He lined the windows with garlic and circled the bed with salt and prayed until he collapsed on the floor and could only be revived with a pint of ale. But her father's condition did not improve. When Father Ennar left the house, forlorn and defeated, Tess wasted no time in searching out Greta, the local hedge witch who lived in the forest just south of town. She was expensive to employ for healings, but she knew magic, which made her quite the scandal but good for healing things that couldn't be treated by conventional means. Greta came and took down all the garlic and swept up all the salt. Then she filled the house with incense that smelled of lavender and elderberry and cast spells for the curing of body and soul. Yet, as before, Tess' father didn't get better, but grew worse, slipping into a delirious sleep from which he did not wake. Greta left in the same manner as Father Ennar: forlorn and defeated, certain magic was the culprit yet unable to thwart the malevolent sickness.

As Greta left, Tess collapsed into a heap on the steps and sobbed into her apron. Exhausted from weeks with little sleep, overcome with feelings of powerlessness, Tess wept the entire night. In the morning, however, as she doled out porridge to her sisters and tried in vain to put on a courageous face, Tess remembered the one, final recourse left to her. His name was Arimus.

Arimus is the village wizard. Arimus came from the north, showing up one winter morning with the deed to small, long vacant manor just outside town. Once a month, Arimus comes to the village, buys what things he needs, and leaves. Rumors fly of course. Arimus is a battlemage, fleeing the chaos of the north, or perhaps a necromancer, raising the dead and practicing vile experiments in the manor basement. But upon one thing the rumors agree: Arimus is a wizard most powerful. Tess had seen him only once before, watching her from afar has she made her way home from the market.

So, filled with trepidation, Tess left in the morning to seek audience with the wizard, desperate for someone to rescue her father from his terrible wasting sickness. She put on her finest dress, made her hair, her makeup, and polished her shoes before leaving. The walk to the manor seemed to take an eternity. The townsfolk must have sensed her destination for no one approached her as she went; only they stopped and stared, almost as if she were one condemned.

She stood in front of the ill-kept estate for a long time, too afraid to enter. The ivy-covered stone building did not at all look inviting. Offering a quick prayer to the Mother, she opened the wrought iron fence. Gravel crunched under her shoes as she walked the path to the large oak door. She wrapped the iron knocker three times until finally it opened with a creak. When it did, Tess screamed.

Standing in front of her, dressed in butler's attire, was a goblin. Tess had never seen a goblin before, but she had no doubt that was what the creature was. He had skin the color of thick mud, yellow eyes, a round stomach that poked out over his cummerbund, and hairy, dangly arms that would have hung down past his knees if he weren't carrying a pitcher with one and holding the door with the other.

"May I help you, madam?" he asked in a disinterested tone.

"Um...yes," she replied, "I'd like to speak with Master Arimus."

The goblin raised a woolly eyebrow. "Does the lady have an appointment with the Master?"

"No," she admitted.

"Master Arimus is not taking visitors, good day." He turned to shut the door.

Without thinking, Tess stuck her foot in the door and then let out a little yelp when the heavy oak door made contact. "Please!" she said, trying to ignore the throbbing of a newly acquired bruise, "it's a matter of life and death! I positively must speak with Master Arimus."

The goblin let out a sound that might have been a growl, or it might have been a chuckle, Tess wasn't quite sure. But before he could extract the trespassing foot and shut the door, she heard a man's voice from deep inside the manor. "Calohidh, see the young woman to the sitting room and offer her refreshment. I shall attend her shortly."

This time, Calohidh let out a noise that was most definitely more growl than chuckle, but he held the door open long enough for Tess to slip inside before shutting it with an ominous boom. Tess' heart caught in her throat; it was too late to turn back now. Calohidh led her to a small sitting room, which looked out upon a garden that had long since been lost to weeds and creeping vines. She glanced around at the oddities on the shelves along the wall, but quickly thought the better of it when her gaze settled upon something that looked like a mummified fairy and spent the next several minutes staring at her hands. After what seemed an eternity, Arimus entered.

He was a tall, slimly built man with black hair and a neatly trimmed beard that followed the line of his jaw to a clipped point on his chin. He appeared to be about thirty, but Tess knew that it was impossible to gauge the age of a wizard solely on looks; they used magic to greatly extend their natural age. He was dressed in a casual manor that didn't seem at all wizardly, and as he entered, flashed a smile that did nothing to set her mind at ease.

"Good morning," he said as he took a seat opposite her, "I am Arimus. I don't believe I've had the pleasure of making your acquaintance."

"My name is Tess, Tess Keeve. I'm Conrad's daughter. We own a farm on the far end of town."

He extended a pale hand, "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Tess. I rarely have time for visitors these days." Reluctantly, she took the offered hand, afraid he might cast some spell upon her. "How is it that I can assist you?"

"You see, my father has fallen gravely ill. I've tried everyone else, but no one can cure him of his sickness. I've come to you only as a last resort, because I know you are a man who does not wish to be disturbed. Please, if there is anything you can do, I would be in your debt."

The man crossed his leg and absently stroked his beard. His beady black eyes held her gaze, peering, she felt, into her soul. "If your father is as ill as you say, young lady, it is wise that you sought my aid. I am quite adept at the curing of ailments both magical and mundane."

For the first time in weeks, Tess felt a small glimmer of hope. "Oh, that is wonderful! Would you be willing to perform a cure, Master Arimus?"

He flashed a viperous grin. "I would be delighted, my dear, anything to assist a fellow citizen of this fair borough." He paused, as if savoring the radiance of her new found hope. "There is the matter of payment."

Tess nodded eagerly, "We are humble people, but honest, Master Arimus. Please, name your price; I'm sure we can find the means to pay."

"I'm well aware that the good people of Patrin's Hollow are not as affluent as those of the larger cities, so I shall be glad to perform my service for the absolute lowest price: One-hundred and fifty."

A cough caught in Tess's throat, but she did her best to conceal her shock. "I see. Well, I don't have that much on hand, Master Arimus, but if you are willing to wait until the summer harvest, I'm confident that we can cover one-hundred and fifty eagles."

A slight frown crossed the wizard's face. "My lady misunderstands. I meant one-hundred and fifty gold crowns. True wizard work, not this business of hedge-wizardry, is very expensive, my dear. The cost in reagents alone for such a cure may exceed that amount. I'm terribly sorry if I confused you."

Tess felt her face drain of color. The entire farm and everything in it was not worth a quarter that much. There wasn't anything in the entire town worth even a hundred crowns. Tears welled in her eyes, threatening to burst like a damn across her cheeks. Relief had been so close, and now it was slipping between her fingers like sand. She stood, dabbing at the corners of her eyes with her kerchief. "There is no way I pay such a fee. I apologize for wasting your time, master wizard." She bowed quickly, and made her exit. Arimus did not stir as she left.

He allowed her to reach the door before he spoke. "I could be convinced to waive the fee and perform my services free of charge...if you would be willing to do something for me in exchange."

The wizard's words hung in the air like early morning fog. Fear and doubt, mixed with hope, stirred in her belly. She turned and looked at the wizard. "What would you have me do, Master Arimus?" she asked, her voice hardly a whisper.

He motioned her back to the chair, and took a long sip of his tea, content to hold her captive with his concupiscent gaze. "In exchange for healing your father, you will allow me to cast a single spell upon your person."

Tess knew at that moment that she should turn and flee. She knew with every fiber of her reason that her life would never be the same if she agreed to the wizard's demand. Yet, her father's life hung in balance. She felt like a fawn in a huntsman's trap. If she refused, her father would surely die, but heavens forbid she agree. "What kind of a spell?" she asked.

"I think the question you should ask, my dear, is how badly you want your father to recover."

Without another thought, Tess swallowed hard and held out her hand. "I'll do anything. Please, just cure my father."

He took her hand in his own with a firm grip. "We have an agreement, then, Miss Keeve. In exchange for the healing of your father from his grievous sickness, you shall allow me to cast a single spell upon your person." With that, he stood. "Please allow me to gather my things, and we shall go at once."

Tess left the house, walking alongside Arimus. Her head was such a flurry she hardly noticed the stares, the mouths agape, the whispers from behind nearly shuttered windows. At the farm, her younger sister Margaret fled with a screech at the sight of the wizard and her middle sister made signs across her chest for protection. Tess quickly led Arimus to her father's side, afraid that he too, would fail, and at the same time afraid he would succeed.

The wizard wrinkled his nose at the heavy stench of sickness, carefully poking and prodding at the unconscious man here and there with a well-manicured finger. He then turned his gaze to Tess. "Close the door on your way out, my dear. See that I am not disturbed for any reason whatever."

She nodded and quickly made her exit.

An hour passed before Arimus emerged from the room, his brow creased from concentration and slick with sweat. He looked as if he'd been awake for days. "It is done, my lady. When he wakes tomorrow he will be hungry. See that he gets all that he can eat. But make sure that under no circumstance is he to have ale, wine, or strong drink of any sort until the passing of seven full days. Do you understand?"

"Yes my lord," she replied. "He is well, then?"

"Yes, yes, of course," he said with a dismissive wave. "It will take three days for me to make preparations. You will return to my estate on the afternoon of the third day to fulfill your part of the agreement. Eat nothing the night or day before you come. Is that clear, Miss Tess?"

"Yes, Master Arimus," she said with a stiff curtsy.

Just as Arimus proclaimed, Conrad woke the next morning, weak from his sickness, but free from fever and ravenously hungry. Tess prepared her finest breakfast, which he devoured and asked seconds and thirds. Conrad was distraught to learn of his daughter's agreement with the wizard Arimus, but there was nothing to be done about it now; one could not break one's word with a wizard.

It seemed an eternity for those three days to pass. Every possible scenario, every horrible spell or curse that she could think of played out in her mind. Would he turn her into some loathsome creature? Had Calohidh once been a maiden like she, now changed into a hideous goblin? She dreaded to think about it, and her sleep fled. Finally, that day arrived. She made breakfast for her family, yet no one ate: they were as glum and forlorn as she. Once again she dressed in her finest and made the long, lonesome trip to Arimus' manor. This time, the door opened before she knocked. "The Master is expecting you," Calohidh declared.

The goblin led her deep into the interior of the manor, past rooms that smelled of sulfur or formaldehyde, rooms filled with otherworldly things that Tess thought existed only in the nightmares of the deranged. In the basement of the manor was single a large room, easily the size of her entire farmhouse, that served as Arimus' laboratory. An obnoxious and dizzying array of odors assaulted her nose, forcing her to grab the side of a table to keep her balance. Everywhere she looked, dangerous or disgusting looking things hung from lines on the ceiling or floated in some murky jar.

"Tess Keeve," Calohidh announced flatly.

Arimus turned and smiled at her. "Ah, just in time. Calohidh, fetch us some tea. Tess, come here and have a seat. I'm nearly ready."

Calohidh left with a dull grunt and Tess did as she was told, sitting demurely on the edge of a dusty chair while silently praying that this would all be over soon. Moments passed while the wizard worked, quietly humming to himself. Calohidh returned and sat a tarnished silver tray with two cups of steaming tea on the small table next to her. Tess was faint with anxiety and so was thankful to put something warm and soothing in her belly.

"Perfect!" Arimus suddenly exclaimed, holding up a vial with unbridled delight. He turned and sat down next to his disquieted guest. "Are you ready, my dear?" he asked, holding out the vial.

"As I'll ever be," she muttered glumly, and took the tube as one might a poisonous snake. "Are you going to turn me into a monster?" she asked abruptly.

Arimus blinked. "Heaven's no! Why rob the earth of such beauty?" he replied, taking a sip of his tea with a perfectly extended pinkie finger.

His answer did little to assuage her doubts. She considered the contents of the vial: the fluid was thick and red, and smelled strongly of cinnamon and vanilla, hardly the ingredients for a vile spell, she thought. "This is it? All I have to do is drink this, and I've paid my debt?"

"That is all, my dear Tess. Now drink."

Tess closed her eyes and said one last prayer to the Mother. She then swallowed the potion in one quick gulp. It tasted exactly like it smelled, warming her throat as it went down. When she opened her eyes she quickly examined her body, but nothing had changed that she could tell. Arimus the wizard was earnestly watching her, while Calohidh excitedly hopped from one foot to the other. Clearly, they were expecting something to happen.

"Is that it?" she asked. Arimus said nothing. Then she felt the slightest twinge in her belly, like when something desn't go down quite right. The twinge turned to nausea, then the nausea grew and she thought she could see the wizard's stare turn to a faint smile. She set down her glass of tea and held her tummy. A cold sweat broke out on her forehead. "I'm afraid I may vomit, Master Arimus!" she cried.

"Naturally," he replied, handing her a wide-mouthed glass. "Don't fight it dear, just go into this."

She nodded awkwardly and took the glass, swooning with nausea. She felt bile start to fill her mouth, and then up it came. The fluid tasted the same as the potion, and was bright red as it filled the bottom of the glass. Then she heard the tinkle of something hard hit the bottom of the glass and was shocked to see a tiny jewel, like a carnelian stone, sitting in the glowing red fluid.

"What is that?" she gasped, wiping her mouth with her kerchief.

He quickly took the tube away and returned to the work table. "It is called a Thonodrinne; the physical manifestation of a virtue."

Tess leaned around to peek at what the wizard was up to. He was cautiously filling a tiny glass tube, about the size of her pinkie, with the red liquid she had vomited up. The strange stone rested at the bottom. He sealed the tube with a stopper and slipped it into a finely crafted silver sheath. From the table he took the sheath's top, made to resemble a maiden, kneeling, arms outstretched, and carefully fitted the two together. The outstretched hands of the maiden grasped the ends of a long, thick silver chain, which he wrapped around his fist.