4 comments/  25676 views/  7 favorites

Feldare Tales: High Society Ch. 01

By: mack_the_knife



Dual Apprentices: High Society

"We've got to what?" asked Wenn, his face incredulous.

Crissa looked at him, focusing her huge blue eyes on his flailing hands as he spoke. "Master Marrat wishes us to receive what he calls 'classical' education," she repeated. "In addition to our normal studies."

"At the Academy?" Wenn peered out the window of their shared room, eyeing the tall spire that marked the main building of the Academy of Norboro. "But that place is full of nobles' brats and rich merchants' spoiled kids."

"Speaking of spoiled," said Crissa, giving Wenn a sidelong look. "Perhaps we should concern ourselves more with the difficulty of the instruction there than with the social worries. Hmm?"

After her somewhat chastising words, she rose from her desk and put her arms around Wenn's shoulders. "Don't worry, sweetie, I'll protect you from the bullies," said Crissa, kissing his earlobe. Her hands moved down his chest and to his lap, where she found him already growing stiff. "My mighty Wenn," she cooed, squeezing his swelling prick through his pants.

Wenn smiled and leaned back to kiss her neck and to nuzzle into her straw-colored hair. "You know, they say lushes drink before noon. What do they call a woman who wants love before noon?"

"A catch," said Crissa, flashing him a brilliant, dangerous smile before moving back and toward the door into the stairwell.

The young apprentice's smile evaporated as he watched Crissa open the door, and a small measure of alarm came into his expression. "You're leaving?" he asked.

"You implied some fault to my desiring affection in the early day," said Crissa. "I'll not pester you with unreasonable demands." With that, she flipped her long tresses over her shoulder and disappeared through the doorway.

Wenn sat silently for a long moment, and mourned the pleasure his so-called wit had just cost him. He then closed the hefty tome he had been perusing and stacked his parchment notes into an orderly pile, looking at Crissa's disheveled desktop as he did so. No discipline, he thought, but then again, she's studying a different form of magic than I.

That sentiment was more than true. Crissa, indeed, was studying a very different form of magic from the wizardry Wenn studied. She was an innate power. That is, her power was inborn, not learned. What she had to learn was to control and hone that power. Wenn, however, studied the world of spell casting. His learning was akin to mathematics, and had many formulae in common with that esoteric art of number juggling. However, instead of manipulating the concepts inherent in numbers, he was manipulating reality. Spells had to be learned, and the formulae memorized and the rotes perfected. Crissa simply had to think properly, focus her mind and things happened.

They weren't flashy things, like a fireball, they were subtle, quiet things, like turning a man's mind to thoughts of lust, or hate, or fear. She could even, now, sense the surface thoughts on another's mind, and of late, had been able to sense other things, like the air about her, and even Wenn's magical aether being drawn in for a spell.

Marrat was rather fumbling in the dark instructing Crissa, as he was a wizard, as Wenn would become. He only took Crissa on as an apprentice because he feared for her safety, and for the safety of those near to her, if her powers remained undisciplined. At least, here at Marrat's home, and nearby, he could counter most of the effects of her occasional outbursts of power and random emotional shrapnel. In the meantime, he did as much research into her abilities as he could, both through observing her, and through study of books, which came from farflung libraries about the Western Realms and beyond.

Wenn closed the door behind him and descended from the turret room that he shared with Crissa. They had been lovers since they first made the two-day journey from Morrovale to Norboro. Marrat had planned that, they later discovered. He was not particularly keen on having two apprentices at one time, but with her powers manifesting in the form of unbridled lusts and desire, he desired to have a young buck about to soak up the stray arrows.

Not that Wenn minded the extra dose of attention directed at him whenever Crissa accidentally set herself into rut on the occasion. Being eighteen, almost nineteen, he had little issue with it at all.

Soon after their arrival, Crissa had breached the subject of monogamy, and they decided, rather she decided that it would not be practical to try to hold one another to such a thing. He loved her, and she him, but they could not promise, especially with random fluxes of passion floating about the house all the time, that they would never cross that line, so she erased the line.

Crissa was making breakfast as he entered the kitchen, and Marrat was sitting at the table, looking like a petulant child who was being kept from his favorite dessert.

At Wenn's curious look, Crissa said, "He was going to eat pie for breakfast!" She cast accusing eyes at Master Marrat, their mentor.

Marrat looked at her with a squint. "I'm sixty-two years old, if I want pie for breakfast, by the One, I'll have pie for breakfast!"

Crissa spun about, her hair fanning into a golden halo, she stopped, with her small hands in fists upon her nicely curved hips. "You'll eat a proper breakfast, and you'll like it," she said, with an air of certainty. Then her face broke into a huge smile and she ducked in toward the elderly magician, hugging his neck and back. "I only wish to take care of you, you sweet man." She then kissed the top of his balding head and straightened his blue sash, the mark of his profession.

The old wizard tried to wriggle free of her grip, but was not very convincing that he did not like the attention she was giving him. Though his lips remained in a semi-scowl, his eyes were sparkling and had the straight lower lid of a hidden smile.  

Wenn helped her prepare breakfast, mostly by fetching utensils from various disparate cabinets and drawers about the rather odd kitchen that Marrat insisted on keeping his way.

"The headmaster will be expecting you two tomorrow morning," announced Marrat, digging into his oatmeal, eggs, and sliced ham with gusto, belying totally his lack of desire for breakfast.

"Must we?" asked Wenn, picking at his food with the unpleasant, at least in his mind, future looming over him.

Master Marrat leaned back from shoveling food into his mouth. "Son, this is an exceptional opportunity for some formal education at the Academy. It is not every year that they have two students drop out mid-term and leave vacancies that the Headmaster wishes to fill pro bono."

"Besides, Wenn, you were the one who was all excited at living in the 'cultural center of the duchy'," said Crissa.

Wenn stared at his oatmeal for a moment. "That was before I met the people at that center."

The first week in Norboro, Wenn had come across several students from the Academy at the pub nearest Marrat's home. As he sat and drank his ale, they came over and began to give him grief. Soon it escalated to full-blown bullying, and then one had thrown a punch at Wenn, when he refused to back down from an insult he returned to the lad, with interest.

Wenn had thoroughly beaten the lad who started it, without even resorting to magic, but his two friends extracted vengeance in short order, leaving Wenn with bruises to both his body and ego. Crissa's vengeance had been swift and utter. The two lads had been caught the next morning, performing acts upon one another in the middle of the town square that immediately got them expelled from the Academy, hence the two vacancies amid term. 

People about town still marveled that the two lads had managed such a thing, much less actually did it in public. When Wenn asked Crissa about it, she simply said that she knew little of the perversions that the rich and noble got up to, but that she heard it could be quite depraved.

"Sorry about picking on you about your flirting with me this morning," said Wenn as they washed dishes side by side. "It was only a joke."

Crissa leaned over and kissed the tip of his nose. "I know, dear," she said. "I wasn't truly in the mood, I simply wished to play some."

Marrat had retired to his study to work on some new formulae for Wenn to study, and probably, by the theories that both the apprentices held, come up with odious chores for them to perform. Crissa dried her hands and moved behind him pressing her body to his back and hugging him from behind.

"Still playing?" asked Wenn.

"No," replied Crissa, "now, I am in the mood." In an instant, Wenn was, too. He never knew if it was she or himself, but when Crissa wanted love-play, he knew he did, too.

He turned about in her arms and kissed her, pulling her to him and enjoying the wiggle of her body against his. He breathed deep the jasmine scent of her hair and then kissed her flawless neck as she unfastened his pants. As the thong that held the front of his pants closed came loose, his erect cock sprang forth. Crissa grasped it with a practiced hand and began stroking his now fully hard organ, smiling at him.

"How this time?" asked Wenn.

Crissa giggled. "On the table."

Wenn kept kissing her neck and ear as he moved toward the table, Crissa backing the whole way. She ended up sitting on the table stroking his hard cock in one hand and lifting her long dress with the other. She still refused to dress in the more current 'elven' style, wearing short skirts and half-tunic tops. Wenn no longer lamented that, for she also never wore undergarments and he found her quite accessible for that.

A moment later, she was prone on the table, and he was inside her, grasping her legs to his stomach and chest and driving his rod into her feverishly. This was to be a quick round, he knew, from the fact that she was not naked, and neither was he. When Crissa intended longer bouts of love play, she managed to get them nude, and usually into their room, usually.

She screamed out as her climax took her, and her fingernails dug at the wooden top of the table, which was already somewhat scarred up by her markings. As she came, a blue and yellow, coruscating light surrounded the room, and rippled as the waves of pleasure overcame her. The magical wards that prevented her stray arousal from escaping the house were absorbing her lusts. However, they seemed to be taking more effort to do so these days. Crissa was growing more powerful. Even with the added control she had learned over the last few months, she still had a lot of what Marrat called 'backlash'.

Wenn followed her example and came soon after, grunting and driving his spike deep into her as he spilled his seed into her. Crissa ran her hands over his arms and her own thighs as she cooled down, cooing and smiling at the ceiling. A few moments later, she and Wenn were dressed again and Wenn politely cleaned the table, not that they had tarried long enough to make a noticeable mess of it.

Master Marrat came in a moment later. "One protect me, girl," he groused. "You're getting stronger faster than you're getting better control." The old wizard's robe tented out a little from a receding erection as he shuffled through the kitchen and out the back door to the outhouse. "Make sure you clean the table, I don't wish to get anything on my cuffs when I eat lunch," he added as he wandered down the steps and closed the back door.

Wenn and Crissa laughed at his constant barrage of complaints. Marrat had already proven that he liked his apprentices, and his fussiness was, in his own way, his manner of showing it. They had met a former apprentice that he did not like much, and that lad complained that he never spoke at all, not to complain or anything.

They trudged up the stairs to their turret, which was on the third floor of his home. "I sort of have a date tonight," said Wenn.

"Oh?" asked Crissa, turning as she reached the door into their room. "With whom?"

Wenn blushed. "Shanelle," he replied. "You know, the girl who works at the bakery."

"Oh, her." Crissa's face took on a look of happiness. "She's very pretty, and I hear tell she is quite, well, friendly."

The lad gave Crissa an odd look. "I didn't say being friendly was bad," said Crissa defensively. "I'm a bit friendly myself."

Another impassive look from Wenn caused her to blush. "Okay, very friendly myself, extremely friendly, even."

Crissa giggled then. "You win. I'm a one girl welcome wagon," she finally said.

Wenn kissed her, pressing her to the wall. "And that is why I love only you," he said as they pulled back from the kiss.

"And I love you," said Crissa quietly.

"If you'd rather I didn't go?" asked Wenn, and Crissa saw the half hopeful look in his eyes. She knew he wanted them to be monogamous, but she was afraid to commit to that. It would hurt them more if they promised it, then she broke it in a moment of weekness.

She sighed. "Actually, I was going to ask if you wanted me to pay her a little visit this afternoon, sort of give you a little edge for tonight?"

Wenn looked shocked. "No!" he exclaimed. "Please, don't ever do that."

She shrugged. "Okay. I won't."

"It was kind of you to offer," said Wenn afterward.

Crissa grinned. "What are lovers for?" she asked.

"What are your plans tonight?" asked Wenn as they went into their room and he sat upon his bed.

She looked into the distance. "I don't rightly know," she said, truthfully. "I suppose, I could go out and be friendly."

Wenn covered his look of dismay quickly, but not quickly enough. It wrenched Crissa's heart a little to see him like this, but she knew it had to be so. She had tried, during their first week in town to remain loyal only to him. However, the first time she had been alone, things had gone far different.

Crissa had been doing the shopping for the household. Working her way through the market stalls and picking out choice fruits, vegetables, and breads, along with seeking out odd herbs and chemicals for which Marrat had given her a list.

As she had been perusing a particularly odd assortment of little vials of strangely marked chemicals, she had felt a palpable stare upon her. It was her senses again, working sporadically and without control. She turned to see a very large man standing across the narrow alley between the stalls, leaning on a tent pole, and watching her with very interested eyes.

He was a Coghlander, one of the large men from the island of the same name. He stood at least a foot taller than she, and massed, probably double her own weight.

She turned back to her studies of the bottles and once again felt the stare, this time accompanied by an undeniable desire. She could feel him wanting her.

Again, Crissa turned and glanced toward him, her eyes drawn to the front of his skirtlike kilt like moths to a candle. He noted her stare, and followed her sight line and his handsome, rugged face smiled at her as he moved his legs and stood differently, casting the outline of his organ more clearly in the loose-hanging cloth of his patterned kilt.

Crissa turned back to the chemicals, thinking, he's huge. She was now uncomfortably hot between her thighs. An image flashed in her mind of the big Coghlander behind her, with her bent over a barrel and taking her with that oversized cock he was sporting. That was no imagining of hers, the thought was his.

She swallowed and abandoned her search for rare chemicals and decided to get home, now.

With quick, furtive movements, she headed out of the market square. Then, after moving a block away, she realized she was going the wrong direction. She had walked down a dead-end alley. What am I doing? she thought.

She spun about, preparing to walk back out of the long, narrow alley. It had made a couple of minor turns around buildings since she had left the market and she could not see the brightly festooned stalls from here. However, she did see the Coghlander. Once again, he was propping up something with his massive shoulder. This time it was a wall. He was so powerful-looking that she could have sworn he really was holding the wall up.

Her breathing was now shallow and rapid. Again, the image of her lying over a barrel, and being spread open wide by his thick spike flashed into her mind. Her eyes flicked over to her right, where a barrel lay upon its side, just like the one she had seen in her vision. It wasn't mind sending, it was foretelling, she thought, One save me. 

"You look lost," the Coghlander said in a very powerful voice. His Westron was passable, but not particularly good.

She shook her head. "I just got a bit disoriented," said Crissa. She tried mightily, but could not avoid looking down at his somewhat tented kilt. A moment later, she realized she was still staring at his organ outlined in stark relief by shadows on the cloth. With a quick shake of her head, she blinked and lifted her gaze to his eyes. He was smiling again. Her legs were wobbly now, and she was not at all sure she would make it out of this alley without stumbling. She sat upon a nearby crate that lay near one wall. The heat between her thighs was intense now and her mind was casting about furiously for a way out of this situation.

The Coghlander, running his fingers through his red hair stepped closer to her and sat upon another crate nearby. Her eyes tracked him, and once again, against her very will, locked themselves onto his semi-hard prick sliding and bobbing beneath the cloth as he moved.

"You a very pretty girl," the mercenary said, looking at her with deep green eyes. She felt a wave of lust wash over her as he said that. "Very tall for Westron lass, and beautiful eyes."

Crissa looked at him. "Thank you," she said, then almost reflexively added, "You're very handsome." She knew he could hear her small, gasping breaths of air, and the way her eyes darted about, but always coming back to his slightly tented kilt. His organ was no longer semi-hard, it was fully erect, and seemed to go halfway down his long, muscular thigh, she swallowed again, from both worry, and because her mouth was full of saliva.

Another image flashed, unbidden, through her mind, of her on her knees before this mighty man, servicing him as best she could.

The Coghlander's eyes widened. He felt that one, she thought, this is about to get bad. She visibly saw his organ twitch beneath his kilt, the cloth moved a good distance from where his root should start, she noted, a very long distance.

He watched her eyes for a long moment, and she finally blinked again and looked up to his. "You want see it?" he asked.

Crissa's face turned a deep crimson and she gasped. "Oh my," she said, her eyes again moving down, as if a reflex, to the pronounced bulge. Then, in a voice almost totally devoid of volume, Crissa said, "Yes." What? No! NO! her mind rebelled.

"Look if you want," he said, smiling at her. Despite her better judgement or even her own straining will, Crissa knelt before him and began sliding her hands up his muscular thighs. She hooked the hem of his kilt with her thumbs as her hands moved upward. Having lifted the kilt only a few inches, she already saw the massive knob of his cock's head, still hidden beneath the fleshy hood of foreskin. Her eyes widened at the thought of how far below his groin this extremity of his member laid. She pushed the kilt up to his waist, his organ bobbing upward from beneath the heavy cloth.

She gasped at his size and at the magnificence of it. It was two-thirds the length of her forearm and thicker than her wrist. Each of his massive testicles would fill one of her hands, she figured.

She swallowed again. "Wow," said Crissa. "That's impressive."

"You want look closer, touch?" The Coghlander asked, taking the kilt's accordioned cloth from her and holding it to free her hands.


Feldare Tales: High Society Ch. 01



"Yes," she agreed again. NO! NO! NO! a small voice in her head said, even as she leaned in closer.

She was over a foot from him and his pole was nearly reaching to her. Crissa looked at one side then the other, noting the large, thick veins that covered the mostly smooth surface and the foreskin that covered the head. Men of the Western Realms were almost all circumcised; this was the first foreskinned penis she had seen.

"Touch," the Coghlander said.

Her eyes went up to his face as he spoke, then immediately focused upon his cock again.

Crissa tentatively raised her right hand and wrapped it about the shaft of his organ midway between the head and base. Before she could think, she said. "I can't even get my fingers around its girth." Crissa playfully pushed the foreskin back, revealing the swollen head beneath. It stayed put when she let go, held back by the swell of the ridge behind the head.

He looked down, and indeed, there was a gap of almost half an inch between her thumb and middle finger. 

Moisture was joining the heat between her thighs. "You like?" the Coghlander asked, and once again, her body betrayed her mind by nodding. "You know how cocksuck?" he asked, using a crude word, but quite adequate for describing the action he wanted her to take.

NO! NO! NO! NO! her mind shouted as she opened her mouth and took the huge head into herself. Her jaw popped as she opened it far enough to take him in. She already tasted precome, even now, and knew this would be a very juicy man. The skin of his pole was soft like silk and hot as it slid over her tongue.

Her other hand joined the first and she began stroking the long thick shaft with both. The Coghlander said something she did not understand, and his powerful, massive hands held to the back of her head. He was definitely a moist man, and she was obliged to swallow several times to keep breathing.

I'm sucking a stranger's cock in an alley, Crissa thought, I'm such a whore. 

The Coghlander grunted and his hands locked into place behind her head. She readied herself and expected it when her mouth was flooded with gout after gout of semen. Crissa feared for a moment she would choke on it, so copious was the flow, but it subsided quickly, leaving her only a few trickles around the edge of her mouth to lap up.

He sighed, pulled her upright, and kissed her, apparently not minding the taste of his own seed on her lips. With no visible effort, he picked her up and laid her over the barrel. There it is, she thought, smiling at having been right, after all. Soon her dress was up under her arms and he was burying his tongue into her opening. By the one, even his tongue is large.

The big Coghlander lifted her rump from the barrel and began to suck and lick her entire lower groin, from her anus to her clit, and back. She groaned in pleasure as he thrust his soft, thick tongue into her backside then again into her cunt. In moments, she grabbed his head and held his mouth to her as she ground her cunt into his mouth, then screamed as she climaxed. "One protect! Take me you barbarian!" exclaimed Crissa, pulling his hair and trying to pull his head up to hers, to lay him over her body.

The redheaded man obliged willingly, moving up her until he was directly over her body, lying draped over the barrel. He lifted his kilt again and held it up as he aimed his rod at her entrance. She felt the head of his cock trying to open her and her face took on a look of momentary fear as he did so, stretching her wide open in the process. His cock had been thicker than her wrist at midpoint, but was much thicker, still, at the head, and toward the base.

As inches slid into her well-lubricated cunt, she groaned, feeling now more opened than she had ever felt. She loved Wenn, it was true, but he could not open her like this, and definitely could not drive into her with the fury that this man was releasing. His massive arms corded as he pulled her down onto his cock, impaling her on his length. She grunted as her pelvis slammed into his.

It hurt a little, she had to admit, but it felt good a LOT. He drove into her repeatedly, hammering her body with blow after blow from his powerful thrusts. All the muscles in his thighs and arms worked together to drive him into her as much as he pulled her into him; the barrel creaked in protest at the rocking motion. Again, she felt her muscles lock up as another climax overtook her, then another. She screamed out each time, calling out obscenities and demanding more. "Fuck me harder, man, HARDER!" she screamed. 

The Coghlander smiled and happily complied with her wishes. Grabbing each leg with one hand, he lifted them until he was standing with them pulled to his chest and her shoulders on the barrel. With a grunt, he drove into her in this new position and knocked the wind from her as his cock bottomed out. "YES!" she screamed, "Like that!"

Another orgasm gripped, her, the master of the others she had experience so far. Her hands gripped his wrists and she helped add to the thrusts, lifting her shoulders from the barrel as she came, he rammed into her one last long stroke and she felt his come pour forth, even as her own climax subsided.

Crissa could feel each pulse of semen as it filled her womb, and there were many. She sighed with each, slumping back onto the barrel as he held her legs locked to his chest, spending into her. He moaned with each pulse of the fluid into her, and sighed contentedly as the last shot forth. He sat her down gently as his knees tried to buckle beneath him.

He moved down to his knees, his organ withdrawing from her and sliding out. Her cunt felt empty now, like something was missing, and she groaned in protest at the absence. "Please, tell me you're not done," said Crissa.

She lay there panting, and feeling the warm rays of the sun on her exposed thighs and pussy. The Coghlander stood up, finally, and sat on the crate again, his cock still half erect and forming a gentle arc out from his body and then down. "You want more?" he said, disbelief marking his features.

Crissa sat up, smiling. "Not really," she said. "I think more might do permanent damage." Then she laughed. "I'm going to hurt for a week over what we just did."

He grinned at her. "Sorry," he said insincerely. "If there another time, I go slower," he informed her. For a long moment he thought, and then said, "My name is Douglas."

She giggled at that. "I do suppose we've not been introduced. My name is Crissa."

"Is short for?" he asked.

Crissa stood up, her knees were still wobbly, but manageable now. "Just Crissa, my parents didn't believe in long names."

"You live in Norboro?" asked Douglas.

She tried to straighten her hair. "I do now, I've lived here a week."

His face grew saddened. "You just get here and I have to go," he said. "My unit loose contract, and we leave on morrow."

Crissa's face grew saddened, as well. "That's sad. Where are you going?"

"Crystern Islands, big war there with Theocracy," he said in his pidgin Westron.

"Oh, my. May the One protect you," she said reflexively. She had heard that the Crystern Chain was a meat grinder of a war, and that most men who went there never returned.

He nodded solemnly. "Yes," said Douglas. "I want thank you, though."

"For what?" asked Crissa, avoiding the obvious reason a man might be thankful right about now.

He smiled wanly. "You give me good memory to take with me," he said. Then in a conspiratorial whisper said, "You only woman I make love with in Westron lands. You first tall beautiful one I saw."

Crissa blushed at his continued compliments, even though he had already gotten what he wanted from her. "Happy to be of service," she said, winking. She looked about, though, noting the shadows on the walls about her. "Oh, my. It's gotten late, and I need to get home," she said, noting that it was almost suppertime and she was the cook this evening.

He nodded. "Thanks again," he said, and held out her wicker basket of supplies to her.

She kissed him heartily, pressing to him again and suckling upon his tongue for a long moment, then smiled as she took possession of the basket. "Thank you, and be careful," she said.

"I will," he replied, "Got something to come back to Westron lands for." He grinned broadly at her and Crissa blushed again, turning to walk out of the alley.

When she had gotten home, Wenn was terribly upset; rumors of a random spat of unexplained sexual promiscuity had already spread throughout town. She had completely forgotten that without the wards, her orgasms would send forth great pulses of unbridled lustful emotions to all and sundry for dozens of yards around.

"Wenn, we never promised anything to each other," she said defensively as he stomped up the stairs to their room. He had just announced that he was going home. She had tears rolling down her cheeks and she sobbed gently.

"I will speak to him," said Marrat. "He does not understand you fully, my dear."

"I don't even understand me fully, Master Marrat," said Crissa.

"I know dear. Just give him a while and let me talk to him." Marrat patted her shoulder and went up the long winding stair to the turret bedroom.

She was never sure what Marrat had said to him, but after that, Wenn did not get mad about her indiscretions. She was not terribly frequent with them, but they did happen. It bothered her, though, to know she was hurting him, even if only a little.  

Now, when it came down to it, she was a little jealous of him going out with another girl. She had to remind herself that she had, indeed, started it, so should still her tongue and comfort herself that it was for the best. You know he loves you, she thought, and you love him. Then another voice in her head, a meaner voice, said, now, if only you could keep from bedding every good-looking man you came across. Her head shook miserably and watched Wenn dress in one of his better outfits and preen in the mirror over their dresser.

---

Wenn had left for his 'date' over three hours ago, and Crissa was growing restless. Little flashes of what might be happening kept flickering through her mind. Unlike the incident with the Coghlander, these were simply her jealousy and imagination ganging up to beat up her insecurity.

She sighed and sat up, and then walked to her wardrobe. Peering inside by the flicker of the single candle lighting their turret, she pulled forth the 'elven style' dress that Wenn had bought her soon after they had arrived in Norboro.

Crissa looked at it for a long moment, then slid off her long peasant's dress. The mirror reflected her nude form and she smiled. Slowly, with deliberate care, she donned the elven dress, watching herself do so, in a form of reversed striptease. Elven dresses showed when one wore a loincloth, for those who knew about such, and she did not. She turned about, craning her neck to see the results on her backside. She admired the finished product. Not bad, if I say so myself.

She chided herself for doing something so naughty; like wearing a dress Wenn gave her on the one night he was not about to appreciate it. Then she flipped her long straw-colored hair over her shoulder and plaited it into three long, neat rows, again elven style.

"You're too tall to be a elf," she said to herself, then giggled and unplaited her hair. No, she would not be quite so elven as that. Enough that she was wearing the scandalously short skirt with no undergarments.

If only I had the temerity to go out like this, she thought to herself.

---

Men turned to stare as she entered the tavern. Crissa had intentionally selected a small tavern with a very small clientele; she was not yet up to presenting herself half-naked to a large crowd.

It was a seedy little place, built of clapboards and only one story, without even any rooms to let. It was purely a place to imbibe alcohol, and served no food, even.

They gazed at her long cloak and turned back to their drinks and conversations with one another and the handful of other women who were here.

"Take your cloak, miss?" the bartender asked, pointing toward a long pegboard inside the door. She smiled sweetly and turned her back to him. He slipped the cloak off her shoulders as she untied its neck strings. Many men's eyes found cause to return to the doorway now; she was still wearing the elven outfit. A few men among the crowds' eyes widened at the sight and there were even a few murmurs of appreciation. She felt a low-key rush of desire wash over her and through her mind. With a broad smile, she stroked the bartender's hand as he moved toward the pegboard. This elicited a quick pang of desire from him, which she mentally lapped up like a kitten drinking milk.

She walked on into the tavern and slid onto a stool toward the end farther from the doorway. Upon sitting, a young man approached her. "Buy you a drink, miss?" he asked.

Crissa regarded him. "If you wish it," she replied, gracing him with a broad smile. The almost boyish rush of pleasure and relief that emanated from him made her smile even more broadly and turn toward him. "My name is Crissa," she said, bowing her head slightly, something else the people of the duchy had picked up from the elves in the last few years.

He nodded a quick bow in return. "My name is Charel," he replied. "I've never seen you about. Are you new in town?"

"Somewhat," said Crissa. "I've been here for four months now."

"Then you must have been hidden away, for had I seen you before, I would remember," said Charel, smiling.

"I am one of Marrat's apprentices," she said. "The old man keeps us quite busy most of the time." She took a long look at Charel, he was a tall lad, and slim, probably her own age or near it. She liked his hair. It was curly and laid upon his skull like a cloth cap. He also had appealing gray eyes, rather unusual in a Westron.

His eyes widened. "Marrat's apprentice?" he asked. "Wow. Then you are a wizard in training?"

"In a manner, yes," she said with a smile. "But fear not, my powers are feeble." She felt a short burst of panic cross from him to her, then relief at her disclaimer of power. An inward smile formed on Crissa's mental lips. Slowly, over a few minutes, his mood again turned back toward desire, and she felt that swell inside her as she absorbed the free-flowing lust from the aether.

Charel and she chatted for a long while, talking of this and that and about her apprenticeship and his apprenticeship to a local tailor. "I may have made that outfit," he said. "Does it bear a label?"

She thought for a moment then said, "I believe it does." Almost negligently, she lifted the hem of the skirt and peered at the inner seam, indeed there was a label, and he peered at it and nodded. "I did," he said as she felt a fresh and more powerful wave of desire strike her mind like a wave coming in during a tide. She glanced down to see that from where he sat, he had a clear view of her pubic hair, if not her actual entrance.

Crissa blushed profusely at the realization and put her hem back into place atop her thighs. A tiny pang of sadness shot through the aether and she smiled to know he wanted to see more. She looked toward Charel and smiled, seeing him blushing as well.

"I should tell you, good Charel," said Crissa, a seriousness coming into her expression, "I am a mentalist, and can feel some of your stronger emotions." She gave him another broad smile that she hoped was disarming.

He nodded slowly. "I feared I was an open book to you, but find myself surprised at how open," said Charel. "I hope I've not given offence with my thoughts."

She narrowed her eyes a little and let one side of her mouth quirk upward. "I'm still speaking with you, aren't I?" she asked.

A wash of relief settled over her and she sighed to feel such a pure emotion in such abundance. Relief had no 'flavor' and it was like cleansing one's palate after a sip of wine meant for tasting. Now that her mental palate was clear, she turned to him again.

"Would you like to go for a walk?" asked Crissa.

A strong feeling of excitement slid over her mind and a fair amount of desire again. She luxuriated in the strong emotional current and turned herself to step down off the stool. As they came to the door, the bartender helped her don her cloak again and, arm in arm, she and Charel walked out into the darkened street. She let herself swell with the pride that Charel emanated as people turned to watch the couple move down the street. If he was proud to be with her, then she was proud of herself.

---

Wenn's mind kept seeing Crissa. He even caught himself three times thus far trying to say her name in place of Shanelle's. Shanelle was charming, in her own way. Pretty, petite, and quite intelligent, he found. She also had an uncanny ability to keep the topic of conversation firmly away from anything to do with Crissa. 

They were walking down the boardwalk on the Ryss River. Riverboats were moored to the docks and longshoremen were busy offloading and loading freight. It was a fun place to walk though, as many impromptu merchants set up shop right off the boat, at least until the guards came and chased them off or got their bribe money. Shanelle was wearing a one-piece elven cut dress and the short hemline and the high-heeled boots she wore in addition very well displayed her long legs. This outfit and her natural good looks caused many a longshoreman to decide it was time for a minutes' break as she passed.

"I've never spoken at length to a wizard before, Wenn," said Shanelle. "Do you know any spells?"

Wenn smiled and nodded. "But nothing very impressive," he amended. "Would you like to see?"

She smiled broadly. "Oh, yes," she said, excitement suffusing her lovely face.

Wenn passed his hand over her hair, incantating as he did so. She smiled, but her face was rather confused looking as he stepped back and smiled at her.

"What did you do?" she asked, touching her hair, then gasped as she realized it was now braided in a very tight braid, close to her skull and intricate of design. "Interesting, a coifomancer," she giggled.

He smiled at that. "I can do more showy, if you like, but you need to keep in mind that you're asking me to do it," he said, a hint of warning creeping into his voice.

Her brown eyes glinted in the torchlight of the riverfront docks. "Okay, I will keep it in mind," said Shanelle, a bit of flirt in her eyes.

They walked a little ways down the docks, to where no boats were moored and he began incantating again. She saw nothing happen when he stopped, and regarded him with a look of concern. "And what did you do to me this time?" she asked.

He walked her to the water's edge, where she could see her reflection in the river water by peering over the dock's lip. "My dress is blue now!" she exclaimed. She looked at Wenn with wide eyes. "How long does it last?" asked Shanelle.

"Until I change it again, or someone dispels the magic," replied Wenn. "You do like blue, or do you have a preference for another color?"

She nodded. "I like purple, most of all," she said. "But no one about these parts had any purple cloth when I commissioned this dress."

Wenn snapped his fingers and she looked down at her now royal purple dress. "There," he said, grinning. "Let me know if anyone dispels it."

She giggled. "You'll hear them scream when I pinch them for taking my purple away," she said. "One more trick, please?" she begged.

Wenn thought a moment. "Mind something a little less obvious, but much more potent?" he asked.

She nodded. "Sure, I want to see real wizardry," said Shanelle, her eyes again sparkling and with a tiny tremble in her voice. She knew she was walking on the thin ice now, and it was thrilling her. He cast his most potent spell upon her.




Feldare Tales: High Society Ch. 01



Shanelle felt her knees go weak as he completed the last word of the incantation. She felt the cloth of her dress touching her, as if a thousand feathers were tickling her all over. A long step back caused her loincloth to slide over her privates with startling and arousing effect. A small moan escaped her lips. "Wow," she said, "this is amazing."

She reached up to touch her throat, where the vibration of her speaking caused a slight tickle. When her fingertips contacted the bare skin of her neck, it was as if she were being kissed by angles in four spots on her throat. Her breath was coming in gasps as she ran her fingertips down her neck and over part of her chest, down to the cloth of her tunic. It was almost as if she had forgotten Wenn was standing there and was alone with her own touch to stimulate her.

Her eyes, opened and she closed her mouth. "Wenn, what have you done now?" she asked, again tickling her throat with her own words. A soft gust of breeze blew in off the river and moved over her body and she felt her knees go weak. "One protect," she said, gasping for air.

He smiled. "I've enhanced your sense of touch," he explained. "Amplified it manyfold."

"I'll say you did," she said, finally removing her fingertips from her neck. She smiled coyly. "What would a kiss feel like in this state?" she asked.

Wenn shrugged. "I only learned this spell last week, so I don't know."

"Kiss me and I'll tell you," offered Shanelle.

Wenn stepped closer to the petite brunette and put his arms around her. As his hands touched the small of her back, she sighed and then moaned as he kneaded the flesh under her dress gently. He pressed to her, she felt a thousand separate, unique contacts in that single embrace, each screamed for attention, and each wanted to tell her how wonderful it felt.

Their lips brushed slightly and she let out a long shuddering moan as they contacted firmly to one another. It was good that he was holding her, else her knees would have failed, and she would have fallen. As her pretty, dark eyes fluttered open she smiled weakly. "I believe I know how good it feels now," she said. "Kiss me again, and you shall have to carry me home."

He kissed her again. A second orgasm ripped through her petite frame and this time he felt her groan deep inside as he maintained the kiss. When he stopped and pulled his head back, she was nearly unconscious. "One save me, Wenn," she whispered, "but I want another kiss."

He obliged her request with pleasure. This time she did faint dead away. Wenn gently carried her to a nearby bench and sat her upon it, with her head in his lap. He quietly stroked her hair, to the tune of her sighs with each slow motion of his hand. When she awoke, he would make love to her, and cast that same spell halfway through the act. It would either make them ecstatic with pleasure or kill them both. But what a way to go, thought Wenn.



Feldare Tales: High Society Ch. 02



Master Marrat had made her show him the place where she had dallied with the Coghlander. He examined the alley closely, then began etching small magical symbols about the place, on stones and into wood.

"What are you doing?" asked Crissa, watching with interest.

He looked back at her. "Making this a safe place for you," replied Marrat.

Crissa rolled her eyes. "Great, so you'll put wards everywhere I have a liaison?"

The old wizard shook his head. "No, just the places where you are likely to have another."

She looked about. "You really think I intended to come down here?"

Marrat nodded. "Yes. The way you described the events, you did choose this alley, at least some part of you did," he explained.

The apprentice gave a great sigh. "Okay," she conceded. She sat upon the same crate she had sat upon before. Faintly, she could hear her cries of passion as the Coghlander rammed his thick pole into her on the barrel and she felt herself growing wet again. "Master Marrat, I hate this."

He nodded. "Until you can control yourself, I imagine you will," he replied. He turned his wrinkled face to her. "Give yourself time, girl, and remember, you're young, you are supposed to be enjoying dalliances and such now."

"I know," said Crissa, unconvincingly. "But, I hate hurting Wenn."

Marrat nodded. "I know you do, dear, and he knows you don't like it, either, and that is why he will, ultimately, forgive you."

This memory flowed through her mind briefly as she laid herself over the barrel, with Charel looming behind her and between her long, slim thighs. The memory faded quickly as he plunged his cock into her tight opening. He moaned at the warm sensation of her welcoming entrance and she moaned acceptance of him and at the wash of lust and happiness that washed over her.

The barrel creaked in protest again, rocking as he thrust into her. She was lying upon her belly this time, and he took her from behind. Not her rear entrance, but that debauched thought had entered her mind as he pushed into her. Wenn, alone, had taken her thus, entering her tighter and more forbidden hole. Crissa wondered how long that would be the case.

Charel was her sixth partner since coming to Norboro, four months ago, not including Wenn. They had all been brief affairs, no more than a few nights, and more often, one. She felt herself growing close to her climax, and began to concentrate in earnest upon the sex she was taking part in now, though it was not exceptional.

Charel was a competent lover, make no mistake, but he was not an incredible one. As he drove into her, she started eagerly meeting his thrusts and gripped his forearms for leverage. "Harder," she commanded Charel

He did his best, she knew, and redoubled his efforts. Soon she cried out as the pleasure overtook her, his own orgasm feeding hers to fullness. There was one distinct advantage to being a empath, she decided, if she was only near to orgasm, sensing her partner's climax almost invariably finished hers, as well.

He lay upon her for a long moment, and she enjoyed the feeling of being lain upon, the secure and protective weight upon her back. His cock still twitched within her. She quietly hoped he would swell for another erection and take her again.

This did not happen, though, his organ continued to soften and finally slipped from her tight cunt. Charel helped her to stand and pulled up his pants. "Wow, I didn't expect that," he said. She felt a wave of smug self-assuredness wash over her from him. He thinks he is just that good, does he?

Crissa nodded. "I never beat around the bush when I want a man to bed me," she said. "Never have before, and never will in the future."

This comment, while answering his statement, also dismantled some of that self regard he was building about himself like a bastion wall. There was still a firm foundation, though. "It's also very private," she added conversationally as she adjusted her skirt and half top. "I screamed bloody murder with the last man, for hours, and no one even came to see what was going on."

There goes the last course of base stones, she thought and kissed him. No, good sir, you were good, but not the best, don't get illusions in your head and I may let you go for another ride.

He looked a bit disconcerted with her frank discussion of past lovers, but quickly recovered. "Well, it was certainly pleasurable for me, thank you for accepting me to you," said Charel.

Much better, thought Crissa, a bit of humility goes a long way. She pressed her body to him and kissed him passionately. "Next time, then?" she asked and promised in three words. "Do you frequent that tavern?"

"Yes," he replied, "most nights for at least one beer."

She took his arm and started walking him out of the alley. "Then I shall know where to find you, hmm?" said Crissa.

They walked through town by the foggy and dull illumination of oil lamps located at the intersections of main streets. He stopped before Marrat's home, having escorted her to the house. "Thank you again, for a grand evening, Crissa."

Crissa smiled broadly. "Thank you for the same, Charel, it was very pleasant." With that, she turned and entered the house.

-

"By the One, Wenn," Shanelle said as she sat up, smiling. "If a kiss can cause me to release thus, then imagin. . . ."

She interrupted herself at what she was about to say.

"I have given it thought," said Wenn. "And when I find a young woman willing to help me learn more of that, I will then know and let you know."

She turned her nearly black eyes to him. "In a way, we've made love already," said Shanelle. "I mean, you've made me climax, three times."

Wenn nodded and kept still his tongue.

"Would you think me forward if I suggested we try your experiment?" she asked.

"Not at all," replied Wenn. "I would consider it a great honor to have such a beautiful test subject."

Shanelle giggled. "Then come," she said, rising from the bench and taking his hand. She pulled him down the dock and up the stairs back to the cobbled streets of Norboro.

He soon found himself inside a small home, inside the foyer and moving up the stairs to the second floor. "Where are we?" asked Wenn.

Shanelle said, "My employer's wife's home. They normally rent it out, but they are between tenants."

As the couple slipped into the bedroom, he noted that the room was furnished. "Must be expensive to rent," he commented.

She smiled. "It is," they are letting me stay here until new tenants move in, so that there is someone keeping an eye on the place. "I hope they never find suitable renters."

They embraced and kissed for a long moment. "Are you going to cast the spell again?" she asked, smiling.

"Once we've begun, else we may never get that far," replied Wenn, truthfully. He moved his hands over the bare sides and back of the elven dress she wore and she moaned slightly as his hands rubbed the soft, smooth skin. At the center of her back was the knot that held the entire dress on. He pulled one of the ears and it came undone with no problems.

Shanelle giggled as she stepped back and the dress fell from her body. Only a loincloth decorated her now, tied about her waist with a leather thong. She watched him kick off his boots, and then stepped in to help him take off his shirt and pants. She glanced down at his swelling rod. "I am a lucky girl," she said, smiling.

He untied her loincloth and found her to be a follower of elven fashion overall, for she had shaved her pubic hair off, and expertly so. When he ran his hand over her mound as he suckled on one of her breasts, he could not even feel stubble.

She groaned as he slid two fingers into her sopping wet slit. She produced far more lubricant than Crissa, he found, and saw that her thighs, even, glistened with the stuff. Or might that be an aftereffect of the spell from earlier?

The apprentice baker gave him a long look as she pulled him toward the bed with both hands. "Cast your spell after you enter me," she said.

"Of course," replied Wenn as she pulled him atop her then they kissed as she guided his cock to her opening. As her wetness suggested, he slid in with no effort and she grunted in pleasure as he found her depths.

"I don't know that I. . . ." she began to say.

Then, for her, the world melted away. It was replaced by the pleasure and joy of a full cunt, magnified many fold. She suddenly was her vagina, and nothing else in the universe mattered. She screamed right off, an orgasm tearing through her like a gale through a forest. Wenn pulled forth and pushed into her again and she screamed again, and again, she her entire body was seized with paralysis now, and she could not move. Fingernails were dug into the sheets, and Wenn heard them rip as she climaxed again. He feared she would faint, so casting feverishly again, he used the spell on himself.

The next morning, the sun warmed his backside as he lay upon the balcony floor, overlooking the street below. A wagon trundled past and he looked about blearily at the rising sun. "Wow," said Wenn. He crawled back through the open door to the bedroom they had been in. Shanelle lay upon the floor, her groin covered in drying semen almost to her knees. She was curled in her sleep and he smiled to see she was fine. He barely remembered last night after he cast the spell, just ecstasy.

He lay himself before her and touched her brow, more of his spend had dried there, and in her hair. He looked down and saw that he had a good deal of it on himself, too. That must have been fun, but I wish I could remember it, he thought idly. His cock felt raw and well-worn.

Shanelle opened her eyes slowly, fluttering them. "Good morrow, Wenn," she said, a smile coming to her lips. She moved slightly and groaned. "By the One, I believe you tried to kill me," she added, grinning. "Not that it would be a bad way to die."  

She sat up. "I have to get to the bakery," she said. "I had permission to come in late today, but I'll not be paid, either."

Wenn nodded. As she rose to her knees there was a splash as a huge volume of semen spilled onto the floor from her well-worn vagina. She grinned sheepishly at it. "Wow, Wenn, did you ever spend well last night."

He simply stared at the spreading pool of come and shook his head. "Amazing," said Wenn, then stood up. He put on his shirt and saw his pants on the headboard of the bed. Leaning over the bed he placed one hand in the center to hold himself up and felt his hand sink into wetness. The bed was soaked.

Shanelle looked at him as he looked at his hand then she giggled. "That would explain why I'm very thirsty this morn."

"I think, maybe, one of us should refrain from using that spell in the future," Wenn said, eyeing the semen still running down Shanelle's thigh as she walked to the washbasin. She had an odd gait as she walked. "Did you pull a muscle?" he asked.

"Unless you consider my butt hole a muscle, no," Shanelle said. "And I will not ask why my throat hurts, for I fear the answer will trouble me for weeks." She was slipping on her dress now and said, "Aren't you supposed to go to the Academy this day?"

Wenn nodded. "But not until the fourth bell."

Shanelle kissed him. "Well, then you let yourself out when you're ready, I must go," she said, and then whispered into his hear, "Please call on me later at the bakery, so we can arrange another date."

---

Crissa was clearing breakfast as Wenn came into the house. He had kept the presence of mind to clean up before leaving Shanelle's borrowed home.

"I see you spent the night to your profit," quipped Crissa as Wenn foraged for some fruit from the cupboard.

Old Marrat looked at her askance. "Crissa," he said in a warning tone. She bit off her words before she could utter more, turning back to the dishes. Wenn helpfully joined in, even if he had not partaken of the meal.

Crissa leaned toward him and sniffed. "You smell of another woman," she whispered.

Wenn looked at her with a worried expression.

"Don't worry, it arouses me," she said, smiling broadly, "I shall have to remark you later with my own scent." Her mind felt the guilty stink evaporate from him, replaced by an oddly scented sense of worry.

Wenn chuckled at that then felt a twinge of fear thinking about trying to use his worn cock again so soon. He would do so for Crissa, even if it hurt him, he knew.

Suddenly, Wenn noticed she was wearing the elven outfit he had bought her. "You're going to wear that to the Academy?" he asked, his eyes going wide.

Crissa nodded, sending a broad smile to him even as his pleasure at her clothing selection for the day flowed over her. "I don't wish to embarrass you," she explained.

She felt affection well up in him as he said. "You never embarrass me, angel," said Wenn, "I just wish you to show off the assets the One blessed you with."

"Well, today, at least, I will," she said with a broad grin. "And, if I find the reaction to it favorable, perhaps we will have to go shopping for more.

"No cloth?" he asked, looking down at her skirt. Absent were the typical ends of the long loincloth normally worn with this sort of skirt.

She shrugged. "I've never worn undergarments, and do not intend to start now," explained Crissa. "If it offends some, they will simply have to cope, won't they?"

"You'll not hear me complain," said Wenn, grinning. "I hear many girls don't wear their cloths outwardly. They have them sewn into the skirt invisibly. They just WANT the boys to think they wear no undergarments."

Crissa bumped him with her hip. "Then the lads will have a pleasant surprise when they see up my skirt, no?" she asked.

Marrat muttered something about 'kids today' as he shuffled out of the kitchen toward the study.

Wenn and Crissa spent the next hour preparing for their first day at the Academy. Once ready, they headed for the bell tower that rose above most of Norboro. The Academy was really a small walled compound, where most of the students lived in dormitories on the campus. However, the couple found themselves surrounded by other students walking toward the entry gate. The others all wore sashes of differing colors, some white, some blue, with a precious few green and black. The sashes indicated grade, with the youngest students wearing the white ones.

They started to walk through the gate a girl, wearing a white sash, moved from beside it and intercepted them. She was shorter than Crissa by almost a head and had her hair cropped in a haircut reminiscent of Abian soldiery. "Crissa and Wenn?" she asked as she got close enough to be heard over the various people beginning to talk in little groups as they met up with friends and acquaintances upon entering the gate.

They stopped and watched her close the last few feet. "Yes," Crissa said while Wenn looked about them.

"I'm Peris," the girl said. "I've been assigned to show the two of you around and get you acquainted with the Academy." She smiled broadly at the two, but Crissa thought the smile she favored Wenn with was fractionally larger and a bit warmer, too.  

Crissa nodded. "We were worried about that," she said seriously. "We weren't even sure where to go right now."

Peris giggled. "I understand. This place can be rather daunting at first." She looked about herself at the dozens of milling folk who were slowly working their way toward the large building that formed the base for the tall bell tower. "I've got your class assignments and hours," she announced and held out two pieces of paper. "They're the same as mine, actually. That's why I was selected."

Wenn smiled at her. "I thought, perhaps, it was because you were so pretty," he said. Crissa fought back a flash of jealousy and felt a wave of pleasure come from Peris which caused her to have to clench her fists and tighten her jaw to keep from showing her dislike of the situation.

Peris blushed slightly. "Well," she said, rubbing her neck. "Thanks?" She thought a long moment. "I would have thought you two, being from the same town and all, and living in the same home. . . ." She let the thought drift off.

"We are really just friends," said Wenn hastily.

Crissa cast an askance look at Wenn and added, "Who happen to share a bed."

Peris blinked at this display of jealousy in so-called 'friends,' then shrugged. "I'll leave that for you two to discuss," she said diplomatically. "However, as I have been assigned to acquaint you two with the campus and with your classes and such. I do hope we can all be friends." She favored the two of them with a look of earnest hopefulness and Crissa felt that hope impact her mind so cleanly that she could not help but like the girl.

"I'm sure we will," said Crissa. She noted that Peris was wearing an outfit of similar cut to her own and with almost the same shade of green. "We must, for we both share the same tailor."

Peris grinned at that, eyeing Crissa's skirt and half-top. "I see that," she said.

Wenn blinked and his jaw hung slack as he watched Crissa take credit for his clothing selection, but kept his tongue still. The keeping silent was easy, especially after the caustic look Crissa flashed at him when his jaw fell open. He clamped it shut.

The shorter girl with the brown hair held out pieces of white cloth to the two of them. "Your sashes, as first year students, or the equivalent thereof," she said.

Wenn and Crissa slipped the sashes over their shoulder, as Peris wore hers. She had several small symbols embroidered upon hers, but theirs were bare. "What are those for?" asked Crissa, eyeing the little symbols.

"Awards for achievement and completion," said Peris, looking down. "That one," she pointed to one of the symbols, "was for mastering the rules of etiquette regarding titled nobility." Then she laughed. "Most of the others are for equally important things of earth-shattering moment."

She's got a sense of humor, Wenn thought, very nice.

Crissa cast him another sidelong look as she felt the low-level wave of desire emanate from Wenn, directed at Peris. She smiled inwardly at this display of unbridled emotion from her partner. Sometimes, she liked how it felt to see him desire others.

Peris escorted them to a small chamber filled with smaller desks and chairs. They peered through the cracked door. "This is mathematics studies," said Peris. "Our first class, normally, of the day." Inside, they saw a bald man, wearing spectacles pointing to a drawing upon a large black board at chalk symbols. Wenn recognized them right off, as he used them in his magical formulae. Crissa shook her head.

"I know nothing of mathematics," she said.

"That is why there is a class, to teach you," explained Peris. "It's not my strongest subject, either."

As they moved down the corridor toward another of their classes a chime rang out, and a few moments later, students in their colorful sashes began filling the halls, moving form one classroom to another. Crissa's eyes grew wide at the sight of so many folk in such a confined area and began to breathe heavily. Luckily, most were concentrating on their tasks at hand, and she was not overborne by a wave of emotion as they moved about her in a milling mass.

Two young men in black sashes stopped before the trio, smiling. "Hello, newlings," the burlier of the two said, a youth in his early twenties with light brown hair and narrow blue eyes.

Peris said, "Good morrow, Seniors Lentan and Cherle," and nodded elven-style toward them.

"Rumor has it that you newlings are responsible for Irvin and Waddens being chucked out of the Academy," the one Peris had called Lentan said. "Being sorcerers and all."

Wenn blinked. "I've no idea what you're talking about," he said.

Crissa nodded agreement. "We don't even know who those folk are."




Feldare Tales: High Society Ch. 02



"They were the lads who roughed up your little man here, Miss Witch," said the slightly smaller of the two, the one named Cherle, pointing at Wenn. "I heard they right stomped him near the market square for taking unfair advantage with his magical abilities and hurting their friend."

Peris was growing alarmed at the rather unfavorable direction this conversation was going. "Please, that's old news, Cherle, and it's not our new students' fault that Irvin and Waddens were deviants."

Cherles' face grew red with anger. "You little cu. . . ." he never finished the statement as Wenn's fist smashed into his jaw with a resounding crack.

The young man fell to the floor, writhing and holding his injured jaw. "You will keep a civil tongue, or I will rip it from your face!" screamed Wenn, shaking his hand.

Lentan balled up his fists, but found himself frozen in place by panic, then he backed away from the unknown menace that seemed to come from Crissa, who simply stared at him with angry eyes.

Peris was beside herself. "Dear me," she said, watching Cherle collect himself and use his shoulder against the wall to prop himself up as he climbed the wall. 

"I'll get you for that, you little shit," said Cherle, his voice slurred by his numb jaw. Many students had stopped their meanderings to watch the little drama unfold, though none seemed eager to intervene on one side or the other.

The two upper classmen backed away from the trio and then walked down the corridor and the watchers wandered off, as well, the show being over.

Peris turned to Wenn. "By the One, you're quick with that punch," she said, her tone fluttering slightly with admiration.

Crissa nodded. "Yes, only twenty minutes into our first day of schooling and you're already making new friends," she said with dripping sarcasm.

"Why waste time with formalities?" said Wenn, still shaking his hand, he feared he may have broken something in his hand or wrist, but did not care much. Peris was impressed, and that mattered more than a minor injury.

"You do know that Cherle is the son of a duke, don't you?" asked Peris.

"Is he the son of the duke of Morrovale?" asked Wenn in return.

Peris smiled. "No."

"Then I don't care," said Wenn, letting his self-regard inflate his chest.

Wenn had dropped his small ledger as he threw the punch and Crissa bent to pick it up. A wave of desire hit her with enough force to nearly knock her over. She spun about, expecting to see one of the other students taking advantage of the view up her skirt. Only Wenn and Peris stood behind her and Wenn was looking at Peris. 

Peris, on the other hand, was looking at her.

Crissa knew that there were girls that were attracted to other girls, but that was the first time she had been lusted after by one directly. It felt different from most men's lust, subtler, and maybe hungrier. Unsure herself at her own feelings toward this new aspect of desire, Crissa dismissed it for now, deciding that she could explore it further later.

The remainder of the morning was spent going from place to place, learning where there classes were held and upon what days they would attend each. She showed them the auditorium and the library, which was extensive, but lacked the sort of texts that would truly interest Wenn, though Crissa was duly impressed.

She even showed them the dormitories, where most of the students housed. Even though they would, of course, be living with Marrat while coming to the Academy every other day.

"You're lucky," said Peris as they left the dormitories. "You two don't have to do the rather odious chores that the staff cooks up on the off days."

Crissa barked a laugh, replying, "No, only the chores that Master Marrat cooks up, like a master chef, every day."

Wenn nodded agreement. "Yes, he's changed the location of his privy three times, at a cost to my arms."

She was escorting them down a long, narrow alleyway between two buildings of the campus, which then debauched on a green way. There were suddenly trees about them and a lush lawn. "What's this?" asked Crissa, smiling.

"The Commons," replied Peris with a wide smile. "It's where we students can get away and relax, after hours, of course. The staff hardly ever comes here."

It was a lovely park, well-tended and quite pretty. It ran for a ways, then met the village's wall. "I like it," said Crissa. Wenn simply nodded in agreement.

They walked the park for a few minutes before Peris said, "We should go to the dining hall, it is nearing lunch."

The three entered the large room just as the first wave of students were also entering the vast expanse of tables and benches. Platters of food were already set out on the tables, sensible if somewhat bland foods.

The three of them ate together as several students, also in white sashes came up and exchanged greeting with Peris and were introduced to Crissa and Wenn. Between two such introductions, Peris said, "They want to meet the newlings, but don't wish to seem overeager. I've not shared ten words with some of these folk."

The two 'newlings' laughed at that and they all bussed their table and left the dining hall. "As you can see, we often leave campus for food, though. It nourishes, but doesn't feed the desire to taste something other than shoe leather."

They were passing a privy and Crissa excused herself. As she moved off Peris looked at Wenn. "Are you two really lovers?" she asked.

Wenn nodded. "Of a sort, yes," he admitted. "I won't lie to you."

She smiled. "I'm glad of that. But you say of a sort, what does that mean?"

A slightly dark look overtook Wenn's features. "It means we are free to - enjoy - the company of others, as well."

"What a delightfully convenient arrangement," said Peris, smiling broadly.

Wenn's own mood improved vastly at her favorable reaction. "Do you have a partner?" asked Wenn.

"Me? Heavens no," said Peris, blushing.

"Sorry," said Wenn, "I just assumed you were too pretty to be unaccounted for."

She blushed deeper red, almost crimson. "You're a sweet-tongued young man, Wenn, I will be keeping an eye out for your ploys. Boys like you get girls into trouble."

A look of wounded innocence crossed over Wenn's features. "I've never," he said, protesting.

She giggled. "You already told me you have, that you and Crissa have been lovers and are still, at times."

Crissa walked up to the pair. "Did I miss anything interesting?" she asked, eyeing the pair with mock suspicion.

Peris' expression took on a fleeting fearful look, then settled down when she realized the look was in jest. Crissa noted it, however, and felt the little wash of worry flood out of the girl. She did not wish to embarrass this young woman, though, and rather liked her.

The three walked back to the Commons and found a shaded spot beneath a tree to sit. They sat in a small circle talking about the school and about other matters that they found interesting. Crissa was sitting with her back to a small boulder and her legs toward the other two. She wondered if she had been right about Peris earlier, and lifted her legs a little, giving the other girl a view up her skirt if she were to look.

She looked, and Crissa felt a fresh wave of desire and interest flow over her from the girl. Alarmingly, Crissa also felt her own body responding to the emotional flood. Confused, the young apprentice let her legs lie flat again and regarded Peris as her eyes slowly drifted up from her long legs. She was not staring, but she did watch closely. I've better warn Wenn, she thought. Then she felt a fresh flow of lust from Peris, and this was directed at Wenn. I definitely need to tell Wenn, she amended.

"Would you mind that?" asked Peris, looking at Crissa, breaking her from her reverie.

"Hmm? Sorry, I was daydreaming," said Crissa, blinking and looking from Peris to Wenn and back. 

Wenn said, "I invited her to the house for dinner."

"Of course I don't mind," said Crissa, breaking out her best smile. "You're more than welcome. Should we wait for you after classes or give you directions?"

Peris smiled. "I will simply come with you two as you leave, if you don't mind."

"Great," said Wenn, beaming.

They attended a LONG lecture on Westron history that afternoon and Crissa had to nudge Wenn awake twice during the droning of the lecturer. The torment of yawns finally ceased, though, and they were released until the day after tomorrow.

"By the One, that was a dull lesson," said Wenn as they exited the gate and turned toward Marrat's home.

Peris and Crissa giggled and agreed heartily. "Your snoring was more entertaining," said Peris.

Crissa's eyes flashed with realization. "Peris? Who are your parents?" she asked.

Peris regarded her a long moment. "My father is the baron of Westfold," she said, in a tone that indicated it was not bragging. "But don't hold that against me, while students, we don't enjoy the benefits of our titles." Her tone was almost apologetic.

Westfold was a small realm lying west of Morrovale. Much smaller, but not insignificant, and had been a on-again, off-again ally of the duchy for the last fifty years. 

"Our parents are commoners, mine are farmers, and Wenn's are tanners," said Crissa.

"Perhaps," said Peris, "but you two are also apprentice wizards, and that counts for much. For one day, you will both be wizards, wielding great magics." Her expression turned sour. "I will be wed off to some other nobleman, to seal some agreement, or achieve one. I would do much to become a wizard and have no man's domination on me."

Crissa felt a sudden pang of pity for the poor girl. To be so cheerful in the face of what seemed to be a enslavement of wealth. "Perhaps your husband will be one who you will love?" asked Crissa.

Peris nodded. "It could be so, I suppose," she said. "Though, holding out hope for such may well lead to more disappointment later."

They reached Marrat's home and Wenn held the door for the two young ladies. Peris gave him a wink as she walked by, and a tiny fraction of a smile. Wenn's reaction to that bit of flirting sent out a signal that bounced off the back of Crissa's mind like a sling stone. She glanced back to see Peris smiling at her in return.

Marrat bellowed from the study. "Are you two hoodlums back?"

"Yes, Master Marrat," said Wenn, smiling, "and we have company."

The old wizard walked through the doorway to the study and regarded the young lady. "Lady Perissen," he said, bowing slightly, "a pleasure to meet you."

Peris giggled. "Thank you, Master Marrat," she said, "though, I am amazed you know my name."

Marrat smiled broadly. "It is a wizard's business to know many things, milady," he explained.

Wenn opened his mouth to speak, but a quick, warning glance from Marrat stopped him.

"Please don't be so formal with me, Master Marrat," said Peris, "I seek not genuflection."

The old wizard's eyes widened. "Genuflection," he said, "the Academy does teach you young nobles well, for certain." He thought for a moment. "Well, I can just double up your chores tomorrow, off you two go, entertain your guest, then," he finally said, flapping his hands in the air.

Wenn and Crissa did not hesitate to escape his view before Marrat changed his mind and found 'one little thing' for them to do. They bounded up the stairs with the energy only the young can muster, taking them three at a time, with wind to spare for laughter and giggles.

They reached their turret room and Crissa ushered them in. Though the tower at the Academy was the tallest building in town, Marrat's home was one of the few at the taller end, and the view from the many large windows was spectacular from up here, overlooking the village on one side and the countryside south of Norboro on the other. Crissa liked to think that one of the indistinct smudges on the horizon to the south was the small wood near her family's farmstead, though she could not be certain.

Peris looked about and gasped. "Which of you has such a lovely view?" she asked.

Wenn and Crissa gave each other a uncomfortable look, and Crissa nodded to Wenn.

"We both do," said Wenn. "As we said, we share a bed."

Peris looked at the two of them with wide eyes. "I thought you simply meant you occasionally dallied with one another," she said. "You really share a bed nightly? Like married folk?"

They both nodded slowly, a slight tinge of worry in their eyes. They both sought to not upset or scandalize their new friend, for very different reasons.

She smiled brightly. "You two are so lucky," said Peris. "To both have a lover that allows you other lovers?"

Crissa and Wenn looked at each other again, and Crissa nodded minutely.

Wenn smiled. "Sometimes it's not quite so fun, you know," he said. "We do, on occasion, get jealous of each other."

Peris stared at him for a long moment. "I would imagine," she said.

"We don't pretend it's an easy relationship to maintain, nor even tolerate, sometimes," Crissa added. "But we have little choice." She looked out at the clock tower on the town hall. "I must go to make supper, it is my chore this day."

Peris watched her leave, then turned to Wenn. "What's it like being intimate with someone regularly?" she asked.

Wenn stammered a moment, rather shocked by the sudden loss of the safety Crissa's presence had maintained. "Well, it's nice, I must admit," he said. "But it's not world-altering." He thought about that last statement a moment. "Well, I suppose it is world-altering, actually."

The young noblewoman giggled. "I thought so," she said. "I envy you two your freedom."

"We're not so terribly free," said Wenn. "Marrat keeps us plenty busy."

She touched his arm. "I mean in being with other folk than those that your family chooses for you," said Peris. "My father would disown me if I lost my virginity to anyone but the man he chooses to be my husband."

Wenn touched put his hand over hers. "I hate that for you, Peris," he said. "It sounds horrible."

She gave him a weak smile. "Not really horrible, just frustrating." She met his eyes and put much meaning into her expression. "As I would rather give my innocence to the young man of my own choosing."

Wenn felt his breath catch in his throat. "I. I can understand that," he said.

Peris let her smile bloom to full growth. "I wish you did," she said. "It's infuriating when you wish to have someone and cannot be close to them."

"Do you have someone in mind that you're sweet on?" asked Wenn.

"No, not really," she said, though again, her eyes came around to regard him. "Though, it is possible, I've recently met a boy who may be more than suitable."



Feldare Tales: High Society Ch. 03



As usual, Crissa's cooking, while uninspired, was of high quality and large quantity. Old Marrat, as often as not, took his meals in his study, and this evening, he did, as well, leaving the three young folks to the small kitchen table. Crissa sat across from Peris, wedging the unfortunate Wenn between them.

"What is it like being wizards?" asked Peris, looking from one apprentice to the other, her Hazel eyes darting between them.

Crissa coughed slightly into a hastily clutched napkin and Wenn smiled weakly. "We're not both wizards, technically," he explained. "I am studying wizardry, but my dear Crissa is studying mentalism."

Peris' eyes narrowed slightly. "There's a difference?" she asked.

The blond girl giggled. "Very much so," she said. "Wenn's powers are learned by formula, mine are inborn. I don't cast ‘spells' per se."

The noble's daughter thought a moment. "You're a sorceress?" she asked.

Crissa's eyes fell slightly. "Yes, you could call me that."

"I won't though," pronounced Peris. "I know most who bear that name are dark creatures."

A smile came to Crissa's lips. "Thank you," she said.

They ate in silence for long moments. "What sort of natural powers do you have?" asked Peris, finally.

"I hesitate to say freely, Peris," said Crissa. "Many would grow uncomfortable around me if they knew. I will say that I foresee things on the occasion, and that I can sometimes make people act slightly against their nature."

"You can charm?" asked Peris, her entire face becoming animated.

Crissa laughed heartily, even Wenn smiled some. "Far from that," she said. "I can put one little piece of an emotion into a person's head that was not there, or amplify one that is. I cannot even do any emotion, only a few of them."

"Like?" pressed Peris, obviously determined to see how far she could pry into Crissa's mind.

"Well, let's see," said Crissa, "hunger, fear, anger, lust, trust. Maybe a few more, by combining those."

Peris thought for another long moment. "Then you did put those two lads up to buggery in the town square!" she declared, her face suffused with mirth. "They were asses, and probably deserved every dram of derision that befell them."

Crissa blushed deep crimson. "I overstepped my place," she said quietly. "Please do not spread it about."

The expression on Peris' face grew serious in an instant. "I won't, promise."

"Thanks again," said the apprentice sorceress. "It would cause me no end of grief if it were known I could perform such subtle manipulations."

Wenn smiled at the two young women. "I have finally learned a spell with some flair," he announced, hoping to bring the conversation back to happier things.

The young noblewoman's eyes turned to him. "And what is that, young wizard?" she asked.

With a few words, he lifted his hand above the edge of the table, and a glowing orb of light appeared in it. He held it before his face, the light casting odd shadows then blew it toward Peris. It wafted toward her, like a soap bubble, bobbing and weaving with the air currents.

Peris giggled in delight at it came near to her. "May I touch it?" she asked.

"There's a question Wenn loves to hear," observed Crissa, smiling.

Wenn flicked his eyes toward Crissa, winking mischievously at her. "Of course, take it, it isn't so frail as it seems."

Peris reached out, and touched the glowing sphere, it tried to move from the air currents from her hand, but she managed to catch it with her slender fingertips. "It's quite hard," she observed. Crissa and Wenn both broke out in laughter, immediately followed by Peris as she caught her own double-meaning.

Marrat meandered through the kitchen as they finished their laughter and dropped his plate and fork into the washbasin. He raised one bushy eyebrow at the snickering youths and continued on back into the study.

Crissa had been keeping her mind guarded against emotional feedback most of the evening, wishing to give her companions privacy of their thoughts. However, she was still new to the art, and as she giggled, her control slipped for a short time. Again, she felt a powerful wash of desire for her. It came, still, from Peris. This made her very nervous, for she did not think she desired the company of other women. Peris was also desirous of Wenn, and that she decided to work with, rather than let the girl's liking of her bloom into something she could never reciprocate.

The three cleared up their dishes after the tubers and mutton, then headed up to their tower room again. This time, however, Crissa led them further up a folding ladder onto the roof. Atop their room was a flat expanse of wood, with high crenelating about it. It was one of her favorite places. The view upward was uninterrupted by other structures, and the stars glimmered down upon them.

Light still flowed from Peris' hand, where she clutched the little globe. "How long will it last?" she asked Wenn.

"Perhaps three or four days," he said. "I will make you another if you wish it."

She giggled. "It's really neat to hold a ball of light," said Peris, holding it out at arm's length, then dropping it. It slowly descended toward the roof, wafting about in the currents of the outdoor breezes. She deftly snatched it out of the air, holding it beneath her chin, casting inverted shadows upon her pretty face. "I wish to see more of your powers, both of you, if you would."

Crissa jumped at the opportunity, thinking to nip the matter of the girl's attraction to her in the bud. "I can show you mine, but you must be warned that I will not be responsible for your actions."

The young noblewoman smiled. "Okay,' she said, looking at Crissa. Even with her mind somewhat blocked, she felt the waves of desire flowing from Peris.

"Very well, I will use Wenn as my test subject," said Crissa, sitting upon the wooden rooftop and crossing her legs. "You two sit facing one another."

Wenn flashed her a slightly worried look, then caught her wink toward him. He sat slowly, following Peris' lead, who was already eagerly sitting and looking up at him with her large green-brown eyes and a larger smile.

"Look into one another's eyes," instructed Crissa, opening her mind fully and reaching forth with it. She brushed against Peris' mind, a mind of chaotic thoughts and turmoil loomed there. On the other side, she touched Wenn's ever more disciplined mind. It was regimented and growing more so by the day, she found. She liked the tidiness of his thoughts and memories.

Sifting through Peris' thoughts, she found one of Wenn. She traced it back along braided filaments to the seat of her attractions. Seeing herself there was disconcerting, once again, and she purposely did not look too closely, and only peripherally saw the varied fantasies that already nestled within those desires. Wenn's orderly mind she knew well, and immediately found the seat of his desires. There she was pleased to see herself, and memories of her own smiles and moans of pleasure. She found an image flickering of Peris, though, as she knew she would.

Grabbing the image of Wenn in Peris' mind and the image of Peris in Wenn's mind, she pulled them forth to the front and stretched them large. Any blemishes or things they saw which they found unappealing she blotted out or subtly changed to make each the very picture of something to be desired to one another.

It took longer to think of what she was doing than to do it. In an instant, to both the others on the roof, their worlds shrank down to a point, at the center of each's point was the other. She smiled as the expression on Peris' face became softer and her eyes started to glitter. Wenn's expression, too, became that of a smitten young man. Right now, to each other's eyes, each was the most beautiful person they had ever seen, and in this instant, would ever see.

Crissa, in a small way, wished the effect were permanent. People seemed so happy when they became besotted with another. It was fleeting though, a few hours at most, if she chose to let it slip away of its own accord. She could reinforce it, but it became progressively harder to do so over time, eventually reaching a point of diminishing returns that left her exhausted and the two subjects of her powers completely resistant to her for many days.

Wenn tentatively reached out a hand and touched Peris' cheek. "So beautiful," he said, softly, knowing he was ensorcled did not stop it being his truth for now.

She cooed at the touch and touched his cheek as well. He kissed her palm as it came into reach. Peris sighed at the kiss and leaned toward Wenn, his lips came up from the palm and met hers as she approached. A long, slow embrace followed, each of them pressing together from their knees to their lips, where they had risen from the timbers of the roof.

The little globe of light rolled in the breezes upon the rooftop, forgotten and neglected, casting odd shadows about as it bounced over the uneven boards. Crissa had thought she might feel jealousy actually watching Wenn kiss another girl, but found she did not, on the contrary, she was quite enjoying the sight of her lover taking pleasure in another.

Peris' hand slipped down between them and moved over his pants. Wenn pulled his hips back a little and she gripped his erection. Glancing down Peris said, "I've never touched a manhood before. Leastwise since I've been grown."

The demonstration had gone far enough, Crissa decided. Still she was not envious, simply did not wish Peris to embarrass herself afterward, nor blame Crissa for letting it go too far.

Slowly, to avoid shocking their minds, she untethered the perfected images of one another and let them fade away. In a moment, Peris pulled back from Wenn, smiling coyly and still holding his organ. "Oh, my, but that's a power, to be sure," she said, releasing his stiff member and blushing a dark crimson.

Wenn grinned at her. "I've to put up with her doing that all the time," he explained. "Not that I mind."

Crissa smiled and sat back on her haunches. "How far would you have gone, Peris, had I not stopped?"

Peris looked at her levelly. "I'd have given myself to him, fully," she said, "father be damned." She shook her head, sending her short cropped hair flying, then looked at Crissa again. "That's a terrible and wondrous power you have, Crissa."

The sorceress nodded. "Which is why I beg you to not to speak of it to others," she said.

"I will not, to be certain," said Peris, looking at the hand that had been gripping Wenn's shaft. "I cannot believe I became so emboldened."

Wenn chuckled. "She did not release the half of what she could," he said.

Peris' eyes grew round. "You can do more than that?" she asked.

"Much," said Crissa, though her eyes were looking at the orb of light. "I do not wish to unleash that upon you, though."

They sat quietly for a long moment again. "May I come back on the morrow?" asked Peris. "I know you two do not attend the academy then, but I wish to visit."

The briefest flicker of glances went between Wenn and Crissa. "Yes, we'd like that," said Wenn, rising and offering the two young women a hand to their feet.

"It grows late, and they will be securing the dormitory soon," said Peris, looking toward the distant clock tower and collecting her light sphere.

"We will walk you there," said Crissa.

- - - - - - - - - -

Peris walked a short distance from the entry to the dorms with Crissa. "I'm amazed at your abilities, Crissa," she said. "I can't believe with but a though from you, I kissed and grabbed a man's parts."

Crissa giggled. "As you said, more could have happened, but I'd not do that to a friend."

"Unless I wished it?" asked the young noblewoman.

Crissa blinked a few times. "Why would you wish it, but be unable to do it without my help?"

Peris shrugged. "Just a thought. Good night, Crissa." With that, she leaned inward and kissed Crissa's cheek, then they returned to Wenn and she gave the young man a brief hug. "Good night, Wenn, see you tomorrow." Then she entered the massive bronze-sheathed doors into the dormitory.

The two started to walk back to Marrat's home. "What did you think of her?" asked Crissa.

"I think you almost let us go too far," said Wenn, a touch sourly.

Crissa took his hand, and brought it to her lips. "I'm sorry, lover," she whispered. "Would it help if I said I took pleasure in seeing the two of you together?"

Wenn blinked at her. "Did you?" he asked.

The apprentice sorceress said, "It was actually rather arousing to see two others in that state, perhaps my control isn't so fine as I thought and I felt some backlash."

The young man nodded. "Perhaps that's it," he said, sounding rather unconvinced.

They moved closer together and put their arms about one another, their paces matching and walking in step. "I love you, Wenn," whispered Crissa.

The apprentice wizard smiled and said words, summoning another little glowing orb to his fingertips. As Crissa's eyes glittered in the reflected light of the ball, he changed it to the blushing red of a rose, or more ominously, blood. "And I love you, beautiful Crissa," he said.

She took the orb from him and kissed it. The red highlighted her features in stark contrasts of red and black. For the briefest of moments, she was both lovely and frightening, her blue eyes turned violet and the whites crimson. Though he recovered quickly, Crissa saw a look of slight dismay upon Wenn's features.

"What?" she asked.

Wenn chuckled. "Red isn't your color."

She smiled and held the ball out to him. "Then turn it ‘my' color, my lover."

He took it and with a single word, it changed to golden, like her hair. She smiled as she took it from him again and kissed the new color. This time no phantoms jumped from behind a mask of beauty at Wenn, and her smile was simply beautiful.

"Much better," he declared.

- - - - - - - - - -

Wenn lay beside Crissa, wiggling his toes up at the ceiling. "Where'd you learn that trick?" he asked. "I've never had a girl put a finger up there before."

With a giggle, Crissa said, "Let a girl have her secrets, darling."

He sighed contentedly, smiling at the beautiful blond beside him. "You're so lovely, and need no glamor to be so."

"Easily said after you've taken me," said Crissa, smiling gently and toying with the glowing orb of golden light. "If but I were a real wizard. I could create little wonders like this light." She held it over her mouth and blew it upward and watched it descend toward her waiting fingers again, slowly bobbing and quivering on the warmth that came off her body.

Leaning up on one elbow, Wenn said, "Don't envy my powers, Crissa, for yours are greater, subtler, and far more worth respect."

Crissa held up the orb. "Don't give yourself short shrift, Wenn. I was born with these abilities, you worked hard and became able to manipulate magic by sheer force of will. I'm more than impressed."

Wenn leaned over and kissed her and she dropped the orb, returning his embrace. Slowly, and gently, they began making love again.

- - - - - - - - - -

"I would advise you, Senior Lentan, to move aside," said Peris, glaring for all she was worth at the young man over a foot taller than she.

The tall youth chuckled. "Or what?" he said. "You're little wizard boyfriend will punch me?"

"Wenn might just do that," she said, "though I wager he could do far worse to the likes of you."

Lentan had caught her off campus, on her way to Marrat's house. There would be no faculty to stop him accosting her, she knew. It annoyed her that he would do so within sight of the old wizard's home, and yet she would get no help from passers by, not with Lentan being a nephew of the very Duke of Morrovale. Cherle's father may not pull much weight, so far from his domain, but Lentan's uncle certainly did.

The young nobleman laughed at her. "With any luck, perhaps your father will promise you to me, then I could show you what a man does," he said, menacingly. "I think I will write my father this very night about a girl who has caught my eye."

A clutching at her heart caused her to wince. "No," she said. She had no doubt the spoiled brat of Lentan would have his way if he were to write his father such a note. Her father was very old, and should he die, the man who married her would stand to become the heir, as he had no sons. No doubt, the cunning Baron Wennerlan, Lentan's father, would happily wed his son off to her to position Lentan to become the Baron of Westfold.

He snickered at her now. "Yes, I see that my plan is a good one," said Lentan. He eyed her figure in the elven-cut dress she had worn to impress Wenn and, only half-known to herself, Crissa. You would make a fine wife to press forth several young strapping lads from my loins." He paused for a long moment, eyeing her long, slender legs. "Why are you dressed like that? And off to see your wizard, no doubt." He glanced toward Marrat's house. "Well, no matter, I wouldn't want you for your pristine cherry, only your title and lands, and that you pop out my pups for me. So, if you wish it, lie with the little whelp of a finger-wiggler, if you like. I am not a jealous man."

The callous and base words struck her like a blow and she stepped back, as if staggering. "You know, Lentan, many barons and lords die of poisoned sweetmeats laid out before them by their ever so loving wives." She smiled at him sweetly. "Did you know I got high marks in culinary arts? I would insist on making the meals for my beloved husband by mine own two hands, so that he knows the full measure of my adoration."

"We'll see if, after a long honey moon night, if you still can harbor anything but true respect for your lord," said Lentan, turning stiffly and rejoining Churle, who had waited a half-dozen paces away.

She sighed in relief as he walked away. That he might just write such a missive to his father worried her greatly. Many youths spotted their future wives at the academy, which was half the reason to send one's daughter to that place. She plodded on toward Marrat's home, hearing vaguely the snickering of the two upperclassmen as she walked stiffly. She kept her head up, though tears fell from her hazel eyes. With forced casualness, she ascended the short stairs to the front door of the house. Being witnessed by those two hooligans would not allow her to use the traditional kitchen entrance, for she knew they would have words in the future to say of that.

Crissa opened the door a few moments after she clacked the brass knocker against the plate. One look at the tear-filled eyes of the girl caused her to grab her and pull her into the house.

Crissa was dressed in a more normal peasant skirt and blouse. "What happened?" she asked, sitting Peris in a chair in the anteroom.

"That bastard Lentan scared me is all," said the young noblewoman.

The eyes of the apprentice sorceress hardened. "Do you wish me to deal with it?" she asked, then was nearly knocked over backward as a wave of desire struck her from Peris. The younger girl's eyes smouldered at her.

"If only you could," said Peris, her hand touching Crissa's long, golden hair. "I fear Lentan is too closely related to the duke to be thrown out of the school, even for a gross indiscretion."

Crissa was still clearing that desire from her mind as she sat quietly and listened to the girl rant. "He says now he will ask for my hand, and then use me harshly to bear his heirs," said Peris, tears beginning anew.

Wenn came into the anteroom. "I thought I heard talking," he said, a small grin upon his lips. Then he, too caught the look in the young woman's eyes. "What's wrong?"

Crissa stood and moved to sit upon the couch opposite the noblewoman. "Peris had a run in with one of the seniors from yesterday. He's threatening to talk their fathers into marrying her to him."




Feldare Tales: High Society Ch. 03



A look of horror crossed Wenn's face. "Not if I can help it," he said, his own eyes hardening in a manner almost identical to what Crissa's had. Again, the sorceress felt desire flow from the girl, toward Wenn this time. A passionate creature, she thought, watching Peris' eyes flickering over Wenn as he stood in the doorway, fuming.

Peris giggled, a hollow sound. "If you were highborn, you might could stop it, by sacrificing yourself to that cause," she said. "Assuming he's serious, though I've no doubt he is considering it."

"I know that your feelings are secondary in such matters," said Crissa, "but surely, they account for some portion of the decision."

With a shrug, Peris said, "Oh, certainly, in a instance of one young nobleman over another, it would, but I've not been asked for of yet. I have something of a reputation as a bit of a shrew, something many young highborn are loathe to take on in a wife."

"Then we'll just get another young nobleman to ask for you, one you approve of," said Crissa, as if it were like hanging out linen. "I can easily make one fall for you, you know."

Peris giggled. "I don't think that a good option," she said. "Despite they will marry me off at my age, they will not marry off a young man until he's eighteen or more, usually." She looked into the middle distance. "There are no upperclassmen I find appealing, most of them are spoiled like Lentan."

"Such a thing would not last long enough, anyway, Crissa," said Wenn reasonably. "Do you really think he will ask for you?"

Another shrug from Peris was his reply.

Marrat's voice came filtering in from the study, he was calling for both Wenn and Crissa. They excused themselves hastily and trotted to the study.

Old Marrat was ensconced behind his reading podium. "Boy, girl, you listen now, and listen well," he said, his voice uncharacteristically hard. "You don't get to meddling in the affairs of nobles. There's an uneasy truce between the highborn and the practitioners of the arts. Without that, we would be persecuted and they would be assassinated and neither would know a moment's peace." He peered around the podium at the two as they hung their heads down. "Heed me in this. I'm fond of Peris, also, she's a sweet girl. But I'd not have you two branded as troublemakers by the nobility before your apprenticeship is even finished."

"Yes, Master Marrat," they said in unison.

"You'll learn subtlety in time. Only by that means may things be rectified that are truly wrong. You cannot use your powers to correct all the evils of the world." Marrat looked at them again. "Subtlety is your art, even more than the gifts you both have." He finally returned his gaze to the tome before him. "Go see to your young guest, and remember what I've said."

The two apprentices walked back to the anteroom, where Peris was still sitting on the short couch. "Please don't do anything that might cause you trouble," she pleaded.

Crissa and Wenn looked at one another a moment, then smiled. "Seems that advice is quite popular this day," said Wenn.

The young noblewoman stood up and kissed Wenn's cheek. "I am flattered that you seek to redress this issue for me, really, but you must not act against Lentan." She looked at the floor with worried eyes. "Some that have crossed him have had – accidents."

"I think Lentan will find me quite unprone to such accidents," said Wenn, his back stiffening.

Crissa snickered. "You should see him practicing a new spell, he needs no help with accidentally killing himself," she said.

The young wizard aimed a playful poke at Crissa's ribs, causing her to giggle more as he prodded her under her arm. "Not all of us are perfect," he said.

A toss of her head sent her golden hair flying over her shoulder. "I know, I am simply divine," she said. "You may kiss my pinkie ring." She held up an unadorned pinkie finger while tilting her head back and peering down her nose at Wenn.

Peris laughed at the display of the two. "You two really are good together," she said. "I envy you both."

The ‘both' did not escape Crissa's notice, though she did not react to it. "Next you come to visit, we will come gather you from the dormitory," said the sorceress. "That should at least give young Lord Lentan pause before accosting you again."

Peris smiled. "Yes, it would," she said, "he was always watchful of this house as he spoke to me. No doubt he feared one of you would emerge and turn him into a toad."

A thoughtful look overtook Wenn's face. "Transmutation, hmm?" he said quitely. "I've not thought to study that yet, but I easily could." He broke into a florid smile. "No, I'll not waste essence on such a thing when a swift punch to the nose will have a more telling effect."

"Cherle is a coward, Lentan is another sort," said Peris. "Don't underestimate him, he may well challenge you for such an affront. He is a skilled swordsman, as well." Her expression was now very concerned. "I would not have you hurt in my defence."

They enjoyed one another's company for the afternoon, the three chatting happily about various subjects from their academy on the morrow to more of the differences between Wenn's spellcasting and Crissa's powers.

Finally, though, Peris declared that it was time to go back to the dormitory. As they approached the dormitory, Crissa suddenly remembered that she needed to fetch some bread for the house. "I will be right back," she announced and took off down the street at a jog.

Peris stood nervously before the great bronze-clad doors of the dormitory. "I think she wanted to leave us alone," she said.

Wenn nodded agreement and smiled at her. "Probably." He cast his eyes down the street toward where Crissa had disappeared around the corner.

"You really do love her, don't you?" asked Peris, her eyes soft with kindness.

A look of something akin to misery came over Wenn's face. "Yes, Peris, I do," he said.

The young noblewoman leaned inward and kissed his cheek. "I'll not confuse the issue, then," she said.

A slight look of alarm overtook the miserable look on Wenn's features. "No, wait, that's not at all it," he said. "You're not a confusion, you're a friend, and a very pretty friend, I might add."

She blushed slightly at the generous words. "Then why do you hesitate to kiss me?"

Wenn grabbed her about the waist and pulled her to him, then kissed her soundly. She pressed against him and folded into his arms, entwining his neck with hers. A soft moan escaped her as they kissed deeply.

The door to the dormitory opened and Lentan's long, narrow face peered out. "Imagine that, my soon to be promised in the arms of a sorcerer!" he exclaimed, his face twisting into a mocking look of anger.

Peris gasped and stepped back from Wenn, pulling free of his arms. "Lentan, you will never wed me," she said.

The senior stepped toward Wenn, however, ignoring her. "You perverse enchanter, what have you done to my beloved?" he screamed. Faces began appearing in windows along the front of the dormitory. Wenn gave back a step, confused and worried as to how to handle this situation.

Lentan's hand curled into a fist and it began a trajectory toward Wenn's midriff. A single word barked from Wenn and his own arm came down, shimmering with a blue halo. It moved with a unnatural speed to block the incoming punch and Wenn spoke another word. From his right side, a red pulse flashed and his right fist shot forth, leaving a flickering afterimage on the eyes of all viewing it. The fist smashed into Lentan's chest, sending him stumbling back toward the doors. He regained his footing and leered at the boy. "I accept your challenge, sorcerer!" he said. "At midnight then!"

"What?" asked Wenn, blinking at the senior.

"You have offended my honor by fighting me with magics, I demand redress," said Lentan. "Furthermore, I accuse you of sullying this fine girl, using your powers to sway her mind and seduce her."

There were now students in the doorway and both doors were open. Several other upperclassmen chuckled at Wenn's dilemma and several folk in the front rank gasped at the accusation.

"He has not ensorcled me," said Peris, standing straight and glaring at Lentan.

Lentan chuckled. "Naturally, those under the sway of a sorcerer would not know of it," he said, negligently. "But as my promised, I will protect your honor and virtue."

Crissa came up at a sprint. "What the hell is going on here?" she asked, grabbing Wenn by his shoulder.

"The sorcerer's accomplice returns," said Lentan, "she's already ensorcled two of our students with her wicked powers." He pointed an accusing finger at Crissa.

Other students were pouring from the dormitory now, and forming into a wide circle upon the steps and out into the street. There were nods and murmurs of agreement among the crowd, and a few cheers. "Kill the sorcerer!" was shouted from somewhere in the back of the crowd.

Crissa's eyes widened. "Wenn, get out of here!" she screamed over the growing volume of the crowd. She grabbed Peris' arm, but Lentan did the same, with her other arm. "No, witch, release her," he yelled. "You've damaged him enough with your unholy woman-loving embrace."

Both Peris and Crissa turned toward Lentan. Crissa's eyes were disbelieving and Peris' were shocked and fearful. "You bastard, you read my journal," said Peris in a whisper.

The crowd moved forward in a small surge from one side. Crissa's expression changed from disbelief to fear. "Wenn, run!" she exclaimed as a stone came hurtling from the crowd and hit him in the shoulder. She looked toward the crowd blocking the street and let forth her mind, projecting images of each of them being trampled under the iron-shod hooves of warhorses, and their bodies being broken. They gave back, screaming in terror as their own deaths flashed before their eyes. Lentan jerked upon Peris' arm and she came loose of Crissa's fingers.

The sorceress ran, fleeing the steps and into the street, with Wenn right behind her. Another stone glanced off her ear, hurting mightily and cutting the cup. "At the glade at midnight, sorcerer, or you best leave this city," called Lentan after them, laughing.

Peris screamed something that got lost in the furor of cheers and catcalls from the assembled students.

- - - - - - - - - -

"You're very lucky that this is all you got from a mob," said Marrat, gently rubbing woundwort oil onto Crissa's ear. "I warned you not to meddle with the young noble wolflings."

Wenn turned on him. "You put us in a position to be exposed to their teeth, Marrat," he accused. "We were happy just learning our arts and doing chores for you, master."

Marrat chuckled as he capped the little vial. "I'm sure you were, lad," he said, "but you cannot go through life simply avoiding troubles. I had hoped you would find your way about them without your arts." The old man closed his eyes and sighed. "I should have waited another year. You two were not yet ready for this." He turned his painfully insightful gaze upon Wenn. "You will not meet Lentan in the glade, will you?"

Wenn thought a moment. "I have to," he said.

Her eyes were large as Crissa turned toward him. "Did you hear nothing, Wenn?" she said, her voice cracking with emotion. "Lentan will kill you if you don't use your magic, and the crowd will rip you apart if you do. You will not be allowed to win, even if you best him honestly, they will say you used your magics."

Marrat nodded slowly. "Nature of the beast, I'm afraid," he said. "Men do not trust that which they cannot themselves manipulate."

"What should I do then?" asked Wenn. "I cannot return to the academy having refused to meet a challenge."

The old wizard nodded. "This is true, at least for now." 

They all three looked toward Marrat's gnomish clock, which stood in the corner of the study. It was eleven-thirty. "I don't know what to do master," said Wenn.

Crissa stood and put her hands on Wenn's shoulders. "I don't think there's anything we can do." Her eyes turned with a somewhat haunted look to Marrat. "When did being blessed with gifts of the One become a curse?"

"Like a sword, your gifts have two edges," said Marrat, "and also like a sword, it is woefully unsuited to some uses."

There was a loud hammering on the front door. Marrat rose from his stool before the large sitting chair. "I will get this one, apprentices," he said.

He walked slowly toward the door, his expression one of slight resignation. Crissa and Wenn stood in the doorway of the study and watched him as he thumbed the latch.

A deep masculine voice came from outside. "Is Wenn of Morrovale present?" he asked.

"Yes, captain Mandran, he is," replied Marrat, looking rather shocked. "May I ask your business with him?"

"Of course, Master Marrat," said the captain. "He is accused of the murder of Lord Lentan, son of Baron Wennerlan."



Feldare Tales: High Society Ch. 04



" " ' ' Wenn stood, looking blankly at the guards. "What?" he asked.

"Sir, we must make you arrest," said the guardsman. He held a three foot rod of some strangely dark metal. "Let us not make a scene of it."

Wenn and Crissa both cringed away from the almost hostile emanations of the staff. By sight other than normal light, they could see malevolence about it. It hated magic, and disliked mages, even without anything magical about.

"Captain," asked Marrat, himself visibly taken aback by the staff's negating aura, "must you wield a wizardsbane so offensively?"

The captain held it downward, in a less threatening manner. "I apologize, but to us, Master Wenn is an unknown quotient, sir."

"I understand that and I vouch for his behavior," said Marrat, giving Wenn a meaningful look.

Mandran nodded curtly and turned toward one guard, who held a large wooden case. The staff was placed within and the lid closed. It was as if a fire had been snuffed in Wenn's mind. He hadn't even heard the buzzing sound in his ears until it was gone. "What was that thing?" he asked Marrat.

"A wizardsbane, a weapon to render mages helpless," said Marrat.

Both of they young apprentices looked at the captain with newfound upset and worry. "Would it hurt us?" asked Wenn, eyeing the casket, but talking to Master Marrat.

"Not in and of itself, but if you tried to use magic around it, it would suck your energies dry," explained Marrat. "I cannot know about Crissa, her abilities are so different from ours and powered differently, as well. It might hurt her.

Crissa gave the box one last look, then turned toward the captain again. "What do you mean that he killed that ass Lentan?" she said. "We just saw him not an two hours ago, and he was hale and hearty and full of piss and vinegar."

"As you say, Mistress Crissa," said the captain, trying very hard to remain professional. "But he is quite thoroughly dead now, and it was known that Master Wenn had accepted challenge to duel him this very night."

Wenn bowed up at this point. "So you call my honor into question by laying claim that I ambushed him and killed him rather than face the cad in a fair fight?" he asked.

"That is the charge, Master Wenn, though the details must come out in the trial," said Captain Mandran. "For now, you are made arrest, please."

"Go with him, Wenn, and offer no resistance," commanded Marrat in a quiet voice. "Do not dishonor us by adding real crime to the charges."

Wenn blinked at the old wizard, then nodded. "Yes, Master Marrat," he said. 

Crissa tried to follow them as the guards formed a rough box around the young apprentice. Marrat stopped her with a old, callous, and surprisingly strong hand. "No, dear," he said. "You need to stay."

Her eyes turned to his, wide and pleading. "But he needs me," she said.

"He needs you to stay here, and clear of the confusion that his arrest will cause," said Marrat, gently nudging the doors to his foyer closed.

"You do know he didn't do it, don't you?" asked Crissa, blinking back tears.

Marrat shook his head. "I know no such thing, though I do not believe he did it," said the old wizard.

"How can you say that?" asked Crissa, almost screaming. "You know he didn't do it!" Tears now rolled down her cheeks and she clenched her fists into tight knots.

Again, Master Marrat shook his head. "I fear I cannot say that," he said.

"Then look into his mind and see the truth," she said.

"I cannot do that, my dear, even if I were able," said Marrat, a odd placidity coming over his features.

"You won't lift a finger to defend him?" she asked, her expression incredulous. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Marrat moved toward the library and sat upon a small stool within the massive room. "I cannot take any side in this," he said. "I must remain impartial."

"Why?" she asked. "You are his mentor, you have to take his side."

"Because," said Marrat, taking out his pipe and starting to pack tobacco into the bowl, "as he is a wizard, and I am the senior wizard of the duchy, I must be his judge."

- - - - - - - - - -

"I cannot simply recuse myself, Crissa, you must understand that," said Marrat, sighing. "We are wizards, and held to a higher standard, we must simply become impartial, even if it hurts inside to do so."

"And does it hurt?" she shot back. "You don't seem terribly upset."

"It does, my dear," said the old man.

She turned about again, hammering both her fists on the end of a large bookshelf. "One protect me, I want to throttle you right now," she said.

"I understand that feeling," he said mildly.

She blinked at him. "Who will be his defender in the court?" she asked, a small spark of hope dawning in her eyes. "He is a freeman and such is his right."

Marrat nodded. "Indeed, it is," he said. "I have sent for a friend from Morrovale to assist in that endeavor, to act as his barrister."

She nodded and said, "At least you did that much."

"I had to, as the judge, it is my duty to ensure he is represented," said Marrat. "I did him no special favors."

"I suggest you go to bed and begin afresh on the morrow, Crissa," said Marrat, picking up a massive tome and carrying it toward his own bedchamber. "You have much to do."

"What have I to do, except watch my lover be tried for a murder he didn't commit?" she asked.

Marrat gave her a weak smile. "I assume you wish to clear his name," he said. "Such things are best done with clear heads and well-rested bodies."

She blinked after him as he closed the door to his chamber.

Crissa could not think straight. Wenn was now prisoner and her life was twisted out of alignment. She stormed up to their shared tower room and threw herself onto the bed and wept, frustration bled as she wailed into the pillow, her heart hurting for her missing mate.

- - - - - - - - - -

She awoke to the sun beaming into her face. The sun did not come into this part of the room till near noon. She blinked at the blinding light and slipped from the bed.

After bathing and donning clean clothes, she walked downstairs to find Marrat sequestered in the library with the massive, heavy doors closed tight and barred. There would be no help from that quarter.

With a massive sigh, she left the house and walked aimlessly down the streets of Norboro. She was unsure where she may be going, but soon found herself standing before the student dormitory at the academy.

She glared at the building, annoyed at it. She thought, for a moment, to see if she could do something to it, using her abilities. Surely, that would help Wenn so much, she thought, then smiled at the silliness of the very idea.

Taking a massive breath, she walked toward the front doors.

An upperclassman opened the door as she approached, holding a small baton in his hand. "Stop where you are, witch," he said, giving her a disdainful look. "We're locked down to prevent further incidents against us by outsiders," he said.

She glowered at him. "I am a student of the Academy, am I not?" she asked.

He nodded. "But you're a witch," he said.

"Which is not necessarily a crime, you ass," she growled, taking another step toward him.

He got a hateful look on his face and his hand, bearing the short, weighted club started moving. She reached out with her mind and wrenched control of that arm from him, he slammed that hand down on the stone bannister and the baton went tumbling away.

The young man began to scream out, but she seized control of his vocal cords as well, stopping it in his throat. He then hurled himself out of her way with a flying leap over the bannister to tumble into the shrubs beside the stairs. She opened the door to see two other upperclassmen fleeing down the long corridor. "Cowards," she said. There were disjointed groans from the doorway behind her. Crissa moved down the corridor of the second story like a lioness prowling for prey. A head would poke out of a room head on one side or the other, only to be hastily jerked back inside with a sound of fear and panic.

There were two determined-looking young men standing before the door to Peris' room. Crissa took control of their necks and bounced both young men's heads off the doorframe behind them. They slid quietly to the floor as she opened the door. "Come Peris," she said, "it isn't safe for you here."

Peris sat up from her bed. "How did you - oh, no, Crissa." she said, eyeing the fallen two behind the tall blond.

"They are unhurt," said Crissa, shaking her head. "Or at least mostly so. They WERE holding you against your will, yes?" she asked.

"Yes, they were," said Peris.

"Then I was justified in the force I used to win your release," replied Crissa. Her voice held a coldness in it that was rather frightening to Peris. "We're going somewhere safe."

One of the young men who had been guarding the door was regaining consciousness. Crissa reinstated his slumbering state by grabbing his head and bouncing it off the wall behind him. One of the upperclassmen had a pendant clutched to his chest that glinted as if of precious metal.

Crissa peered closer and saw that it was a symbol of some sort. She pulled on it, and found it was bound about his neck by a chain. "What's this?" she asked Peris. It resembled a pyramid with a burning hand superimposed on the front face of the triangular shape.

"I don't know, some of the upperclassmen wear them, probably one of their ‘secret societies' the school is full of little clubs and such," said Peris, rolling her eyes.

The tall blond made harumphed and stood, taking Paris' arm. She watched alertly for any movement. If the upperclassmen thought she was coming, they were leaving her an open path back to the street. The lad she had hurled into the shrubs was crawling free of them. "Witch!" he screamed, pointing at her. Another of the golden pendants was about this young man's neck, knocked loose by his flip into the bushes.

People on the street were beginning to stare, and some were talking. She grabbed his arm from him again and balled his hand from a pointing finger into a fist, then he punched himself in the face, knocking himself down. Crissa moved like a draft horse, plowing through the gathering people as if they were not there. They moved aside, fearful of both her power and her obvious anger.

Crissa felt fear form Peris as well, and something else, something more feral. This is arousing her, and it's aimed at me, thought Crissa.

They arrived at Marrat's home and she escorted the young woman up the stairs to the turret chamber. "Listen, Peris," she said, speaking rapidly and pacing back and forth. "I don't like girls like that, so please put that out of your head, it will never happen."

The younger girl looked somewhat hurt, but smiled. "Sorry, I should have known you would see it."

"I couldn't miss it, to tell the truth. You're a girl of strong passions," said Crissa, then sat heavily in her chair. "Now, I need to know all you do about those lads that framed Wenn."

"Framed Wenn?" asked Peris.

"They're accusing him of murdering Lentan," said Crissa, lifting her head from her cupped hands. "You didn't know this?"

"No," she said. "I knew crossing that ass would be bad." Her eyes filled with tears.

"You said there are cliques and clubs and stuff within the students, right?" asked Crissa. "Tell me about that clique."

"Which one?" asked Peris.

"The one that Lentan belonged to," replied Crissa.

Peris thought for long moments, organizing her mind. "Many students are sons of merchants and other freemen and commoners," she said. "Lentan's lot consider themselves above such, as ‘divinely granted' wealthy and powerful."

"He only associates with other noble-born, then?" asked Crissa.

"Yes, except when he sees some use for someone else," replied the little brunette.

"I wish to know what that burning hand symbol is," said Crissa. "I get the feeling they all wear one." She turned to Peris and gave her a hard, icy stare. "Do you wish to help Wenn?" she asked.

"Of course I do," said Peris.

"How badly?" asked Crissa. "This may become dangerous."

Peris lowered her head. "This happened because he defended me," she said. "I'll do whatever is needed to clear his name."

Crissa gave one sharp nod of her head and started digging in her closet. "Get undressed," she told the younger girl.

The young noblewoman blinked at her, but started unfastening her dress' buttons. "What are we going to do?" she asked.

"Find out what evidence the guard holds against Wenn," said Crissa. "And I can't use magic to get to it, else I will be jailed, also."

"What are we going to do?" repeated Peris.

Crissa tossed her an elven-style set of clothes. "We're going to use the other magic you and I possess," she said and started stripping herself.

- - - - - - - - - -

The midnight watch was very dull, and the two guards on the watch house stood at ease, talking to each other.

Peris stood around the corner with Crissa. "How do we get them to take us inside?" she asked.

Crissa gave her a marvelously blank stare, then said, "Just follow my lead, and remember, you said ‘whatever it takes'."

"Oh, One protect me," said Peris, her eyes going wide. "You mean to seduce them."

"I do," said Crissa. "And if you're to help me, you're going to seduce one of them. If you're not willing, go back to Marrat's. I can do this alone."

The icy expression and cool tone of the words chilled Peris' heart. "I want to help," she whispered. "Though I don't know how." "I can help you in that much," said Crissa. "You grant me leave?"

With a nervous swallow, Peris nodded.

"Look at one of the guards, the one you favor," said Crissa, then smiled wickedly. "You're about to lose your virginity to him."

"Will it hurt?" asked Peris.

"Probably," said Crissa, "but you'll be too excited to care."

"I cannot," said Peris, breaking into tears and backing away from Crissa with fearful eyes. "I just can't."

She wept openly, forcing Crissa to pull her back into the shadows of the alley. "Okay," she hissed, "but you will have to do something on your own. Just pleasure him with your mouth. If he decides he must poke something, I'll try to cover both's needs."

Peris' expression moved to shock. "And that's better?" she asked, her voice rising.

"You'll still be a virgin," said Crissa, shrugging.

Peris shook her head again. "I still don't know how," she said.

"One grant me strength," growled Crissa lifting her eyes to the stars. "I didn't the first time I did it either, you know!" she said. "You just take the end in your mouth, bob your head down on it and play with his shaft and balls with your hands. It's not like studying higher mathematics."

Peris nodded. "I suppose not, huh?" she said, then she squared her shoulders and lifted her head to stare directly ahead. "Okay." She had a rather determined look on her face.

The two walked from the alley and directly toward the guards. The men immediately took notice of two young girls walking in the foggy night, seeming to make straight for them.

"Hello, there, you two lovelies," said one guard. He was a younger man, perhaps in his mid twenties. The other man held his tongue and watched them simply with openly appraising eyes.

"Good evening," said Crissa, swinging her hips widely the last few steps. The younger guard looked up and down her figure, quite boldly examining the long, muscular limbs and noting the absence of a loincloth beneath the elven style skirt. "What can we do for you two ladies this night?" he asked.

Crissa smiled and walked to stand but a foot from the tall soldier. "My friend and I were having fun with a couple of lads who didn't know their limit in alcohol," she said. "We thought, mayhaps, a pair of loyal guardsmen might be sober enough to satisfy our needs."

The younger guard swallowed and looked to his companion. His friend, the older of the two, was examining Peris' figure in her skimpy elven garments. "Aren't you a bit young to be out propositioning men?" he asked quietly, almost paternally.

Peris giggled. "I'm older than I look, sir," she said with a broad smile. "I'm eighteen, so I'm well past allowed, am I not?"

He nodded. "I suppose you are, young woman," he said.

Crissa stepped closer. "You have rooms right here, do you not?" she asked, jerking her head toward the large stone structure behind him.

"Of course we do," said the guard, suddenly very energetic. "I'll be right back, I'll get a couple of lads to relieve us and we can show you our fine billits."

He slipped into the building. Peris was now standing right beside the older guard, actually holding his arm. "I've never been in a guards' billit before, is it interesting?" she asked.

"I'll give you a tour of the place," he said.

"Would you?" asked Peris, "That is so very sweet of you."

The guard, almost twice her age, blushed deeply. "Well, you two are pretty sweet, too," he said, actually scuffing his boot on the cobbles of the courtyard.

The younger guard returned with two other guards in tow. "You so owe us for taking your watch, Willim," said one of the replacements. He looked at the two girls, his eyes going wide. "You owe us BIG," he repeated.

Willim took Crissa's offered arm and escorted her into the massive stone structure. The older guard followed them with Peris in tow.

Crissa looked around them as they passed through passages and closed doors. "Your friend said you two would show us around," she said.

"Did he then?" asked Willim, looking back at his elder compatriot. "Did you promise them a tour Gharen?" he asked.

"Yeah, I did," said Gharen, smiling at Peris. "We should show them about, you know?"

"I suppose that would be okay," said Willim, putting his arm around Crissa's slim waist. Crissa leaned into him warmly, and put her own arm around his waist and hooked her thumb through his belt. She giggled as she put her head on his shoulder. She stood so tall that she, in truth, was at least his own height.

Peris came barely to the older guard's shoulder, she smiled up at him. "I'd really like a look around, this place has always made me wonder what's inside," she said.

They came to a large, iron-bound door. "Well, the dungeon is down there, where we hold prisoners for trial." he said. "We can't let you in there, though, they're a dangerous lot, and two pretty gels like you, well, you know." He shrugged his shoulders helplessly.

Crissa blinked at him, acting stunned. "They'd ravish us?" she said, innocently. 

"Yeah, I fear they would," said the guard.

The tall blond leaned into him again, and put her lips to his ear. "I rather fancy being ravished this night," she whispered.

He twitched at her words and a tiny smile formed on his lips. "I'll see what I can do, then," he said, trying to sound professional.

The quartet moved through the building, visiting such charming locales as the confessions chamber. Crissa rather thought it looked like a torture chamber, but who was she to quibble. The guard laughed when she gasped at the rack. "Now, dear, this stuff's not been used in generations, so don't fear," he said. "The stuff is mostly kept about because it's so bloody interesting."

Crissa ran her fingertips over the restraints on the rack. "It is interesting," she said, stroking the steel fittings as if she were petting a cat.

Peris was in the corner, looking at a large contraption with Gharen. "You say they used it to break bones slowly?" she asked, rather horrified, and not needing to fake it much. "Aye," said the guard. "The suspect would be clapped in those irons there, then those bars and stuff would come down to work on each major bone individually. With that crank there, they all can be tightened a tiny bit at a time." He looked at the torture device with awe. "I heard a skilled man could snap all of them in a single quarter-turn."




Feldare Tales: High Society Ch. 04



Peris cringed. "How horrid," she giggled, stepping closer to Gharen and putting her hand on his stomach as she leaned toward him.

She then felt his large hand on her backside, stroking up from the slit side over her bare bottom. He smiled at her and she returned the smile. His hand felt hot on her rump, like it had just been pulled from an oven. The fingers pressed into her crease and he squeezed the lobe of soft flesh. A unforced moan escaped her lips. Peris had never been touched on her bare rump before and the feeling was rather good, even with this brutish guard. She glanced over to see Crissa kissing the other guard, her back to a wall and the guard leaning onto her, their arms around each other and exploring one another's backs.

Peris smiled again, moving her own arm from the man's belly and sliding it lower. "I have to warn you, sir," she said quietly, "I am very new at this."

He smiled. "I am a patient man, I'll not rush you, then," he said. Her hand was now moving over his pants and she felt the rough linen of them. He sighed as her hand grew very near to his organ and she looked on in fascination as it swelled within his pants, pressing the cloth outward.

"Come on, Gharen," said Willim, "let's show them the records hall."

Gharen rolled his eyes, and then smiled down at Peris as her hand moved away from him. Her breathing was heavy and erratic as he loosed her butt from his grip. They walked down the hall after Willim and Crissa.

Peris was rather surprised at how easily this was working. Not the idea of their duplicity of coming into the guard house, but how easily she was coping with being touched in private ways and how very close she had come to returning a private touch herself. A tiny portion of her mind resented the interruption to her playing with the man, and she had to remind herself that they had a goal in mind.

They went through another door and entered a large chamber lined with shelves stacked high with books and papers. Crissa immediately was reminded of the library in Marrat's home. This place, however, lacked the sense of disciplined organization that the old wizard's library possessed.

"Wow," she said, widening her eyes theatrically. "Look at all those books."

The younger guard regarded the tomes and stacks of documents. "Aye, they store all the records for the duchy here," he said, proudly. "We're underground and its very stoutly built in this part of the building."

She looked at the bindings of some of the nearer books, brushing the spines with her fingertips. "They store reports from crimes here?" she asked.

He blinked at her rather pointed question, but shook his head. "No, those are kept in the inner chamber, at least until the case has been heard," he said, pointing toward a door to their right. "You planning on becoming a barrister?" he asked, grinning and reaching for her waist.

She let him pull her to himself. "No," she giggled, "I'm just fascinated by trials and punishment." She said ‘punishment' very slowly, raising her eyes to lock onto his own. "I bet you've locked away some pretty bad men."

The guard puffed up again, smiling at her and bringing her close to him. She felt his erection pressing against her pelvis. "Well, yeah, we just brought in a murderer last night, in truth," he confided. "A wizard, if you'll believe it."

Crissa gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. "A wizard, you say?" she asked. "How do you keep him from just poofing away?" Her hands flew wide, with splayed fingers as she said ‘poofing'.

"We've a special cell, lined with lead and with binding circles worked into the floor and walls," said the Willim with a smile. "He's stuck there, even if he knows how to translocate himself."

She smiled. "You've thought of everything," she said, as if he had designed the security of the prison himself. Her body formed against his, and his erection pressed even more firmly to her. She took hold of the back of his neck and pulled him down into a long kiss.

A row over from Crissa and Willim, Peris and Gharen leaned against another shelf, the older guard kissing her feverishly and she responded with almost equal vigor. Inside her mind, she was shocked at how willingly she was going along with this activity. Was her libido truly so suppressed? 

His organ was pressing against her belly and she moved a hand down to rub against the side of the shaft. It felt warm, even through his pants. He smiled at the contact and moved one of his hands up beneath her loose halter top, squeezing one small lobe of breast. She groaned involuntarily at the pleasure this shot through her and her hand, of it's own volition, gripped his cock through the cloth of his pants.

She fluttered her eyes up at him after breaking their wet kiss. "I must remain a virgin, I fear," she said. "But I would please you, if you wish it."

Gharen smiled at her. "I can understand a girl wishing to retain their maidenhood," he said. In that, Peris now realized Crissa's wisdom in culling off the younger buck herself. Young men were not known for great patience with lovers. This mature man would not pressure her nearly as much, if any. "But how might you pleasure me otherwise?" It was a leading question, just to get her to admit to the act she was about to commit. To name it.

"I could mouth you?" she asked, squeezing his pole as she spoke. A rosy blush rose to her cheeks for uttering such a bold offer.

He nodded. "I would very much like that," said Gharen, unfastening his belt.

She watched as the pants hung from her grip about his cock. If she released it, they would fall to the floor.

With a deep inhalation of breath, she let him go and the pants fell. For the first time, she was regarding a man's organ at close range and erect. It looked ridiculously large and somewhat cumbersome. "That fits inside a woman?" she asked, reaching out and gently stroking her fingertips down the smooth sides of the shaft.

"It does," he said. "Though it might not look like it."

"Are they all so large?" asked Peris, moving to her knees and cupping his balls in one hand.

"I suppose so," said Gharen. "I've not gone about making a point of comparing."

She giggled at him. "I suppose not," she said, gripping the shaft at the base, her little and ring fingers being tickled by the tight knot of dense pubic hair. He groaned at the feeling of her soft skin on his pole and her warm breath moving over the head, which was only inches from her mouth. He looked down at her expectantly.

"Tell me what to do," she said, looking up at him. "I'm really new at this."

She felt his organ twitch in her grip at that admission from her and a small amount of fluid slipped from the slot in the tip. Peris slid her thumb over it, rubbing the base of the thick cock's head. It was very slick, like her own juices, and she decided it must serve much the same function. 

"Just stroke with that hand there," he said, pointing to her hand on his shaft, "and take what you can into your mouth."

She did as he said, rather amazed that she did so with such ease and comfort. His organ filled her mouth easily and it felt both soft and warm against her lips and roof of her mouth. More of the fluid slid out, she could tell, it was somewhat salty, but not terribly disagreeable. Her hand stroked the portion of his organ she could not take into her mouth.

"Gently suck on it," he said, "and move your head back and forth until just the head is in your mouth."

She followed his breathy instructions, smiling inwardly at the sudden change in his tone. Though it was her following instructions, she was the one in control right now.

Peris pulled her mouth from his pole and smiled up at him. "Am I doing well?" she asked.

He grinned down at her, nodding enthusiastically. "The best," he said.

She took him back in and decided to modify some motions and speed up a bit, he seemed to like it faster.

Crissa was against the door to the inner vault of the records hall, her back pressed to it and her legs about Willim's waist. His cock drove into her furiously and she groaned in pleasure. With ferocious effort, she was containing the waves of lust that wanted to burst forth from her and run amok over the area around her. That would not do, she knew, and the fear of that event kept her mind clear enough to maintain control.

It also kept her from climaxing, which she did not appreciate. However, she was not here to gain pleasure, she was here to gain access to this room.

She felt Willim tighten his grip on her waist and his legs stiffen, then heard him grunt into her neck as he bit down and climaxed. His seed warmly flowed into her and she cooed and stroked his sides as he slowed his frantic pace.

"Well done, guardsman," she sighed. "You serve your people well when they need succor." Her long legs tightened about his waist as he tried to move back. "You're surely not done yet," she said, smiling at him broadly. "A young strong buck like you must be able to give a girl more."

He nodded and she released him with her legs, letting his organ slip from her. "We need a table," he said. "Come with me." He used a key to unlock the inner chamber's door and led her to a long table in the middle of the wide vault. Papers lay strewn about it, though there was plenty of clear space. Crissa sat upon the table and reclined invitingly.

"Like so?" she asked, laying down fully and moving her legs apart to hang over the edge of the polished wooden surface. She lifted the elven skirt upward until her sex was displayed, open and welcoming.

"Aye," he sighed moving up between her legs and lifting her knees to rest on his shoulders. Already, his cock was growing stiff again.

"Ah, Yes," grunted the older guard, Gharen, gripping Peris' hair with both hands and holding her in place as he climaxed. Her mouth filled with semen and she was forced to swallow. It was like the other fluid, but more salty and thicker, almost like a gelatin. It felt warm as it went down, too, and rested in her belly warmly. Or was that just her imaginings?

The flow tapered, then stopped and his hands relaxed. "I did well?" asked Peris, smiling up at him.

He grunted something rather unintelligible and lifted her to her feet. She pressed eagerly to him, feeling very excited herself and they embraced for a moment and then kissed. "We should check on our companions," said Gharen.

Peris nodded and watched as he pulled up his pants and fastened his belt. They moved around the rows of shelves until they heard the sounds of passion nearby. "Sounds as if they're doing fine," said Peris with a smile.

He nodded and walked to the doorway to the inner vault. "Leave it to Willim to find a place to lie down," said Gharen, peering in.

The younger girl looked in to see the younger soldier lying upon the table, with Crissa straddling him, rocking eagerly back and forth. The sight of the two bodies, eagerly engaging in lustful action made Peris' slit very wet indeed. She cursed her need for chastity and wished it were not an issue.

Crissa turned as the two stood in the doorway. "Don't play coy," she said between forceful motions of her pelvis and round backside. "There's room for more on this table."

Peris looked nervously at the table. "You know I can't go that far, darling," she said to Crissa, giving her a shy smile.

The tall woman nodded. "I remember," she said, slipping off of Willim's pole. It glistened with her fluids and stood upright like a flagpole. She kissed the prone man. "Let my friend use her mouth on you, lover, and I will tend to the needs of your friend."

No complaint issued from Willim as Peris walked nervously up to him. "You don't mind?" she asked the smiling guard.

"Mind?" he asked. "To be pleasured by two women in one night, what's to mind?"

She gripped his slick pole with her hand, feeling the wet fluids on it. Peris took it into her mouth. His organ was not as large as Gharen's had been and she was able to take all but the last bit of it into her mouth and throat. She tasted the musky flavor of Crissa on it, and that sent an additional shiver down her spine.

Crissa felt that wave of lustiness and flicked her gaze toward the younger girl for a moment. If such pleases her, she thought, I do not begrudge her that much. Gharen smiled and kissed her and the two moved to the edge of the table. He turned her about and she laid her upper body on the surface, presenting her backside to him, legs far apart. He bent his knees and smoothly drove his large pole into her. She cried out as he rammed it home and then grunted with each thrust.

Peris was fascinated by the display of lustiness that Crissa was giving. She truly seemed to be enjoying the actions of the man giving his cock to her. When Crissa's eyes locked gaze with Peris' she realized that Crissa was enjoying it, completely.

Willim groaned out as she drove her head down and she felt him bucking with his hips. One of his hands was moving over the back of her head. He came soon after, giving her his seed, as Gharen had. She felt satisfied, knowing that she had committed two acts of carnality and still kept her innocence intact. However, she was also warm enough between her long legs to bake cookies. Frustration was mounting in her loins and she thought she might willingly give her virginity to wear the satisfied expression Crissa now wore as she panted and laid her head upon the table's smooth top.

The two men were, apparently, exhausted, both relaxing to an amazing degree and sitting in the padded chairs about the table. "You ladies are amazing," said Willim, smiling tiredly. "We will be talking about this for years, mark my word."

Crissa giggled and slipped on her elven skirt. "Does that mean you don't wish us to return?" she asked. "So you will have time to talk about it?"

Willim's face shifted to alarm. "Not at all!" he exclaimed, sitting up, alert. "You're welcome to return whenever you like."

Peris sat in Gharen's lap. "I hope you didn't mind my limited performance," she whispered.

"Not in the least," he said. "I was honored to be your first for that."

She smiled. "Perhaps you will establish other firsts with me, at some point," she said, implying a promise far greater than she would offer.

Willim was laying his head on the back of the chair, nearly asleep from his exertions and general fatigue. Peris caught a glint in Crissa's eyes as the young guard started snoring. She felt Gharen's hand slip from the small of her back and the man's head, resting on her shoulder, lolled limply as he, too, began breathing deeply and evenly.

A quizzical look from Peris and Crissa nodded. "They'll be out for some time," she said as she started looking over the shelves and at the papers on the table.

Peris managed to lay Gharen as Willim was posed and watched as he peacefully slumbered.

"You knocked them out?" asked Peris.

Crissa grinned. "They were already almost there, I just gave them a nudge," she explained. "They'll not even suspect magic."

"Nice," said Peris. She watched the slumbering guard. "Almost, now, I wish you had given me the lust you offered. I'm so frustrated now I can barely think."

Crissa giggled. "I can fix that, too, but I don't recommend it," she said. "Wenn had me reduce his libido once, and he couldn't get an erection for two weeks. A trying time for the both of us - Ah, here it is." She lifted a sheaf of papers and looked at them.

They sat at the table and looked at the papers, handing them back and forth. Most of the document was simply an account of the supposed events of the day, which were, generally accurate, if somewhat skewed in viewpoint.

However, there were several pieces of testimony toward the end that were VERY irregular.

"What's this about having to be identified by his belongings?" asked Crissa.

"It says that he was killed by fire, and his corpse was not recognizable," explained Peris. "They used his jewelry and such to identify him. It's common practice, really."

Crissa blinked. "Damn," she said. "Wenn knows fire magics, too."

"Don't all wizards?" asked Peris.

"No," said Crissa, "they have many areas they can specialize in, and fire is but one. Master Marrat cannot even summon a small flame."

"Interesting," said Peris.

"Look here," said Peris, holding out one piece of parchment. "The witnesses to the murder are listed here."

They poured over the list of names, there were only four of them. "They're all part of that little clique you asked about," said Peris, "except this lad."

Crissa tapped the table with one finger. "What about him?"

Peris shifted through the documents. "Only one other person even in the park, a young man named Kenett, a commoner who only attends the Academy to study the elven studies offered there," she said.

"Does it say why he was in the park?" asked Crissa.

"Apparently to stargaze," said Peris. "I know him and he's an odd bird," said Peris, "he's fascinated to the point of almost lunacy about elven things."

Crissa sat up. "Does it say where to find him?" she asked.

"Yes," said Peris pointing to the parchment. "He is said to be so distressed by the witnessing of it, he's in the asylum."

"What?" asked Crissa. "He's gone a bit off his perch," said Peris. "I told you, he was a bit off to begin with."

Crissa looked over toward the two guards, Willim was stirring and she didn't dare use her abilities again. "Okay, that's a start," she said, "we can return if we need more." The two girls shoved the documents back onto the shelf and returned to sit innocently on the table, both of them watching the men.

"Wha, What happened?" asked Willim.

"You must have worked yourself too hard trying to pleasure me," said Crissa, giggling. "But my friend and I must be going, if you would show us out. We don't wish our parents be too cross with us."

Willim nudged Gharen awake and they escorted the girls out of the guard building, smiling as they waved good bye. Idle promises of visitation were made, though even the guards were rather dubious that they would be kept. They simply counted their blessings this night and let it go at that.

As the two girls disappeared into the darkened streets, Gharen turned to Willim. "Imagine that, second time this week," he said.

"Aye," said Willim. "I always though the night shift was dull." 



Feldare Tales: High Society Ch. 05



" " ‘ ' Crissa sat on the bed she normally shared with Wenn and watched the younger Peris disrobe. "You seemed to manage very well, considering your lack of experience," she said.

A rather keen smile came to Peris' lips. "It was easier to do than I thought it would be," she said. "That they were strangers seemed to actually help. I cared little what they might think of me later."

The young sorceress gave her a slow nod. "I find it so, myself," she said.

"I was amazed at how - well - how feral you became," said Peris, sitting beside Crissa, on Wenn's side of the bed. "Is being taken by a man truly so pleasurable?"

"Yes," said Crissa, "at least it is to me."

"I envy you, then," said the younger girl, her eyes looking down at her legs and her palms, resting on her thighs. "I would experience such if I could."

Crissa snuffed out the candle that lit the room dimly and slithered into the coverlets of the bed. "Your station has many benefits, but comes at a price," she said.

Peris nuzzled into the blankets as well, the room already slightly chilled with the fall night cooling fast. "I doubt that it's worth so much," she said into the darkened chamber. Her voice conveyed a deep sadness that seemed to go far beyond a simple desire for pleasure.

The sorceress reached out a mind and touched Peris'. There lay a frightened and tearful child, or so it felt. She slid over a bit and reached out, pulling Peris, unresisting, to her, and held the girl to herself. Peris' mind did not fall to lustful thought, but took comfort in the touch and the two drifted into slumber.

- - - - - - - - - -

Master Marrat was in the kitchen the following morning as Crissa came down to perform her daily chores. "Good morrow," he said as she entered the kitchen.

"Master Marrat?" she said, blinking. "I thought you were sequestering yourself in the library."

He chuckled. "A man must eat," he said, showing her a bowl of lumpy oatmeal.

"You should have awakened me to make a proper breakfast," she complained, dragging out the pan and other cookware to begin a ‘real' breakfast, as she called it.

Marrat's face turned down, and his expression fell. "I thought you might refuse," he said. She saw, for the first time, a sign of how much this bothered him, and how much he cared for what she thought of him.

She clucked at him. "I would never, master," she said. "This is still your home, and I am still your apprentice."

He smiled, a soft smile, which warmed her heart with the implied gratitude in it. "You're kind to an old man," he said.

Crissa deposited a brief kiss onto his bald pate and took the abominable oatmeal from his hands. Peris walked in, still stretching, wearing one of Wenn's tunics, and, apparently, little else.

When she beheld Marrat sitting at the table, she blushed and turned to flee back up the stairs. "Stay, Peris," said Crissa, brandishing a spatula at her. "Master Marrat has seen more women in a state of more undress than you, girl."

Marrat chuckled. "That's true, but don't embarrass the lass," he said.

Peris' eyes set in a somewhat determined look. "I'm not embarrassed," she said, despite the blush rising in her cheeks, and sat at the table. "Do you need help?" she asked Crissa.

Crissa shook her head. "Offer again afterward, when the dishes need scrubbing," she said, smiling over her shoulder.

"You two were out late last night," said Marrat. "I trust you used the evening to your profit?"

"Of course," said Crissa. "We seduced some men and frolicked until the wee hours."

Peris' blush deepened to crimson and she averted her eyes from the old, alert eyes of the wizard.

"Master Marrat," started Crissa, "why did you send for a barrister from so far away as Morrovale?"

"Time," he replied. "I wanted to give you as much time as possible before he would arrive, and the trial must start within two days of that day."

She blinked at him. "You did it to give me more time?" she asked.

"Yes," he said. "Well, that, and the fact that I thought you would want the best."

Crissa nodded slowly and stirred the simmering eggs in the pan idly. The smell of cooking food filled the kitchen and Peris' belly emitted a deep, rolling rumble.

"Just you hold on," said Crissa, teasing the girl.

The meal went smoothly, and both Crissa and Marrat avoided the topic of the trial as they ate. Soon, though, Marrat took leave for himself and hobbled back to the library. Crissa and Peris were left to clean up the remains of breakfast.

"What shall we do this day?" asked Peris, up to her elbows in the washbasin.

Crissa dried a plate and sat it on its shelf. "We try to visit Kenett," she said.

"They aren't going to just let us into the asylum," said Peris, giving her a somewhat condescending look.

Crissa's look in return was almost utterly devoid of emotion. "I would think, after last night, you know locked places are no obstacle to pretty women." Then her face burst into a florid smile.

"Again?" asked Peris, a shocked expression on her face. "You're determined to break my resolve, aren't you?"

The sorceress thought for a long moment. "Yes," she said.

"Then why not just use your powers?" asked Peris, still not displeased by the conversation, despite the purported importance of her virginity.

Crissa leaned over and kissed the younger girl's brow. "It is more pleasurable to convince you to break your own will," she said. "I wish to hear no excuses that I toyed with your mind to turn you into a wanton harlot like myself."

The sorceress was forced to step back a pace as another wave of lust flew forth from Peris and over her, and about her. "You must really stop that," said Crissa, sighing and picking up another plate. "It's rather overwhelming."

Peris grinned wickedly at her. "If you can play at things, why can I not?" she asked, and the lustful feelings ended as if a door were slammed shut against a strong wind.

Crissa blinked at her. "You can ignite your lust and snuff it like so?" she asked, snapping her fingers.

"Sure," agreed Peris, turning from the sudsy water. "Can you not?" she asked.

"No," replied the sorceress, eyeing the shorter girl dubiously. Peris now wore an enigmatic smile on her full lips, and she cast sidelong glances at Crissa. "I see not only I can toy with other folks' minds."

- - - - - - - - - -

Wenn sat in his cell, alone. A single candle lit it, replaced from time to time after one would go out. The room felt worse than it seemed. It was just a dry, square room, three paces to a side. However, it felt like a closet to him. He could feel the malevolence to magic that the whole room held. This was a wizard's oubliette, and he could not magic his way out of it.

Two guards opened the door and one stood to the side, holding the wizardsbane in white knuckles while the other sat a wooden tray of food down on the little table. "I was told to pass you word that your barrister arrives in two days," he said, giving Wenn a hateful look.

Wenn, still sitting on the bed, looked at him. "A warded room, and a wizardsbane in hand, and yet you still hate me?" he asked. "What did I do to you?"

The guard stood up and puffed out his chest. "You're a man who was given everything by life," said the guard. "Yet, it was not enough to have powers other men don't, you had to use them toward dark ends."

Wenn blinked at the guard and stood. "I've never used my powers toward an end darker than pleasuring a girl."

The guard with the wizardsbane chuckled. "Damn cruel thing to do to the rest of us, isn't it?" he said. "Those lasses will be hard pressed to enjoy a normal man's touch when a wizard's had his way with her."

Wenn shook his head. "Believe me or no," he said, "I didn't kill that whelp, though it was probably a boon to mankind that he's dead."

"Talk like that won't help your case any, son," said the wizardsbane wielder. "You should be a bit more circumspect with that tongue. Stick to pleasuring women with it and leave judgement to those qualified to do so."

"How will I be judged?" asked Wenn.

"As a wizard," the tray-bearer said, making it sound almost like an insult, "you're entitled to a peerage trial. Only the One knows why."

"Peerage trial?" asked Wenn. "As in noblemen will stand in my jury?"

"Aye, son," replied the guard, "and it's a damn shame, they rather resent when one of their own gets done in."

Wenn's mood fell further, which said much. He sat heavily on the bed. "Damn," he muttered.

The guard who had brought the food said. "Don't you fret none, I'm sure whatever they choose it'll be quick." He walked out, chuckling and tapping the one carrying the wizardsbane on the shoulder, which turned and followed him out, as well. They slammed the door shut behind them and Wenn listened to their voices retreating down the hall.

Wenn sighed. He had tried now a dozen times to perform some magic, any magic, and so far, it all failed to even begin to form. The room seemed to taunt his very attempts.

- - - - - - - - - -

Peris tied the short elven skirt about her waist. "You own many fine clothes, Crissa," she observed peering past the golden-haired sorceress. "I thought apprentices were unpaid."

Crissa giggled at her. "I do odd jobs about the town for money," she replied. "When people need a bull to mount, or a cow to remain docile, or a prize stud horse needs coaxing to do his business."

The young noblewoman laughed too. "A useful ability, then, no?" she asked.

"Very," said Crissa. "I once used it on an older couple who wished a night of fiery passion, they paid handsomely for the pleasure it gave them."

Peris was giving her an odd look. "You can have any man you desire, can't you?" she asked.

"Yes," said Crissa, though she did not seem to be bragging, "or woman. Or make any man love any woman or whatever combination you can dream of." She turned toward the younger girl. "No, I've never given a human a lust for an animal, either, though I warrant I could."

Peris clapped her mouth shut, leaving her next question unasked.

Night had once again settled on Norboro and the lamplighters were going about their trade. A thin fog was settling upon the town, and seemed to be thickening as the river that bisected Norboro fed more moisture to the mixture. By the time the young women left the house of Marrat, the streetlights were merely glowing disks of lit fog with a bright pinpoint of light in the center that reached only a few feet into the thick, swirling mists.

"I hate fog," said Peris as she clutched her thin cloak about her slender shoulders.

Crissa sniffed the air. "I like the smells it brings," she said.

Peris looked at the taller girl. "It smells of the river," she said.

"Yes," said Crissa, "a natural scent. Not cooking, not smoke, not dung, but a smell of the world."

They walked in silence for a while as they crossed to the northernmost part of the city. Long ago, a wealthy merchant, whose son was undeniably insane, had built the asylum. It was run now, by the city itself, and supported with taxed moneys.

The building itself was threatening, a tall, narrow structure, it resembled a fortress more than a place of healing. Tiny slits of windows, ostensibly to keep the inmates in the building than to provide cover from outside. Crissa noted the similarities between this and the guard building from the night previous.

The brown stones of the building did little to make it seem less somber and sinister. Time and dark mosses had aged it, turning it nearly black over the years since it was built.

Around the building was a high fence of stone, with pointed spears atop it. This wall was built of the same, dark stone and seemed to be intent upon keeping out unwanted eyes.

Crissa and Peris neared the building and Crissa reached out with her mind, feeling the place. She recoiled, stopping her steady pace and gasping. "What a horrible place that is," she said in a quiet voice. "People are in there who deserve freedom."

"I have heard some are kept thus," said Peris. "A friend of my family was put in such a place. It served as prison without a trial to show guilt in some deed."

The sorceress nodded. "Kenett doesn't need to be here," she said. "He's not unwell, he's terrified, I feel him." Her eyes looked distant, unfocused. 

The wrought iron gate was unmanned, it's metal bars seemed hostile and subtly twisted as they emerged from the fog. "How do we seduce our way past this?" asked Peris.

Crissa produced a short rod of wood. Runes were carven down its length, spiraling up the wood, then inset with silver traceries. It was, perhaps, the length of her forearm and an inch wide, smooth and polished, with a silver-capped tip. She touched it to the large, heavy locking plate of the gate, where the key would go.

There was an audible snap as the lock mechanism shattered and bits of metal clinked onto the cobbles below it. The rod disappeared into Crissa's cloak as suddenly as it had appeared.

"I thought we weren't to use magics?" asked Peris, eyeing the destroyed lock.

Crissa shrugged. "They will never know it was magic," she said. "They will simply know the lock was broken." She pushed on the gate. It opened with a screech, wide enough for the two young women to enter. It squealed out into the dense fog as Crissa closed it.

"Handy little wand, that," said Peris.

"It's Wenn's," said Crissa. "It is the first magic item he crafted after Marrat taught him enchantment."

They were nearing the large, towering building. Again, they came to a locked door. Crissa had seen that the staff left at night, leaving the inmates to their own devices, usually chained in their cells, though some of the calmer ones were simply locked in their chambers.

The wand appeared again and the lock on the side door broke into dozens of ruined parts. Better maintained than the gate, the door opened without comment and the two girls slipped into the darkened room beyond.

Crissa spoke a word in a foreign tongue, and the wand began to glow with a pale blue light, dimly illuminating the little storage room in which they found themselves.

They crossed the cluttered room, stacked high with barrels and boxes, food and drink for the pitiable creatures housed in the asylum. The inner door was unsecured and opened into a corridor. Narrow, punitive doors lined the opposite wall of the long hallway, and both girls jumped when a pained scream emerged from the doorway opposite the storage room's wider doorway.

An eye glared out of the cell at them from the doorway, behind a heavy oaken door that rattled as whoever was inside tried to pull it open. "Pretty girls," a guttural voice said from behind that door, "Eat them, yes," he added, to their discomfort. "Till they're gone, gone, gone!" he squealed. The eye widened to almost a circle.

"He is on the third floor," said Crissa, nodding toward a staircase next to the storage room they just left.

Peris watched the doorway cautiously as they passed into the hall and started moving down it. They passed another door, this one unlocked and open. A young man sat in the room, a candle flickering on a desk in the corner. He turned to regard the two young women.

Something was odd about his motions, but Peris couldn't tell just what. She stood in the doorway, almost frozen, as the young man turned. He had a beautiful, innocent face. On the desk rested a journal, from what she could tell. He laid down a quill, setting it onto the ink-stained desk.

"Hello," he said quietly, and softly.

Peris' heart was thudding in her chest. "H. Hello," she finally replied as Crissa slid up beside her.

His face instantly turned to an expression of hate and disgust. "Witch!" he screamed, his chair falling over as he lunged toward the doorway with animal ferocity. As he came at the door, his fingers curled into claws and his teeth were bared, as if they were fangs.

There was a collar about his neck. When the chain joining that collar to the wall went taut his body flew out from under him, his feet barely leaving the room as he fell to the floor with a whomp. He quickly clambered to his feet, pulling on the chain like a rabid guard dog. 

"They told me you would come, witch, and that you would kill me in my sleep," he screamed out. "Well, I'm too smart for you, bitch. I didn't sleep, haven't slept in weeks." He let out a high, tittering laugh as he pulled on the chain steadily. Trickles of blood flowed from around the metal collar where the edge of the ring bit into the soft flesh of his throat.

Their backs hugging the wall, the two girls sidestepped down the hall, trying very hard to stay out of the young man's reach. "I'll kill you witch, just you'll see!"

There were answering cries from up and down the corridor, mad ululations from both directions, randomly spoken words, and flung curses.

Crissa started up the stairs, and Peris peered back toward the open door, and could still see the young, handsome man peering around the corner of the doorway with intense, feral eyes. "Kill the witch," he whispered, "she deceives." Peris then turned and followed up the stairs. The words he spoke at the last were different from other words. They seemed cast of rubber, for they bounced about her skull, full of random echoes and odd reverberations.

The stairs carried them all the way to the third floor, the topmost floor. They passed the second floor without emerging from the stairwell and drew no attention to themselves as they moved upward. They could still hear the young man, two storeys down, screaming about the witch, his chains rattling.

"What do you suppose that was?" asked Peris.

Crissa looked at her with sad eyes. "One like me, a gifted person," she said. "But one whom the gift did not give the strength to fight it's fires. He could see me, and my gift, but as his damaged him, he assumes that it damages my mind."

Peris left her thoughts at that unspoken. However, Crissa's inability to be monogamous, and willingness to give her body to men at whim crossed into her mind. She wondered if the gifts had not marked Crissa more deeply than she knew.

They moved down the corridor in near silence, trying to not make any more noise than they must. "I can feel Kenett," whispered Crissa, "he is near."

Peris moved across the hall and approached the stained door opposite them. She had to step on her tiptoes to peer through the little window in the door. It was darkened in the room, without even a window to let in outside light.

Crissa's hand shot out and grabbed her upper arm, yanking her violently away from the door just before something slammed into it and two fingers shot out of the little window, long nails, grimy with filth, clawed at the air where her eye had just been. "Come back, little girl," a woman's voice called. "You have such pretty eyes, let me have them."

There was a look of horrified revulsion on Crissa's face as she pulled Peris down the hall toward the next door. "I felt her anger and desire just before she lunged at you," she said. "They rest quiet until something wakens their insanity, then it explodes." She shook her head, her long, golden hair glinting in the blue-white light. "It hurts my head to feel it do that."

"Lets hope that Kenett isn't like that, then," said Peris, still eyeing the digits clawing through the door's window.

Crissa nodded in agreement. They moved down a few more doors quietly, and then Crissa said, "Here."

They both eyed the door and the long steel bolt holding it shut. Crissa, taller than Peris, crossed the hall and said, into the little window, "Kenett?"

There was silence for a moment, then a small voice on the other side. "Yes?" he asked.

Crissa heard the rattling of chains beyond the door and decided he was shackled in the room. She slid back the bolt with a dull rasp and pulled the door open. The light from her rod illuminated a wedge into the room. Sitting against the far wall of the chamber, only six feet across was a huddled shape, cringing from the light.




Feldare Tales: High Society Ch. 05



"Don't hurt me, I'm staying quiet," he said, shielding his eyes from the dim illumination.

His body was bruised and his clothes gone. He cowered naked against the wall.

"We'll not hurt you, Kenett," said Crissa, stepping into the chamber. No flare of insanity flashed into her mind from him, only abject terror so strong that she could taste iron in her mouth.

Peris followed her and Crissa handed her the rod. "I promise, I'll not hurt you," she murmured, kneeling beside the young man.

One eye peered from behind his fingers. "You won't?" he asked, his voice full of fear, still.

Crissa touched his shoulder and he pulled away, jerking his arm and rattling the chain about his neck. "No," she said, shaking her head. "I only wish to help you."

"That's what they said, too!" he screamed, pulling away and scooting down the wall on his rump, almost crab walking. He wound up in the corner, his legs pulled up and arms forming a cage of limbs to protect his head and body.

Ugly bruises covered his limbs, and his sides as well. She had seen similar bruises on his face, too, while he had been moving.

"What have they done to you?" asked Crissa, crawling toward him, staying as low as she could, unthreatening, like approaching an animal.

"They. They hurt me," he said. "They said it was to make me better, to clear my mind." His voice broke into quiet laughter. "They want to help me, too, just like you."

"No," said Crissa. "They were hurting you. I won't hurt you, ever, Kenett."

The one bleary eye peered from his hands again. "How can I know that?" he asked.

Crissa pulled at the string holding on her skirt, and it slid around her waist and fell to the floor. She untied her cloak as well and she slipped off her tunic in a practiced motion. "I have nothing to hurt you with, Kenett," she said, crawling toward him again. "I'm as naked as you."

He lowered one hand, looking at her with wide eyes. "You're pretty," he said.

Crissa gave him a wide, toothless smile. "You think so?" she asked. "I'm glad if you do."

He returned her smile; his lip was split deeply, bleeding into his mouth. "Yes," he said, "very pretty."

She was now right beside him, and she sat up, resting on her knees. "I think you're handsome, for a bookworm," she said, grinning at him.

He let out a small laugh, "You'd be the first to think so," he said. His eyes darted toward Peris, as if noticing her for the first time. "I know her, her name is Peris."

The young noblewoman nodded. "Yes," she said. "We go to the academy together."

Crissa now touched his arms, gently urging them down as she looked over him. He had been badly beaten, and thoroughly. Bruises marked every part of his skinny body, big ones, some ugly and open, where the skin yielded to the sores and swelling beneath.

"We have to get you some help," she said, touching his cheek with her soft fingertips. "We have to get you out of here."

He cowered back. "They'll kill me," he muttered, looking toward the door with fear in his eyes.

"No," said Crissa, taking hold of his hands, "they'll not hurt you. I'm a sorceress, I'll protect you."

"You, you're Crissa," he said, stammering again. "They said you'd kill me if I didn't stay here."

"Who is they?" asked Crissa, growing a bit impatient of hearing about this mythical ‘them.'

He saw that impatience as a threat and shied away from her fingertips. "They of the eye," he said, pulling back.

"No, no," she said, reaching for him again. "I'm not angry with you, nor will I kill you, I promise those things."

He still looked dubious, but allowed her to take his hands again. He moved them to her shoulders. "Can you stand?" she asked.

He nodded, a jerky motion that set his curly hair to bouncing. Slowly she stood up, lifting him with her. Soon, he was upright. He was just shorter than her and looked up at her slightly.

"You're tall for a girl," he said.

She smiled at him and kissed his brow. "You're short for a boy," she retorted.

The gentle interplay of comments seemed to ground him in the real world a moment, even if only for that, and he looked at Peris again. "You're not with them are you?" he asked.

"With whom?" asked Peris.

He looked at her with worried eyes. "The eye," he said, finally, almost wincing as he did so.

Crissa bent and picked up her cloak, putting it over Kenett's shoulders. "Here," she said in a soft tone. "Else I may have to ravish you." Her smile was broad and flirtatious, she was not purely joking.

She then hastily dressed again. "Come, we're taking you out of here," said Crissa.

Kenett watched her dress. "Never seen a grown woman naked before," he said, wistfully.

Crissa looked at him after pulling the tunic over her ample breasts. "You may see this one naked again if you are a good lad," she offered.

"Me, too," said Peris, smiling at him.

He blinked at that, hormones suddenly making up for innate courage. "Well, then," he said, a bright smile forming on his face. "How can I refuse to be a good lad?"

Peris led the way out of the room. She entered the hallway and was tackled from the side as she passed into the hall and began to turn. She let out a brief shriek as the rod tumbled to the floor with a hollow rattle. Crissa gasped and jumped toward the doorway only to feel intense pain as a fist flew from around the doorframe and into her face. She fell back even as Kenett ran to the corner again, wailing, "No, no, no, no!"

Stars danced before her eyes and her head spun from the impact. Her foe did not give her time to recover. Slamming into her with a high, piercing cry of, "Witch!" Her head slammed into the flagstones of the floor and her vision darkened. He was straddling her, his large hands upon her shoulders. He lifted her and pushed her down again and her head bounced on the stones again, further sending her into near unconsciousness.

From the corner of her dimming vision, she saw Peris dragged into the chamber by her hair, and the man pulling her, a massive man, naked except a pair of pants, kicked the door shut behind them.

He threw Peris negligently at the wall, where she hit, shoulder first and then striking her head. She groaned as she slid to the floor, folding in on herself. She gave Crissa an imploring look as the man yanked on the drawstrings on his pants and eyed her with saliva running down his chin.

The young man on her chest was still screaming, but she blotted that out, and the pain from her skull as he bounced it off the stones yet again. She reached out with her mind to Peris' attacker. The surface was jagged and unsettling, unfamiliar territory. She could not work within this man's brain; it was too alien a field to manipulate. The darkness was beginning to swallow Crissa.

She shifted her mind to Kenett's. Unlike the insane man about to rape Peris, his mind was smooth and orderly and she knew the landmarks of a sane man. She quickly touched here and there, brushing this thought, highlighting another. She moved hastily, and knew she must, for she was about to lose consciousness.

The last connection in his mind was made, and she had completed her task. A hard fist landed against her cheek as the boy screamed, "Die Witch!" It went dark.

Peris was withdrawing into herself, seeing already the lust in the man's eyes that was tugging at her tunic. "You and me will have great fun, yes we will, yes we will," he said, great blobs of spittle rolling over his lower lip.

Her top tore open and his filthy, clawed hands groped her small, round breasts. "Pretty girly, gonna take my seed, yes, indeed, then I'll eat her," he hissed.

She tried vainly to kick at him, but the insane man was much stronger than she. He stomped one foot down upon her shin, sending an intense shock up her leg, which numbed her nearly to her thigh. 

Peris' eyes moved over to Crissa again, who lolled like a rag doll in the hands of the younger man. He was still well dressed, and looked perfectly normal as he smashed his fist into Crissa's cheek, blood flew from the blonde girl's mouth as her head snapped around.

She looked back at her attacker, who had grabbed her ankles and was pulling her prone on the floor. She looked down to see his cock hanging down, seeming to be impossibly long and pointed, like a weapon itself. "Feed the filthy little whore my seed, then she feeds me," he muttered as he yanked at the elven skirt, ripping it free with a single pull, and revealing her entrance and tight patch of pubic hair.

He crawled up over her, his organ poised over her pelvis. She whimpered, begging him to stop. "No, no," he said, his expression almost sympathetic. "Don't cry, all you little whores like a good fucking before I eat, yes?"

He reached down and she felt the hot, round head of his pole touch her tender entrance, pressing into the lips slightly.

Peris' mind braced for his entry, knowing it was about to happen, regardless. She readied her body to bear his weight, stiffening and closing her eyes.

His weight came down on her, but he did not enter her. He slumped atop her, his chin digging painfully into her shoulder as he collapsed. His cock slid out from between the soft folds of her opening and tried to prod the stones, instead.

She opened her eyes and looked up. Standing over the crazed rapist was Kenett, holding the illuminated rod in both hands. Blood dripped from the silver head and she felt blood run over her cheek. She turned her gaze to her attacker and a large spreading flow of blood emerged from behind his ear.

Kenett's eyes burned with rage and passion, and he looked like a man about to lay waste to an entire city, just to avenge some slight. He looked at her, and the expression softened. "You're okay?" he asked worry filling his words.

"Yes, help her!" screamed Peris, looking toward Crissa.

His love bade it and he performed quickly. Stepping toward the other, smaller crazed man, Kenett grabbed the younger man by the throat with his left hand. The insane youth squawked as the scrawny bookworm hauled him off of Crissa and half tossed him across the room to tumble onto the floor.

"Kill him!" screamed Peris, her face filled with fear and rage as she shoved the massive man off of her.

With an almost impassive expression, Kenett stepped toward the babbling and screeching younger man. The boy stepped toward Crissa again and the rod came around in Kenett's grip, striking the boy in the neck.

The young man's face looked shocked, and rather offended as the rod came about again, and there was a sickening sound of breaking bone as his jaw snapped from the solid impact. "My love says you die, you die, boy," said Kenett in an utterly uninflected tone.

The younger man's babble degenerated into an incoherent wail as Kenett began striking him, over and over. Blood flew and the light from the wand flashed and flickered as it swung around Kenett, casting fast-moving shadows about the room. Peris began crying, knowing she had ordered the crazed lad's death. Terrible sounds of bone snapping and meat being struck came to her ears and she cried out, "Enough Kenett, enough!"

Kenett turned toward her, blood streaking his cheeks and matting his hair. "I have pleased you?" he asked. She saw the glitter of affection in those eyes. He loved her, utterly. She could see it, as if it were writ upon his brow.

"Yes, beloved," she said, trying to force a smile upon her face. "You've pleased me greatly."

She struggled, pulling her legs free of the dead weight of the massive man who had tried to rape her. Kenett walked over and yanked the man off of her, and gently helped her to her feet. "I am gladdened," he said, his eyes flicking over her, examining every inch of her, memorizing her.

His fingers moved to her hair, stroking it, intertwining with it. "I only wish to please you," he said in a soft tone.

She again forced a smile to her face. "Then you have done well," she said. "For I am totally pleased." She leaned toward him, her lips puckering slightly, offering him a kiss.

He kissed her, and thoroughly. Her eyes went wide a moment as his lips met hers. She had never been kissed so enthusiastically before and the feeling of it thrilled her greatly. His tongue entered her mouth, exploring and probing, and she responded by sucking upon it, welcoming it. Soon, she needed no more of any acting. She was as enthusiastically enjoying the kiss as he.

The kiss ended when Crissa groaned from beside them. Both looked toward her. "Your friend is hurt," he said, "we should help her, right?"

Peris nodded. "Yes," she said, kneeling beside Crissa's prone form. One eye was swollen shut and blood ran from her opposite ear. "He very nearly killed her."

With very gentle fingers, Kenett lifted Crissa, cradling her in his slim arms. Peris blinked at him, wondering at the strength he was displaying. "Are you sure you can bear her?" she asked.

"For you, I would bear the world," he said, and meant it with every fiber of his body.

Her smile was not forced at that moment. She grabbed up her cloak and slipped it onto herself, having to hold it wrapped about her by hand, as the cords were broken which held it closed. She took the wand from Kenett's hand and looked at it.

She touched the silver tip to the chain, a foot or two down from his collar. She spoke the word she had heard Crissa speak twice; it sounded unearthly and seemed to sound louder than she spoke it. The link she was touching shattered, falling in many tiny pieces onto the floor. As she turned toward the door, she caught sight of the younger man, the one who had screamed that Crissa was a witch. She wished she had not.

Bile seared the back of her throat and she fell to her knees, vomiting. Kenett had reduced his head to a bloody, meaty pulp from the nose up. Kenett sounded worried when he asked, "Are you going to be okay?"

After a few more painful heaves, her stomach was empty, and she felt better. She avoided looking at the dead inmate and turned toward Kenett again. "Yes," she croaked out. "I am simply ill."

He nodded. "Lets hope you are well soon," he said, soberly. He made light of the load that was Crissa, despite the fact that she likely weighed at least as much as he.

"We need to go, now," said Peris, moving toward the door. She pulled it open, holding the wand up, ready to strike a blow if anyone was beyond it. There was nothing in the blue-white glow of the wand in the hall, save the stones of the walls and floor.

They moved toward the stairs and quickly descended them. Kenett had no trouble with the unconscious Crissa, carrying her without complaint or issue. He seemed quite at ease, in truth, his mind was focused. Peris thought it rather appealing, that his mind was focused upon her.

At the bottom of the stairs, they found a dead man, holding a short club. One of the orderlies of the asylum, apparently there was one or two on duty even at night. He had been stabbed in the ribs, though, not bludgeoned, as one of the inmates must do, as they had no knives.

"Someone from outside killed him," said Peris.

Kenett nodded slowly. "Looks like that," he said in a surprisingly reasonable tone. "They don't let us in here have knives or other weapons."

She looked toward the two cells that had housed the men who had attacked them. "Someone let them out to kill us," she said, her voice little more than a sigh.

Kenett just blinked, looking at her. "We should leave, then," he said. "Else they may try again."

She nodded in agreement, pulling him toward the storeroom door.

As they ran through the gate, Peris thought she saw a shape in the fog, at the edge of her vision. It flitted away when she looked toward it, and she only saw swirling mists when she moved that way. "Come," she said, leading Kenett toward Marrat's home.

They covered almost half the distance when she had a thought, and stopped them. "No, we need somewhere else for the moment," she said. "They're likely watching Marrat's home."

Kenett just watched her as she looked down the street and saw a reasonably reputable inn. She then turned to Kenett and reached into the cloak, which he wore. She soon found the deep pocket, which had held the rod, then dug about, coming out with a few small silver quarter mark coins.

Peris told Kenett to wait outside and went inside, she paid for a room and received the heavy iron key. She then came back out. This inn, the Lazy Wolf, was more a series of little huts than rooms, and they each had their own door to the street. She let them into their hut and bade Kenett lay Crissa upon the bed.

"She needs a healer," said Kenett.

Peris rummaged into Crissa's cloak again, and found her last few coins. Not nearly enough for a healer's services. Her mind swam with fear and upset, little money and in need of expensive services.

Kenett was wearing, then, an expression of confusion. "Peris?" he asked. Crissa's tampering with his mind was wearing off, leaving him normal again. The confusion yielded to fear as he looked around. "What happened?"

She put her hand upon his brow. "It's okay," she said. "We got you out." Then she giggled, a humorless sound, but full of odd relief. "Actually, you rescued us."

"I remember that, but how?" he asked. He looked at his hands, and at the caked blood on them. "I'm no warrior, I was terrified. Then I HAD to save you, had to help you. I loved you."

She grinned at him as she started stripping Crissa's skirt off the taller girl. "Yes, you did, and you did me proud," she said.

"What are you doing?" he asked as she slipped the tunic over Crissa's head.

"I have to go out," she said. "We have to get a healer here." She tied on the skirt and slid on the tunic, then covered Crissa's nude body with the coverlet from the bed. "Watch over her, and don't take advantage of her," she admonished.

"I would never," said Kenett, a shocked expression on his face.

Peris gave him a brilliant smile, full of sharp teeth. "Good, because you're supposed to love me," she said, "Remember?"

With that, she slipped from the room and back onto the street. The night fog was chill as she moved down the street, cloakless. At a water barrel, under the drain from the main eaves of the inn, she scrubbed the blood off the rod hastily, and then proceeded, seeking for the open palm sign of a healer.

Healers, as a rule, kept odd hours, as people tended to hurt themselves when it would be most inconvenient, naturally. Therefore, Pallin was not surprised when someone pounded upon his door well past middle night.

He opened the door, eyes bleary. Pallin was a middle-aged man, long in the service of the healing arts, and well respected in the community.

Peris looked up into his lined face. "I have need of your services, sir," she said, making her eyes wide and apologetic. "I have an injured friend who needs tending, badly."

He nodded and opened the door for her to enter. "Come in a moment, let me get dressed," he said. His voice was deep and resonant, and she rather liked the softness of it.

"I need to know your rates, sir," she said, speaking hesitantly.

He walked around a corner into his bedchamber. "My rates depend on what is needed of me," he replied. "If I must use magic, of course, the costs go up quickly, especially if I need any rare herbs or minerals."

"I have but two marks," she said.

He peered around the corner. "Not much healing in two marks, young woman," he said, his voice sounding very tired.

"I know that," she said, lowering her eyes. This was entirely an act; Peris knew full well what she might need to do to secure healing for Crissa. She also knew Crissa would happily do it for her, were their roles reversed.

He stared at her a moment. "I'll see what I can do for your friend anyway," he said.

"I'll be very, very grateful," she said, looking up coyly at him, and putting forth the tiniest of inviting smiles.




Feldare Tales: High Society Ch. 05



He blinked at her a moment, then smiled himself. "Lets see how much healing is needed before we go looking into levels of gratitude," he offered, generously.

Peris was staggered that this was working. He was going to heal Crissa before she even had to bed him. A thought went through her mind that Crissa seemed to be on the right track to enjoy this anyway, it seemed men were actually decent sorts about this matter, most of them anyway.

He gathered up a black sack, another mark of a healer on the move, and led her out of his little house. "You know, if your friend was in a fight, I'll have to report it to the watch."

She nodded and said. "How much extra are injuries that look like a fight, but really aren't?" She slinked up close to him and let his knuckles brush over her bare thigh.

Pallin thought for a moment. "A bit more, but not a lot," he finally said. "It's rather easy to mistake one for the other." His hand came to rest on her hip, and she felt his fingers explore her walking muscles as she kept moving alongside him. That hand was warm, and soft, and she didn't really mind the touch, at all.

"Whatever it is, I'll pay it, happily," she said, smiling and putting her hand over his, showing him she welcomed the touch.



Feldare Tales: High Society Ch. 06



" " ‘ ' The healer stood beside the narrow bed. Crissa rested soundly, her wounds mostly healed. Peris smiled happily at the soft-spoken healer as he turned toward her. "She will be fine, but needs a day or two bed rest," he said. He face then shifted to a rather sardonic expression. "It's good that you forewarned me that her wounds might seem as if earned in a fight, else I surely would have thought them such."

"I feared they would, those steps can be tricky," she said, with utter solemnity. She stepped over to the cot and pressed a small, cool hand to Crissa's brow. "You're sure she's well? She was hi - er - rather she struck her head many times falling."

"Yes," said the healer, "she had some swelling in her mind, but I've seen to that, and the worst of the wounds. As you likely know, though, magic cannot mend a body fully, except that granted by the One, and that's hardly magic at all."

She nodded agreement. "More a miracle, I would think," she said.

A bright smile crossed onto the face of the healer. "As would I, young woman," he said.

He had been extremely gentle in treating Kenett and Crissa's injuries, his hands moving delicately over them as he expended magical energies from small red mana crystals. Peris had never seen those used before, but to those who had not the gift of magic, it was the only way to practice the art.

"Could I learn magic with those?" asked Peris, eyeing the crystals as he slipped them into his black sack.

Pallin looked at her a moment. "You seek to learn the arts?" he asked. "As a healer?"

Peris shrugged. "It seems an honorable and noble profession," she said.

"And a tiring one," said the healer, grunting as he lifted the sack. "You implied favors for my services, yes?"

Her eyes looked down shyly, this had been the moment she feared, or hoped for, as her whim flipped and turned in her mind. "Yes," she finally said, after achieving a rather appealing shade of pink to her cheeks.

"Good," he said, his voice filling with desires unspoken, softening and hardening all at once. "My home has not had a good scrubbing and cleaning in at least a year, life of a bachelor and all that," he said. "I expect you to be there by noon, and you clean until I am satisfied that the place is spotless."

Peris was not sure if she was pleased or annoyed by this change in tack. Surely any other forms of favors would be over quicker. However, he thought he was doing her a kindness in having her clean instead of lie down for her payment. She donned a bright smile that became truth in but a moment, as she realized how kind he must truly be. "It will be, then," she said. "If you are asked about injured parties this night?" she asked, suddenly worried for Crissa and Kenett's safety and the watch's possible investigation of the break in at the asylum.

"What injured parties?" he asked, suddenly appearing quite shocked. "I was called out by a fearful young woman who worried that her beau may have passed her something in their loving that she had not bargained for."

Peris barked out a laugh that caused Crissa to half stir in her slumber. She covered her mouth with both hands. "That's almost worse," she said, giggling. "But imminently believable, I should say."

The middle-aged man nodded. "Aye," he said. "One advantage of being a healer is that most folk believe whatever you tell them." He thought for a moment. "Which is why we do not lie lest we believe the need great."

The young noblewoman nodded. "I understand," she said.

"If I find that you have mislead me, and your part was ignoble in the events that led to these injuries. . ." he let the threat drift off into the night.

Peris looked up at him and said, "It's not, though rumors may say otherwise, please give us two weeks for you to see that."

"Two weeks, then," he said, giving her a nod and picking up his black sack.

She hugged his wide chest and squeezed hard. "Thank you," she said.

The healer patted her back and laid a small kiss upon her brow. "You did tempt me, you know?" he asked.

Peris nodded at that, then asked, "Why did you not demand the offered price, then?" Her expression was nonplused.

"I'm too old to be taking a girl's innocence," he said, smiling at her. Then he grinned even more broadly at the shock on her young face. "Of course a healer can learn these things," he said, patting her shoulder. "Had you been more experienced, I'd likely have gladly taken the offer."

"I'd have given it without complaint," she said, her eyes now again shyly looking downward.

The healer walked toward the door. "I know it," he said, chuckling. "Which is why I also know you will clean my house extremely well."

Peris pushed the door shut as he walked out into the thick fog of the night. She slid the long wooden bolt back into place to secure it and looked back at Crissa and Kenett, both sleeping quietly on the bed. She crawled onto the bed, as well, leaving on her clothes, and cuddled up beside Crissa, putting her head on the tall girl's shoulder. Crissa murmured something in her sleep, but did not awaken.

Soon, Peris joined them in slumber.

- - - - - - - - - -

"How can one man have so many socks?" asked Peris, looking at the huge heap of smelly footwear in the middle of the hall floor.

Pallin laughed from the study, where he was pouring over some musty old tome. "I find it easier to buy them than to have some winsome young lass come clean them," he replied.

Peris was now doubly unsure that he did her a kindness by not bedding her last night. The place, like many homes of unwed men, was a sty. Cleaning for four hours netted her but a room full of dirty clothes and an aching back. She was not the most efficient of cleaners, as cleaning was not a typical duty of young noblewomen, but this seemed a woefully slow progress, even to her.

"Take a break," said the healer as she struggled with a particularly unwieldy pile of clothing. "Come, sit in the study for a while, and have some tea."

She followed him into the study and sat in a proffered chair. Dread filled her eyes as she noted the layer of dust on the shelves and the disorder of the small library in general. "You just wanted me to see my future of indentured servitude, didn't you?" she asked, gazing about the room.

His eyes hardened a bit, more mocking than truly upset. "Do you know how much I normally would have charged for last night's aid?" he asked.

She shook her head.

"Fifty marks," he said simply. "Were I to seek to collect that from you, even given a premium value as you are a virgin, which only is good for the first time, it would take you most of a tenday, bedding five men a day."

Peris blanched slightly. "You're serious?" she asked.

"Very," he replied. "Your friends' injuries were serious, especially the young man's, in truth, he was more wounded, more deeply, than the young woman. He was dying, in fact."

"One save me," she sighed out under her breath.

"I'd say he was tortured, by someone who knew what they were doing," said the healer. "If my opinion were asked on the matter. By someone who knew exactly what they were doing."

Peris nodded at him, her face downcast. "He probably was," she said.

"And one might ask how it is that the apprentice of Marrat finds herself grievously injured, as well," said the healer. "Of course I know who she is," he said, noting her look of surprise. "I have to have my manastones charged by his other apprentice, the one who was arrested a couple of days ago. . ." his voice drifted off, something he seemed wont to do. "Oh One's mercy," he said in an exhaled sigh of air. "This is to do with that, isn't it?" he asked.

"It's likely best that you not know more than you do," said Peris. "For all of us."

"I see," said the middle-aged healer. "Still, it begs the question of what passes, though I'll leave it to your word."

Peris sipped the tea, it was strong, and perked her up slightly. Her back also stopped aching quite so much. "This is good tea," she commented.

"Yes," he said, taking a sip himself. "All the better to get a good days work out of a person." He grinned broadly at her mock look of annoyance. They spoke idly of her impending chores and finished the tea, eating some biscuits in the process.

A few more hours of the hard work and she returned to the little inn. Crissa was awake, sitting up in the bed, watching the door impatiently as Peris entered.

"He's not awakened yet?" asked Peris.

Crissa gave her a hard, upset look. "He has, twice," she said. "I've put him back to sleep both times. He's not happy with our ‘rescue'."

"What?" asked Peris.

"He says that he'll be killed," explained Crissa.

Peris thought a moment. "Did he say by whom?" she asked.

"He refuses to," said the sorceress. "Then he gets unreasonable and begins raving. That's when I put him to sleep." She cast an impatient glance at Kenett as he lay, sleeping.

"Whoever put that into his head surely is the same folk that tormented him," said Peris. "He was dying, or so the healer said."

Crissa's eyes widened. "Healer?" she asked. "I meant to ask you about that. Where did you find a healer, and how did you pay him?"

"The pay is still being worked off," said Peris, a tone of annoyance in her voice. "The where was the first one I came across."

"I hope you don't mean you. . ." Crissa let the statement go unfinished.

"No," said Peris, "though I was prepared to."

They both remained silent for some time, each taking their own counsel. Finally, though, Crissa broke the silence. "We need to calm Kenett when he awakens, and I don't know if just attaching him to one of us will suffice."

"He wouldn't get impatient with someone he loves would he?" asked Peris.

Crissa snorted. "It makes them love you, and often love or lust are rather over emotional," she said. "No, we need something more soothing to his nerves."

"Elves," said Peris.

The sorceress looked at him oddly. "Elves?" she asked.

"From what I know of him, elves are his whole life," she said. "He studies them ceaselessly."

Crissa stared at her for a moment. "Okay," she said.

- - - - - - - - - -

Kenett awakened and looked down at the coverlet. Beside him slumbered a pretty young woman with straw-colored hair.

"You have finally awakened," a feminine voice emerged from the darkened corner of the room, she was speaking elven.

He peered into the dim corner and his eyes gradually adjusted to make out the form of an elven woman sitting at the room's tiny table. As he watched in delight, she stood and walked toward him.

"Do you not speak?" she asked, walking fully into the light.

Kenett stammered a moment, and then said, "Yes, I speak, of course."

A huge smile formed on the elven girl's lips. "I am called Thenaldis," she said, placing her hand over her heart and bowing at the waist.

Kenett swallowed hard, almost bursting out of his skin with excitement. The only thing that kept him in the bed was his nudity beneath the coverlet. He had never actually spoken with an elf, and had only seen one once, when some elves passed through Norboro, heading northward.

"I am called Kenett," he said, his name sounded ugly to him, when spoken amid elven words.

"I am pleased to meet you," said Thenaldis. She smiled down at him, as he seemed to nearly twitch with excitement.

Kenett had never imagined an elven woman would be so appealing. He knew they were lovely beings, naturally, but to see one, up close and speaking to him, interacting with him was overwhelming. Thenaldis sat on the edge of the bed and the scent of cinnamon that he heard they gave off reached his nose. He sniffed deeply of it. Her silver eyes flickered in the candlelight of the room.

He glanced toward the tall girl beside him. He knew her name, but for the life of him could not remember it just now.

"You were badly injured," said Thenaldis, "and Crissa asked me to aid you."

The young man smiled at her. "Thank you," he said, performing a curt, elven head-bow.

Crissa, feigning sleep, was in truth working very hard, thinking very hard. She was filtering his perceptions of Peris, and even some of himself. He believed he was speaking and hearing elven spoken, while in truth, both spoke Westron. She ran their words through the lens of his perceptions with the result that he heard her speak and believed he spoke in elven.

Further, his perception of her appearance was likewise being changed to resemble what he thought an elven maiden should look like. Surprisingly for Crissa, convincing his mind was easy, as she could summon forth things that people felt affection for easily, and he loved elvenkind.

Long, delicate fingers reached to Kenett's brow and brushed back an errant curl. "We must know what you saw that night," she said in a soft voice.

Fear chased the mild pleasure from Kenett's face, a sudden panic quickly set in. "No," he stammered, "I cannot speak of it." He glanced at the door into the tiny room; sweat beginning to form on his brow. "They will know if I do."

Peris leaned forward, and Kenett saw the elven maiden widen her silvern eyes. "Who will know?" she asked. "Please, you must tell me for me to stop more horrible things happening."

He began to curl up, drawing his legs under the coverlet up to his chest and turning onto his side. "NO!" he screamed and pushed Peris away, knocking her from the bed, she managed to keep her feet under her and moved back toward him on her knees.

"You must!" she said in an urgent whisper. "Do not tell me I expended myself for one who puts fear before truth." She touched his shoulder, which had slipped from beneath the covers, her cool fingers moving over the warm, smooth flesh of his upper arm. "I was told you were a lover of all things elven." Her expression hardened, her silver eyes darkening to the color of steel. "Now I find that healing you was a mistake."

"No," he begged as she stood up and walked toward the door, a wash of cinnamon-scented air wafting over him. "Do not go."

Peris glanced over her shoulder and Kenett saw the elf give him a cooly regarding look. "You will speak?" she asked. "Or will you protect a murderer?"

- - - - - - - - - -

Some five miles north of Norboro, amid the ruins of an old farmstead, long abandoned, was pitched a concealed tent.

Cherle slipped through the flap of the tent and knelt before the seated figure. "We have done as you commanded, my lord," he said in a sober, placating voice.

"Yet?" asked the seated man. He had cruel and handsome features, with slicked back dark hair and hard, brown eyes.

The young nobleman found he could not meet those accusing eyes. "The elf-lover, our picked witness, was kidnaped from the asylum," he said.

"You were to watch him!" shouted the seated man, his eyes flashing to sudden rage. "I sent my best torturer to soften him and make him ready to tell the story we wanted to be told."

"And it was working my lord, he truly believes what we have told him to say," said Cherle.

"Which serves us in no good stead if he isn't there to act as witness in the young wizard's trial," said the seated man. Massive arms flexed in the dim candlelight of the tent. "It falls then to you and your coterie's word against his and his friends'."

"We are nobleborn!" exclaimed Cherle, his eyes widening.

"You're fools!" shot back the man, rising from the chair and pushing the kneeling youth back onto his rump. "They have a noble witness, as well, and they are gifted people, they are not commoners who can be simply shoved down the path to execution." He brushed past the young man as he walked to the far side of the tent. "You were to bring Lentan over to our camp gently," he said, forcing patience into his voice. "He was ripe for recruitment, yet you sprang the secrets upon him too quickly and he balked."

"Yes, milord," said Cherle. "He was not ready."

"So, instead of a new, influential Dark Alcolyte, we have a son of a nobleman dead and suspicion falls onto your very group of friends," said the powerfully built man. Even out of his armor, he was impressively large and powerful. "And now you lose the one key to throwing suspicions into another camp?" His dark eyes glinted with anger as he turned them upon Cherle. "Are you trying to destroy my hard works?"

"No, milord," said Cherle. "I serve the One as you do!" Panic was now set in his blue eyes. "I wish to serve as you do, milord."

"You could never be a Templar, boy," growled the man. "But you may yet become a true Alcolyte of the One, and serve me, and gain power as I gain power."

Cherle smiled hopefuly. "Yes, milord, I will serve you and take whatever gifts you deem me worthy to receive."

The Templar snorted. "Right now you deserve a slow death," he said. "However, I've need of you. Pray I change my mind of your worth before that need ends."

"Yes, milord," said Cherle, the smile flashing out of existence as quickly as it had come.

"Who kidnaped the elf-lover?" asked the Templar.

"The wizard's whore," said Cherle. "Or whores if you believe the rumors."

The Templar's eyes widened. "You couldn't stop a witch and a pitiable noble girl from taking him?"

"The sorceress is not a frail creature," said Cherle, again not meeting his lord's eyes. "And Peris is not a foolish girl, herself. We set two of the most violent and deadly of the asylum's inmates upon them, then called the watch to retrieve their bodies."

"A sound plan, all in all," said the Templar. "Yet it failed, I take it."

"The girls defeated the inmates, we know not how," said Cherle. "Assumedly, the sorceress did for them."

The Templar's expression became contemplative. "I fear we've underestimated Crissa's abilities and intellect," he said. "We've taken her rumored whoring as a sign of feeblemindedness or insecurity, which it apparently is not."

"No, milord," said Cherle emphatically. "She is smart, and strong willed. Carsten, who has been asking about her believes she beds the men because she enjoys it."

A wicked smile turned up the lips of the Templar. "A woman after my own heart," he said. "Were she not a heretic. You have to find them, and the elf-lover," said the Templar, coming to a decision. "Peris is expendable, do with her what you wish. However, this girl, Crissa, the sorceress, is to be taken captive, unless you must kill her. The elf-lover must be returned to the asylum to provide you your alibi."

"Yes, milord," said Cherle.

"Use the ritual of seeking which I taught you," said the Templar. "Use one of the lesser of the circle as the seeker, someone you can do without."

"Yes milord," repeated Cherle. "I know just the one."

Carsten had been showing signs of weakening in his loyalty to the One. He had also been something of an annoyance to Cherle of late. He would do nicely.

The lanky youth bowed again and kept a wary eye on the Tempar as he idly lifted his sword from a wooden stand. "And Cherle?" he said.

"Yes, milord," said the young nobleman.

"If you fail me again, hope I don't find you," said the Templar.

Cherle scampered from the tent and off into the darkness of the rural night.

"What do you think, witch?" asked the Templar, apparently speaking to the airs of the tent.

A shape shimmered in the dim light, and then became solid, as if a mirage was gaining solidity. She was a young, slender woman with long white hair. "He tells the truth," she said in a soft voice. "He is loyal still, Lord Grendahl."

Grendahl smiled. "I know he's loyal," he said. "Is he smart enough for this task?"

"Yes," she said. "He comes off a buffoon, but it is mostly show. He is up for the task."

"Go into Norboro," said Grendahl. "I want a second tine on my spear, seek for the two girls and the elf-lover. Kill Peris if you like, or play with her, your choice. I want Crissa, though, brought to me."




Feldare Tales: High Society Ch. 06



"Milord fancies another witch in his stable?" asked the slim woman, sidling up to him and running her sharply nailed fingertips over his shoulders.

Grendahl said, "Terena, I fear I could never meet your match, in either ability or appetite."

"This is true," she whispered into his ear, kissing his neck between words. "I serve you, mind, body, and soul," she said.

The Templar's hand moved down the witch's back and then palmed her small, round rump, pulling her toward him until her slight form was tight against his body.

"You try your arts on me?" he asked, glaring at her lovely hazel eyes.

"No, milord," she gasped. "I only seek to please you, in any way you ask." Her body writhed against his and he could feel her hands moving down his tunic, front and back.

He shoved her away. "I've taken enough pleasure of you, witch," he said, "and you've fed of enough energy from me, find your own source of power."

The briefest of hateful glares flashed in her eyes, but was soon masked, skillfully, by this consummate deceiver. "As my lord commands," she said, bowing low. "I will have the golden-haired witch before you in less than five days."

"Better," said Grendahl as she left the tent, the anger in her posture telling him she would do as he ordered, simply to spite him later, and so he would owe her a large favor.

- - - - - - - - - -

"His own friends?" asked Crissa, having heard Kenett tell the entire tale of that night. "Why would they do that?"

Peris shrugged and sat on the bed beside the sorceress, who was now sitting up and cupping her chin in both hands. She still had no clothing, but Peris would rectify that this night.

"Frankly, that makes less sense than Wenn doing it," said Crissa.

"They are young wolfling nobles. Who knows what slight may have set one to killing another?" said Peris.

"No," said Crissa. "What he described was a ritual, and it was more than one of them."

"But Kenett said only one launched the burning spell," said Peris.

Crissa sighed. "Ritual magic," she said. "It is something some of the churches do to heal their sick. The entire congregation gathers with one person leading. That leader becomes the focal point of a LOT of magical energy."

"A horrible ritual," said Peris.

"Agreed, but a ritual nonetheless," responded Crissa.

Kenett was sleeping soundly again, gently nudged into unconsciousness by Crissa after he had spoken the full tale of the night of Lentan's death to Peris in the guise of an elven maiden. "Will he recognize me when he awakens?" she asked.

Crissa shook her head and said, "Not likely, he fully believed you to be an elven woman; he will never associate you with her."

"You're saying I'm not pretty enough to be an elf?" asked Peris, pretending upset.

Crissa gave her a humored grin. "Not even an elf is as pretty as he thought that elven maiden was."

"That explains the agog expression he kept wearing," said Peris, looking at Kenett with soft eyes. "I really thought he loved me."

"He did," said Crissa with a wistful sound in her voice. "Would be that it was a permanent effect."

Peris lifted the coverlet slightly, revealing his bare thigh. "I should find him clothes, as well," she said.

"I don't know," said Crissa, giving him an appraising look. "He's rather a good-looking lad when not clad."

"Crissa!" exclaimed Peris.

"As if you've not looked yourself, girl," said Crissa, grinning at the younger girl.

"Only when I was tending his wounds," said Peris, giving self-defense one last try.

Crissa raised an eyebrow at her, and her smile broadened to huge proportions. "I don't believe he was injured there, in particular," she said.

Peris was blushing fiercely now, and covered her face with her hands. "I did, I looked at his manhood," she said, giggling. Both of the young women had a hard-earned giggle then, and felt their ages for a moment or two.

"I'm off to find you clothes," said Peris, putting on one of the cloaks and donning a head-covering rag that would hide her hair. "And some for our young stud there."

Crissa giggled again and rose to relock the door after Peris left. The shorter girl stood quietly in the doorway. "I'm very afraid, Crissa," she finally said.

"So am I," replied the sorceress. She reached out a hand and touched the cheek of the pretty young noblewoman. "Be very careful."

Peris silently nodded and stepped out into the fall fog that was already filling the streets, even though it was just after full dark.

Crissa should be doing this, she's more competent at all things than I, she told herself as she moved down the long street. Every motion in the fog made her start, her head turning alertly toward every noise. A cat caught her attention for a brief moment as it came bounding out of an alley's mouth, seeming huge for a fraction of a heartbeat.

She had prowled Norboro many nights, even more foggy ones than this, and had never feared for her safety.

Of course, that was before there were people about who might wish to kill her, and before she had become something of an outlaw.

Peris decided that she had to get word to her family, let them know what passes. She feared penning that letter, though, and feared even more the response from her father. Crissa had given her a name, Charel, a tailor, who would, from Crissa's word, give her clothes aplenty. She idly wondered as she turned onto his street, what Crissa may have done to make him that grateful. Quickly, she dismissed that from her mind, knowing she would not be comfortable with the answer.

Are you so much holier? A sudden thought sprang into her mind. You were ready to do the same to pay the healer, and you were actually looking forward to it, weren't you?

"No," she said out loud, in a quiet voice. "I was simply resigned to make the best of something."

Peris had reached the door to the tailor's shop. It was a tiny place, barely a shop at all, more of a stall attached to the front of a small home. She rapped on the door, her knock tentative in its softness and caution.

A few moments later the bolt was thrown back and the door opened a crack. Lamplight poured out in a narrow fan. "Yes?" a voice asked from behind the still mostly closed door.

"Hello," she said. "My name is Peris. Crissa seeks a favor of you."

- - - - - - - - - -

"Hold him well, lads," said Cherle as he watched the other members of his circle grasp the arms and legs of Carsten. That worthy seemed quite unwilling to be held down, and it took six of them to do so. "You will serve the needs of the One, Carsten," said Cherle.

He was wearing long, dark robes with red-trimmed sleeves. The other boys wore only black robes with no markings. Carsten was nude, his body glistening with the sweat of fear. "No," he grunted. "You're lying, he would never order this!"

"He has and I have chosen you," said Cherle somberly. Two other boys stood back from the six pinning down the writhing young nobleman, and four girls with them, young noblewomen, also of the circle.

Each had remarkably similar stories of how they had become members of the Circle of the Eye. It had been all in good fun at first. Emilee was the first, the eldest girl. She was reasonably pretty, and well liked. But when the man had approached her, a handsome man, who radiated power and vitality, and asked for her company, she happily obliged. Soon, she was recruiting the others into acts of more and more base debauchery.

They were soon conducting more dire rituals, and animals bled their lifeblood to feed the spells they wrought. They reveled in the petty power it granted them and they learned more potent rituals and conducted them. They prospered in small ways of little significance, ultimately, but seemingly important to young noblemen fascinated in minutia of status and power; bits of wealth, ill health upon their rivals, turning the eye of a favored person, and a hundred other little things that felt powerful and urgent.

Now the Templar who had recruited them and shown them how to achieve this power asked for some payment for that gift. Who were they to refuse a simple and minor request such as that?

Cherle began to chant and was soon joined by the outer circle. Shiran, the youngest girl, and the newest initiate, recruited by Cherle himself, shed her robe and walked up to the struggling young man.

"No!" Carsten shouted. "Stay back!"

She smiled down at him and lowered herself beside his head, stroking his hair with a gentle touch. "You know we must serve the One, as it is deemed needed," she whispered, her smile never leaving her expression. "Do not resist, for it will only make the service more painful."

He yanked his head from her touch, glaring at her. "They mean to kill me!"

"Those who die in the service of the True One never truly die, and you know that," she said, her eyes flashing with impatience. "If your faith is lacking, then you're an unworthy servant, anyway, and death is the only answer you deserve."

The six boys holding him pushed down harder, pinning him securely, only his head could now move, and his body at the waist a bit. She moved around them, crawling, almost like a predatory cat. Shiran moved up between his outstretched legs, lowering her head as she moved up and keeping her large blue eyes locked upon Carsten's.

She took his flaccid cock into her mouth and started to suck upon it, moaning as she did so. He writhed, but was unable to dislodge her and unable to stop his prick stiffening under the gentle suction and soft caress of her lips.

Cherle's chant gained volume and her head moved faster over his stiff rod. His arms were twisting in their sockets as he tried vainly to stop the climax that was forcing its way upward through his loins. There was a horrid sound of snapping as the bones inside his pinned legs snapped. The change was beginning.

"One save me! NO!" Carsten screamed as he came. The girl kept sucking until the last of his seed was spilled and she looked up gleefully as the change began. The other boys loosed their grips on the twisting and withering limbs. All of them began chanting, except Shiran, who smiled at the writhing shape as his body metamorphosed and his soul was ripped from it and ascended to the Portal of Forever.

The change was as quick as it was extreme. A few moments later, barely a dozen heartbeats from when his seed had spilled into the young woman's mouth, he was no longer human. In his place was a - thing - that resembled more a cat than any other creature. It had four short but powerful-looking limbs, each ending with long, bone-taloned feet. It was bare of fur, except a patch atop its head, where Carsten's blond hair had been. It's long neck rippled with strong muscles, echoed down its flanks. It turned a hateful glare upon Cherle and opened its maw to reveal rows of sharkish triangular teeth.

It took a step toward him, hissing and spitting blood in its fury.

"Stop," ordered Shiran.

The creature lurched to a stop and turned its wide-set blue eyes toward the girl. "Obey me, you serve me and the One through me."

It turned all the way around and walked toward her. Its scent was upon her, its nose twitched incessantly, sniffing the air. Between its strong hind legs, a long phallus extended, growing very long indeed, nearly dragging upon the ground.

"You wish to have me?" she asked, rising to her knees and opening her legs. Its head moved between them and sniffed at her entrance. The phallus bobbed obscenely between its hind legs. "Find the one named Crissa, the Whore of the False One. Kill the slut who is her companion and bring us the witch and you will have me."

The creature hissed again, baring its shark's teeth, then glared at the pretty young woman's face. "Obey," she repeated.

It hissed a last time and bounded toward the door of their basement chamber. One of the young men opened the door for it and it shot out into the night, a pink, fleshy blur vanishing into darkness.



Feldare Tales: High Society Ch. 07



Clad in new clothes, crafted by the skilled hands of Charel, Crissa sat near the door to their tiny room, watching people walking up and down the busy streets. She rarely saw the morning crowd of folk, and was fascinated by the sheer numbers of them. "What do they do so early in the day?" she asked. Normally, she would be fixing breakfast for Wenn, Marrat, and herself at this hour, not walking the streets.

"They go to market," said Kennet, sitting up on the bed and eyeing his tailored tunic with a critical look. "Most of the peasants like to get their selling and buying done before lunch."

"Peasants?" asked Crissa, giving him a wide smile. "Are we so far above them, then?"

"No," replied Kennet, his voice muffled by the tunic as he slipped it on, "I'm a peasant, too."

She giggled at him and averted her eyes as he climbed out of bed and pulled the pants on. Normally, she would never have done that, but he seemed to need her to look away, she could feel his embarrassment radiating from him like heat. "I've already seen you naked, as we tended your wounds, you know?" she asked.

"It's not the same," he grunted, pulling the belt tight. "I'm whole and hearty, now. You may be the same person who saw me, but I'm not the same person you saw."

She turned, sensing he was now safe. "Too bad, he was rather attractive and I had half a mind to comfort him more closely," she teased.

"You would have probably been disappointed," he said. "I'm not an experienced lover."

Crissa's eyes grew distant. "There are experienced folk who are poor lovers and there are skilled novices," she said. "More important is your desire for the person you're with."

Peris came walking up the cobbled street, grinning and holding a small wicker basket with a cloth covering it. "Breakfast," she said with a pleased expression. 

She was now clad in a somewhat more modest short summer dress of bright blue, rather than the elven outfit from the night before. Charel had been generous with clothes, giving each two full sets, all very well made and quite fashionable.

"Just because we are on the run doesn't mean we need to look like vagrants," said Peris as she unloaded the burlap sack earlier that morning. "At least that's what Charel said." She had looked at Crissa. "You must have impressed him mightily to be given such on your name alone."

Crissa had blushed deep red and whispered to Peris, "I wore less than my name last time Charel saw me."

News was upon the streets of a daring raid into the asylum and the disappearance of one of the prosecution's witnesses in the wee hours of the night. Guards killed and poor inmates, delusional fools, as well, dispatched in their very cells by the hoodlums. Most just shook their heads and lamented the waning of the elder days when wizards and their ilk had to keep their arts secretive.

Crissa's own disappearance was also noted, and some thought she had been kidnaped by the same evildoers. However, there were some who thought she might well be the one who had put others up to the raid, which was, by noon, said to have contained no fewer than ten well-armed men.

"All this fuss over me?" asked Kennet, still looking rather pale from the initial delivery of gossip. "I should turn myself in immediately."

"You'll do no such thing," hissed Crissa, standing from her perch on the little dresser near the door. "They'll kill you this time, rather than muck about with you and risk losing you again."

Kennet blinked at her, and the sudden burst of anger he palpably sensed come from her. "Kill me?" he asked.

"Have you already forgotten the gentle treatment at the asylum?" said Crissa. "Did you think it therapeutic to beat you daily?"

"They were trying to make me see the truth," he explained, reasonably.

"They were trying to force your mind to manufacture a new truth, out of terror," she said, walking right up to the young man, who was two or three inches shorter than her. "They very nearly succeeded. Luckily, Thenaldis told us what you told her, or their false truth would already be taking root in your mind again."

His eyes grew wistful and Kennet smiled. "Do you think I'll see her again?" he asked. "Thenaldis, that is."

"Yes," said Crissa, almost too quickly. "I'm sure you will." She knew, before the trial, she would have to bolster his courage, and Thenaldis would serve that purpose nicely.

Peris smiled as she unpacked the breakfast, some bread rolls and butter, as well as dried beef and cheap wine. "Thenaldis said she needed to check up on you, to make sure your healing took," she said over her shoulder.

"I wish I could remember her features better," said Kennet. "She's almost like a dream now."

"Most elven conversations are like that," said Crissa, nodding. She had no idea of what she spoke, having never met an elf herself.

"What do we do this day, then?" asked Kennet.

"Find a better hiding place," said Crissa and Peris, almost in unison.

"Well, if the rumors be true, we only need still fear those 'eye' people," said Peris. "Except Kennet, of course. So far as anyone knows, we're still not guilty of anything."

"That would change quickly if Kennet is found in our company," said Crissa.

"Speaking of that," said Peris, "how will he testify the real truth, if he's with us?"

"He's going to turn himself in at the last minute before the trial, directly to the courthouse," said Crissa.

"I am?" asked Kennet.

"Yes," she said. "That way you can testify and they won't have time to kill you, beforehand."

"Beforehand?" asked Kennet. "But plenty of time to do so afterward."

"Afterward, there will be no one free to kill you, they'll all be in prison, or dangling from the gibbet, themselves."

---

Terena, now wearing the guise of a young merchant's daughter, in a long sheer gown walked the streets, and used her wiles to ask questions of many, regarding an old friend of hers from Morrovale.

By noon, she had found out that Crissa had disappeared, not seen since yesterday, much to Marrat's chagrin. She forced herself into seedier quarters of the town, visiting shady dives that one could find, if one knew where to look. There, her looks alone would not win her information, but she had a currency that few in such places would refuse.

"Yeah, I saw her," said the dumpy innkeeper of a truly ramshackle establishment. "But I don't rightly know where she might have been going, my memory has been slipping of late, so distracted by pretty women and all."

For the third time that morning, she performed a favor for someone to parse some tidbit of near useless information from them. The first two would never be demanding such a price of a woman for mere knowledge again, assuming they recovered enough of their wits to speak at all. This man, however, repaid her efforts with something of use.

"They stayed here last night, but I only had dealings with the brown-haired girl," he said as she sipped the sour wine he provided her. It was stale and somewhat vinegary, but erased the taste of his seed. "However, she slipped off almost immediately, and I went to look and see what was about. When I peered into her room, there were two people out cold on the bed, a tall blond woman and a smallish, curly-haired man."

"You knew they were unconscious and not sleeping?" asked Terena, looking toward him and wondering if he would demand more payment before coming to the end of his tale.

"Well, I was just minding my own safety, and my business'," he said, as if explaining himself to her was necessary. But I crept in and tried to wake them."

She decided he more likely wanted to take a peek at the blond, but surely that was Crissa. "Was your business' safety resolved by looking at the tall one's body?" she asked, giving him a sidelong glance.

He blushed a bit, but kept talking. "She was tall, all right," he said. "Tallest girl I've ever seen, or one of them. Both of them had taken a pretty good thumping, though, and the boy's breath was rattly."

"Then what happened?" she asked.

"The little brown-haired girl came back with a older gentleman in tow," he said. He went into the room and spent a long while in there, then she and he left again. I went back but heard someone moving about inside and didn't go in."

She looked at him fully. "So quickly?" she said. "You said they were hurt badly and unconscious."

"Yes," said the fat inkeeper. "They were up and gone the next morn, this morning, just an hour or two ago."

"May I see their room?" she asked. "I assume you've not cleaned it yet." She figured he only cleaned them when absolutely needed. She saw a flash in the inkeeper's eyes as she asked this and sighed inwardly. "We could always inspect the bed while we are there," she added, pouring syrup and honey into her voice.

He walked her down to the room and opened the door. The bed was disheveled, but would have been anyway, soon afterward. Despite his prodigious belly and rather soft look, he was a rather aggressive lover and made good use of his tumble with her. And she made even more use of him.

Terena sighed as the sleeping inkeeper dozed beside her and she rose from the bed. "Not bad," she said with a lascivious smile. There was a glow of health about her and she radiated energy. If anything, the innkeep looked five years older than he had.

Using a half empty pitcher of water and a corner of the coverlet, she cleaned herself up and then dressed. She examined the room, and soon found a elven-style skirt under the bed. She lifted it and examined it. "It looks like something the whore would wear," she said. Her own promiscuity, in the name of the One and the service of a Templar, was another matter, and not the same as simply bedding men.

There was blood on the sheets, as well, where someone had lain. They looked to be the result of many small wounds, and the pillow on the other side of the bed had blood upon it. "You two were hurt badly," she said. "That man must have been a healer."

The innkeep stirred and she reached out her mind and sent him deeper into slumber. "Not just yet, my good man," she said. A silver dagger flashed in the dim room, darkening with the waning light of the day. She turned a circle, dribbling her blood onto the floor and forming a spotted ring about herself, at arm's length. As soon as the circle was complete, the wound closed and she slid the dagger back into her sheath upon her thigh.

Terena began to chant and turn in the circle, spinning in place. For long moments she did this, her chanting growing louder and more insistent. She could feel her mind expanding, first taking in the innkeeper and his slumbering thoughts, then stretching out farther. A minute later, she had the entire village in her mind, or a sense of it, and she stopped, feeling the thousands of myriad minds out there, cluttered, heretical, mundane and boring. A few interesting thought spiked out of the throng: People in the middle of rutting, or committing violent or abusive acts, or a hundred other sins.

She could not single out a single mind yet. Her hand took up the dagger again and slit, once again, her wrist and blood poured onto the elven skirt. Even as the wound healed itself, she felt her mind focusing and tightening its area. She had one mind now to feel, northward, and slightly frightened.

It was not the sorceress, though, but another girl. Peris.

She closed her eyes and saw Crissa standing nearby, felt some lust well inside her for the tall blond. Peris wanted her, and knew she could not have her. This just made the desire more taboo and exciting for Peris, or so Terena thought. They were walking down a street. Peris turned again to the sound of a male voice and she was now looking at a young man with curly hair.

They turned a corner and walked into a house. Terena felt it and where it lay. She could now find it again. Burning that into her mind, she watched some more. The tall blond girl, Crissa, turned to face Peris again and smiled for a half a moment, then frowned, staring at her.

A sudden interest came upon the Terena as she looked into those large, blue eyes. She felt almost as if she were being seen. "So you're not such a novice as I was led to be. . ." she was interrupted by a massive surge of energy, coming through Peris and from Crissa. She felt her body twitch and she was flung from the circle by a force like a physical blow, like she had been punched in the chest. She slammed against the wall, rocking the entire little bungalow and knocking the pitcher of water over.

---

"Why did you hit me?" asked Peris, looking at Crissa with betrayed eyes.

Crissa looked at her hard, her eyes like ice. "Your eyes changed color," she said. "Someone was there, not you."

"I was right here, and that hurt," said Peris, rubbing her chest, dead center, where Crissa had just punched her, hard enough to knock her down and against the wall of the tenement hall.

The tall blond helped her to her feet while Kennet looked on with an expression of confusion. "Does it hurt still?" she asked.

Peris seemed to think a moment. "No," she said, "now that you mention it, it stopped hurting."

"Yes," said Crissa, "because it just passed through you."

---

Terena lifted herself from the floor and unbuttoned her dress to her navel. She looked down and touched herself between her round, firm breasts. She felt a rib shift and pain lanced through her. "Much more powerful than I thought," she said, concentrating her will and mending the broken rib and erasing the spreading blue blemish of the bruise.

Much of the glow of vitality had left her, expended in the rituals and spells she had woven. She heard the innkeeper stirring again. A wicked grin came to her round face and she took off her dress again, crawling into the bed. He blinked up at her and smiled feebly. "Sorry, I must have fallen asleep," he said.

"It's okay," she purred into his neck, grabbing his flaccid organ in her slim fingers. "But I wish another, if you'd like."

He put his pudgy arms about her and pulled her to himself for a kiss. His rod was stiffening in her hand and she straddled his waist. A moment later, she was impaled upon his cock and riding him hard, bouncing up and down on him and kneading his chest with her fingers and long nails.

He passed out again as he spent himself into her and she climaxed as the wash of energy filled her. She drank deeper of him this time, knowing she would need more to face this other sorceress. Terena stood, wiping his spend from her thighs where is slid out of her and then giving the pudgy man a kiss on the cheek. "There you go, sir," she said. He would not awaken for at least a day and most of his brown hair had gone gray.

Terena nearly glowed as she walked onto the darkened street, still buttoning her dress' top two buttons, and walked north.

---

Peris looked about the dark apartment and peered into the farther corners of it. "You're sure we're safe here?" she asked.

Crissa shrugged. "Not anymore, no," she replied. "I don't know who was peering through your eyes, but your mind changed suddenly on me, then back, when I hit you."

"I told you that you hit me," said Peris with mock petulance. "How did you know it wasn't me?"

The tall witch looked down at her and gave her a very soft smile. "You were thinking lustful thoughts at me again, and it stopped, suddenly," she replied.

Peris blushed and looked toward Kennet, who was busy examining the view out the narrow windows. She was relieved he had not heard. No doubt, Crissa would not have said such had he been closer.

"What is this place anyway?" asked Peris, hoping to change the subject.

"It is a friend's apartment," said Crissa, pronouncing friend in such a way as to make it a topic of non-discussion. "He lives with a woman right now, but didn't wish to give up this apartment, should he need it."

Kennet turned about. "I live only three blocks from here," he said.

"And you need to not go there," said Crissa sharply. "They'll be watching for you there. Of us, you're the only one the watch is hot for."

Kennet nodded abjectly. "I could use some reading material, though," he said. "I'm bored, frankly."

Crissa walked up behind him. "I'll try to get something from Marrat's home while I visit with the barrister," she said. "You like elves, I hear."

"I love elves," he said. Once again, his eyes took on that distant stare.

"I'm sure I'll find something," she said. "Marrat has a large library."

The sorceress walked into the other room and came back with a long knife. It was a kitchen knife, not a fighting blade, and had a thin, fragile blade. "Here, for your protection," she said, handing it to Kennet. "Or in case young Miss Peris tries to ravish you."

The young man chuckled and took the knife. "Like I'd try to stop her," he said.

Peris blinked at that, wondering where such a flirtatious remark had come from. She had spoken to Kennet a handful of times at the academy, and never had noticed any interest from him toward her.

Crissa gave a soft smile and walked to the door. "Be cautious, you two," she said. "Be listening, I'll whistle as I walk up the stairs." They both nodded as she left.

The apartment was furnished in a minimalist fashion, as if the owner had taken all his small belongings with him, but had not the time to take the actual furniture. Peris threw herself onto the long, low couch and regarded Kennet as she sighed at a fatigue that came over her.

"Why are you so fascinated by elven folk?" asked Peris. "Not that they're not interesting, mind you, but in general."

Kennet walked over and sat opposite her in a big, padded chair. "I've always though elves were terribly interesting," he said. "Even before the goings on down in Morrovale, I studied them."

She grinned at him and his suddenly glittering eyes. "I imagine you like the new fashion of things elven, then?"

"Oh, yes," he said. "Quite aside from the far more - well - interesting appearance of young women like yourself and Miss Crissa in elven garments, just to know more people are studying them and learning of their ways and manners. I mean, there will be dozens of books written on them now, and more for me to study."

His massive speech, very out of character for the normally introverted Kennet, took her by surprise. "Why do you not go to them?" she asked.

"Go to the elves?" he asked in reply. "Just like that?"

"Sure," she said, reasonably. "They're just people. If they knew how much you knew of them and how much you wanted to know more, and most importantly, how much you loved them, they would surely let you come visit."

His face fell. "I fear their refusal," he said.

"It would hurt, wouldn't it?" asked Peris.

"More than death," replied Kennet.

She rose from the couch and sat on the arm of the padded chair, stroking his shoulder. "I don't think they would refuse you," she said. "I think they would welcome you as an elf-friend."

He blushed slightly at both the compliment and at her sudden proximity to him. "I would like to think so, too," he said in a tone that told her that he would not find out any time soon.

---

Moving like a flesh-toned cat, the beast prowled the streets. Sniffing at the ground and air. It would stop when people moved about and peer cautiously from shadows of alleys and leap to rooftops, padding across the tiles. Blood dripped from his jaws as he drooled and sought. Mystically, it knew its target, and sniffed the air for her.

This creature was no longer the young man whose meat had become its body. It was a demon, a spirit of the underworld, called forth by the ceremony to inhabit this flesh. Carsten's soul had been forced out, slaying him. Where he wound up, no one truly cared. That which took up abode was a vile spirit of malice and cruel intent.

The creature had but one intent: Lust. It desired to sate that lust upon the soft flesh of the girl who wore his scent. It would obey her to do so. She had commanded him, a simple command, so far as those went, and when he had completed his duty, he could have her. That was the way of the bargain, one task, then pay the price.




Feldare Tales: High Society Ch. 07



The girl would pay the price with her body and life. He would ravage the first, then take the other.

A bright light flared in his nostrils as he scented the target. Crissa. She had been this way, and recently. He loped off in pursuit of that scent. Perhaps he could ravage her a while, he thought. He needed to keep her alive, and he knew that, but he could make use of her, could he not? He could even kill the other target, Peris. Use her, then kill her.

---

Crissa watched Marrat's home for many minutes, paying close attention to the shadows across the street. A shape moved about in the alley two doors down. Just a subtle shifting in the darkness. Enough.

She reached out with her mind and found the hard, cruel mind of one of the young 'wolfling' noblemen. He was bored, and upset, probably at being put on such a seemingly unimportant task. She sent him into slumber with a thought. A soft thud was the reward to her ears.

A few more minutes passed as she found and knocked out another watcher, leaving him behind some barrels and walking across the street. She entered through the kitchen to hear Marrat's voice from the study. ". . .strange events, they truly are, Anasper," he was saying.

A deeper, very cultured voice replied to Marrat's rather broken, old voice. "Indeed, and I trust you've maintained at least the appearance of impartiality?"

"Of course, milord," replied her mentor. "I know well the laws."

Crissa slinked toward the study door, down its short hall.

"Hence sending for me as a barrister for your apprentice?" asked the deeper voice.

"Exactly, milord," said Marrat, sounding pleased with himself as he hefted two snifters of brandy and handed one to Lord Duke Anasper of Morrovale. The young duke took the goblet and sniffed at the quality brandy within experimentally, before taking a long, relishing sip.

"Crystern?" asked the nobleman.

"The duke has a good nose," agreed Marrat. "And those islanders brew excellent brandy," said Anasper, taking another sip. "However," he started a moment later, "I doubt very seriously that you called me here to show off a new bottle of brandy." His expression was one of curiosity, tinged with worry.

"It's my apprentice, the boy from Morrovale," said Marrat.

Anasper sat slightly more upright and sat down his brandy snifter. "Wenn?" he asked.

Marrat had to remind himself to not be surprised when Anasper remembered a person or event, he seemed to have a knack for such remembering. It was a skill that served a young and progressive-thinking nobleman well.

"Yes, milord," agreed Marrat. "He has been charged with murder, and he needs a barrister."

"You could have asked by letter for a reference," said Anasper, his expression turning a bit more worried and less curious. His eyes wandered over Marrat's shoulder and onto a bookshelf behind the old wizard.

"You know damn well I didn't ask you here for a reference, impudent duke," said Marrat, his face tinting pink.

Anasper chuckled deeply and picked up his snifter. "As a mage, you will be trying the case, I assume?" he asked.

"Yes, milord," said Marrat, again remembering his normal place. He had known Anasper since birth and was one of a handful of people in the duchy who could talk to the nobleman as he had.

"You want me to represent him?" the noble asked, voicing the obvious question.

"Yes, milord," agreed Marrat again.

"I would be delighted, but why?"

"I need a barrister who knows the laws of the duchy well," said Marrat.

Anasper chuckled again, and emptied his snifter. "Well, that I do, I suppose," he said.

Crissa walked into the chamber at that time, openly looking down at the duke. "Milord?" she asked, bowing low and staying bowed.

"Please, Crissa is it?" asked Anasper, "enough formality for a private moment." She rose again and he appraised her long form. "She is a tall young lady, isn't she?" he asked Marrat.

"You know of me?" asked Crissa.

Marrat laughed. "The duke makes it a point to know of wizards and witches in his lands," he said.

"You tell him about us?" asked the young sorceress, turning toward Marrat with more than a little accusation in her big blue eyes.

"It's part of my job, dear," said Marrat, refilling Anasper's snifter and also filling a third. "I am not just a wizard. I am the ranking wizard in the duchy."

"That he is," said the nobleman, still gazing upon Crissa. "We correspond regularly. But do not think it spying or such, but rather think of it as two friends telling one another of their lives."

She cast a dubious glance at the duke, then another at Marrat. "He is to be Wenn's counsel?"

"Yes, dear," replied the wizard.

"Thank you milord," she said, picking up the third glass and sipping the brandy.

"Crissa, where have you been?" asked Marrat, finally.

She sniffed as the brandy cleared her sinuses. "Hiding," she said.

"Whatever for, you're not charged with anything," said Marrat.

Crissa raised one eyebrow at him, then at Anasper.

"He is Wenn's counsel," said Marrat, "and I am not wearing the robes of judge just now, you can speak freely."

She sighed, relieved to finally speak openly. "Peris and I have been looking into things, and finding out what evidence is held against Wenn."

"Very good," said Marrat and the duke nodded alongside him. "But why the secrecy?"

"We've had to resort to some rather - unstandard means to attain some of the evidence and knowledge," said Crissa. "I'll not ask," said Marrat, holding up a hand when Anasper leaned forward to ask a question. "You know something of the raid on the asylum, then?"

"We know of it, of course," said Crissa, her ears turning red at the understatement. Crissa had never been much of a liar, and to lie to Marrat was harder still.

"I am going to do some studies on the laws," said Marrat, rising and draining his brandy. "You two may speak more freely as counsel and client." He moved out of the room, his blue robes rustling as he closed the door behind him.

"Tell me everything," said Anasper as the door clicked home. His face had suddenly grown stern but not upset. He was just down to business now.

"Wenn is innocent," she said. "The nobles have some sort of cult and they slew the victim."

"How do you know this?" he asked.

"We have the witness," said Crissa, looking away.

Anasper blinked a moment, and took another sip of brandy. "You?" he asked. "I had heard it was a full squad of soldiery that broke in there."

"Wrong, two girls," she said, smiling. "Granted one is a sorceress."

Anasper chuckled and shook his head. "I will expect a full telling of this tale eventually, it sounds quite entertaining," he said. "However, in the meantime, you must keep that witness aside and hidden."

"We intend to," she agreed. "You aren't wroth?"

"I would be, were I the duke right now," he said. "But, at this moment, I am your counsel, and Wenn's, not the Duke of Morrovale."

She sighed with further relief, expecting to have been punished for her acts so far, but also knowing such punishment would be less than Wenn was likely to receive.

"You should go back to wherever you have stashed him and keep watch," said Anasper. "Do not even tell me where he is. I will go speak to Wenn in the morning, and meet me here at midday."

"Yes, milord," she said hastily.

"Counsel," he interrupted. "When we are on this business, I am to be addressed as counsel."

"Yes, counsel." she agreed with a smile, meanwhile, she was rifling one of the bookshelves, peering at the writing upon their thick leather bindings.

Anasper watched Crissa for a long moment before saying, "I understood your learning of the arts was not based upon formal education."

"It's not, counsel," said the tall sorceress after a long pause. "I seek a book on elven folk."

The duke raised one thin eyebrow at her as she walked from that bookshelf to another, peering high and low for something with either elven writing or regarding elves. "I must say," he said, "I've noted a explosion of fascination for elven things since the coming of the Lady Hyandai."

Crissa nodded. "This infatuation that I seek to sate started long before her arrival, I think," she said. "The witness is very keen on elven things and people."

"Is he, then?" asked the duke, taking a sudden interest in the young man. "Does he know much already?"

"He speaks the language, from what I can tell," replied Crissa, pulling a large, thick tome from the shelf and opening it to peer at the pages.

Anasper hmm'ed to himself quietly as she carried that book from the shelves and carried it from the room. "I must be going, the watchers will be coming to soon."

"Coming to?" asked Anasper, again lifting his eyebrow.

A embarrassed smile came to Crissa's features. "I had to keep them from watching me come and go."

"I see," said the duke, nodding sagely.

With that, she was gone, moving down the hallway with long, ground-eating strides. She ran up the stairs to the turret room three at a time and rifled her own room for things. A few moments later, she emerged with the book stuffed into a bag, along with some other few items.

The duke opened the door for her and smiled as she went through. "See you on the morrow," he said as she gave him a curt nod. -

Terena turned the corner and watched as Crissa approached the tenement. "Hello, my sweet," whispered the witch, ducking back into the shadows of a doorway as Crissa took a brief look up and down the street before stepping into the stairwell.

With a quick chant, a few murmured words, Terena's shape shimmered, then faded to nothing. A faint bit of wavering air moved across the street, causing lamplight on the streets to flicker as she moved past, like heat waves. She slipped into the building and up to the first landing. She touched the door and felt for people beyond it, sensing only one old man. Moving across the hall, she felt a family with children, and a large dog.

She moved to the second story and used her arcane abilities to feel of that door, sensing two young women and a young man, she smiled. They were not near the door, and the stairwell was dark, just as the apartment was. She gently thumbed the latch and it clicked with a tiny sound.

Just as she pushed the door shut, she watched the tall blond pull a illumination stone from a sack, filling the little common room with light. There were the other two, as described, as well. The smaller girl, the brunette, would be an easy target, and the young man, perhaps easier still. However, the other sorceress had already proven she was not without power of her own, and was also physically imposing.

How would the young sorceress deal with an invisible foe?

That question still ran through the mind of the witch even as one of the windows exploded inward, showering the room with shards of glass and wooden splinters from the latticework of frame that held in the small panes.

The three were still in mid start as the beast bounded off the inside wall of the room, blood splattering the white painted surface. It was headed straight for Peris.

Kennet was still stunned by the sudden hailstorm of glass fragments that rained over him, and was only just now turning to face the motion deeper in the room.

Crissa had thrown up her arms automatically, and the light stone fell to the floor, casting odd shadows throughout the room.

The creature was halfway across the room when it stopped dead, skidding across the hardwood floor with a horrible tearing sound. Long grooves scored the surface, where its claws dug into the wood. He turned to regard Crissa, his eyes narrowing and a low rumble in his throat.

The tall sorceress locked eyes with the horrible creature, moving to her knees even as Peris and Kennet shied back and put the couch between them and the large cat-like thing. "It's okay," said Crissa, "I have his mind."

Her forehead was furrowed, though, and sweat ran down her brows. "It's resisting me, though, strongly." Otherworldly images rocketed around her thoughts, horrid torments, and terrible agonies. "The things it wishes to do. . ." she said, her face contorting in fright.

Terena raised her invisible eyebrows at this turn of events and she settled back against the wall to watch them unfold, deciding she could make her move if and when convenient.

The creature growled at Crissa in a lower register and her expression became even more worried and afraid. She fell forward onto her hands and then pressed her chest to the floor. The creature moved behind her splayed knees, sniffing at her like a dog.

"I can't stop," she said quietly, her eyes turning up toward Peris and Kennet. "His mind is too determined and strong."

Peris gasped as she watched the long, fat organ slide from a protective sheath between its hind legs. "One save us," she murmured.

Crissa thought furiously, trying to find a way around the control it had established over her through their mental link. She had made it love her, but its love was terrible. It loved her, in its fashion, and now it would have her.

Already, it ravished her in her mind, ripping her back with its talons even as it drove the obscene organ into her. She winced and tears ran from her eyes as she reached down and began to pull her dress up. She screamed at herself to stop, to not give herself to him.

His hot breath washed over her entrance as she revealed it to him and he snuffled there, burrowing with his nose. Her blue eyes craned downward and she gasped even as Peris had at the size and horrid shape of its huge phallus.

With another growl, and another flash of terrible imagery from his corrupt mind, he lurched back and landed his upper half upon her upraised rump. Long talons dug into her soft backside and she cried out, despite her inability to move.

Then the creature howled in agony. He turned to snap at Peris, who was pulling the kitchen knife from his shoulder and she stabbed at his face with it, slicing exposed tendons and sending a splatter of blood in all directions. With a lurch, he launched off of Crissa, tearing long gashes in her back and butt and he lunged for Peris.

His aim was disturbed even as it charged at the small girl and there was a resounding clang as one of the fireplace pokers rebounded from his thick, wedge shaped skull. He had already built up speed, though, and slammed into a wall, stumbling across the floor and coming up on his feet, despite the rather shaken stance it adopted, with legs widely splayed.

Kennet cocked back the long iron poker again, which was noticeably bent now. The creature growled at him with long, triangular teeth bared and blood spraying from his mouth. Crissa regained her feet and lurched for the sack she had brought with her. Even as her hand closed on the burlap, something grabbed her shoulder and tossed her back, stumbling upon her rump and she felt cold where the hand had touched. The bag fell at her side from numb fingers as that arm slumped to her side.

She looked about frantically, trying to espy her attacker now. "There's another in the room!" she shouted, fumbling for the bag again with her other hand as a solid blow landed on her cheek. It felt like a kick. She sprawled on the floor, her hand beneath her, thrust into the sack.

The creature was approaching the armed pair cautiously, growling with terrible menace as it advanced. "Just what we needed," said Peris, "more guests."

Terena moved about quietly, sliding a long knife from its sheath upon her hip. "Now, heretic, you die," she murmured.

Crissa rolled over, pulling her hand from the sack. She was holding another light stone in it and Terena wondered at why the young sorceress would waste her last motion to lift such a thing. "Flah!" screamed Crissa as she squeezed her eyes shut and grimaced.

A flash of light filled the room with such intensity that it caused even Peris and Kennet, who were facing the other direction to blink a few times as the scene before them burned itself onto their eyes. The creature had been half facing toward Crissa and he wailed as his sight left him, replaced by a pattern of black and white dots.

Terena, however, had been looking directly at the sphere. She screamed out as the entire world flashed white, then faded black.

Wenn had specialized in light spells, after all, since early in his apprenticeship. Crissa pried her eyes open, having seen a near blinding light even through her hand and eyelids. The shape was still invisible, or nearly so, she could vaguely make out a shimmering outline by her side and lashed out with a booted foot, kicking the shape's ankle. It was screaming in a feminine voice, and Crissa met few women she could not best in a fair fight.

Terena's feet flew out from under her as she tumbled to the floor. The long knife slid across the wood, becoming visible as soon as it left her hand. Crissa dove for it, even as Terena tried to crawl toward the sound, blinking her invisible eyes to try to clear the darkness that had engulfed them.

The creature backed up, unsure what to do with the vague blurs that filled his vision now, slowly, very slowly, becoming again forms. He launched itself for one shape, tearing a great chunk of the couch out with its claws and teeth. The fireplace poker hit his neck and he howled in pain and aimed for another vague shape.

Crissa's fingers closed on the knife as she felt another person trying to crawl over her, punching and kicking at her. Then she felt small, sharp teeth sink into her shoulder from behind.

She jerked the dagger back and up, aiming for over those teeth. The released her with a ear-splitting wail just inches from her head. The shape rolled half off of her and she helped it finish that roll, leaping to her feet with a powerful thrust of her long, muscular legs. A small chair near the doorway slid aside as something rolled against it and there were the sounds of a body tumbling and scrabbling for purchase.

The creature had launched himself at Peris, and she dodged the clumsy attack with relative ease, only losing a bit of skin off her shin as he raked his bloody claws past her. She cut at it with the knife, just trying to do some damage, and managed to slice deep into his neck, sending another gout of blood splattering over herself.

Terena scrabbled for where she thought he door was, and tried to turn over. The big sorceress had tossed her off her back like a sack of flour and she knew she would never win without seeing her opponent. Before she could regain her feet, however, Crissa landed full on her back, driving her face into the floor and pinning her down. "Have you now, bitch," growled the young sorceress at the witch.

Crissa plunged the dagger up and toward where she thought ribs were. She felt it bite and dive deep into flesh and meat. Terena wailed as the dagger drove itself into her gut, spearing her belly.

Again, Crissa struck, aiming a bit higher, and the shape stopped struggling under her with a soft wheeze. Blood spread upon the floor where she had pushed it into the invisible opponent. Crissa lifted herself to her knees and turned to see Kennet take a nasty wound to the leg from the blindly flailing creature.

Peris sliced him again, the blade skittering off dense bones in his chest. Crissa reached out with her mind again, this time only to distract it. It turned its eyes toward her, blinking with bloody slobber pouring from his maw. She again felt him taking the link over and preparing to drive back into her when Kennet, both hands clutching the poker, brought it down on the creature's finally stationary skull with a sickening crack. The poker broke off in his hand, but the creature slumped to the floor.

It was still breathing, but Crissa felt its command of her drop again. She walked over to the creature and, with a look of measured coldness, slit his heaving throat open. A wide spray of crimson splattered the wall and her arms to an ugh of disgust from Peris.




Feldare Tales: High Society Ch. 07



"Who's that?" asked Kennet, looking over Crissa's blood spattered shoulder.

Crissa spun about, lifting the dagger before her again. The person she had stabbed with the fighting knife lay there, the magic bending the light around her gone in her death. She was clad in a silken gown and was only, perhaps, a few years older than Crissa, with raven hair.

"A sorceress," said Crissa, kneeling beside the corpse. "I think it was she which I felt in you, Peris." She looked down into the triangular face of the woman, with a delicate, pointed chin. The young sorceress closed the witch's staring, dead eyes and said a quick prayer to the one, though she doubted he would hear an entreaty for someone of evil.

"And what is that?" asked Peris, still clutching the kitchen knife in both hands and pointing its bloody, no longer pointed blade at the creature.

Crissa shrugged and shook her head. "I've no idea, but I'd wager some magical construct," she said.

"Flesh hound," said Kennet in a low voice, as if he were afraid to speak.

"What?" asked Crissa.

"It was a flesh hound, a demon," repeated the young man. "I learned about them in church, or in the church's archives."

"You think these two are related to Wenn's trial?" asked Peris

"Unless we're just attracting random witch and demon attacks, yes," replied Crissa, sarcasm edging into her voice.

Peris sat down on the partially shredded couch. "Well, you are a sorceress, yourself. Perhaps it was professional jealousy."

"I'm not that kind of witch," hissed Crissa with more venom in her voice than she intended.

Peris' eyes grew round and worried. "I didn't mean. . ." she said. Every aspect of the petite brunette's pose and features showed great fear and concern.

Crissa interrupted her by saying, "I know, sorry. But I also know I'll be battling that image for my whole life, if I let even a tiny bit of it pass."

"What should we do now?" asked Kennet.

"Find another hiding place," said Crissa without a pause. "We have to assume the others know about this one also, and this was just the first wave of a storm.

Kennet picked up the glass orb that had emitted the blinding flash. "Just don't say 'flah' while you hold that," said Crissa as she kneaded her limp arm, feeling started to return to it, though it now hurt.

"Does that make it flash, as it did?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied, a tired tone in her voice. "Wenn made it, one of the first true enchantments he's done." 



Feldare Tales: High Society Ch. 08



Crissa slipped the orb into a pocket of her dress, peering about the room.

Peris was examining the witch's body closely, but moved as if fearful.

"She's quite dead," said Crissa. "I slid a dagger between her ribs."

The petite noblewoman looked over her shoulder at Crissa, almost as if for the first time, truly seeing the tall, golden-haired sorceress.

Crissa was nearly staggered by the fear she felt from Peris. The girl was afraid of her. A demon-beast lay on the floor next to a formerly invisible sorceress, and Peris was afraid of Crissa.

A smaller measure of that same fear came from Kennet. It was vague, thought, and may well have simply been general fear, which was perfectly reasonable.

"Peris," said Crissa, suddenly very desirous of the girl's trust, "I only did what I had to."

The girl moved the sorceress' body into a loose approximation of a funereal pose, with her legs together and arms crossed over her chest. She then covered the corpse with a sheet from over one of the cabinets which were all draped against dust. Blood immediately soaked through the thin cream-colored linen.

Kennet did much the same for the demon's body, if simply to remove it from sight.

The mood in the room was somber, and the fear was almost palpable to Crissa, and it smelled bad to her, almost made her angry. Her showing anger right now would only amplify that fear, she knew.

"Pack your things back up, we're leaving," said Crissa.

"To go where?" asked Kennet. "We've fled from spot to spot, and nowhere seems safe."

Crissa curbed the flash of anger that welled up inside her with an effort, an effort both her companions saw. Though he had questioned the order, Kennet was shoving loose items into a sack. Peris had not even questioned her, she was even more fearful of Crissa.

A motion in the corner of her vision caught her eye and Crissa turned to see that the piece of furnishing that Kennet had fished off a cloth from was a small wardrobe, out of place in the common room. It had a tall, slender mirror on the top. Regarding her reflection in the mirror, she saw a tall, stark woman with callous, angry eyes staring back at her.

 

Do I truly look like that? she asked herself, and the reflection softened the tiniest fraction with a trace of worry. One save me, no wonder they are fearful. She had little reassurance to offer them, though, and no comfort.

"That's all of it," said Peris, standing from her packing, lifting a rather meager looking sack of goods.

Crissa had managed to stuff all she had brought with her back into the sack, which was still spilled across the floor from the fight. They pulled on their cloaks, again, kindly provided by Charel, and slipped from the apartment. The people across the hall were peering from behind a cracked door, and she knew the watch was on its way.

Such a disturbance in a law-abiding home would bring down the watch with certainty.

With haste, they slipped across the street into the very alley in which had lurked the witch prior to her attack on Crissa. The sounds of booted feet came clomping up the cobbled street as they moved hastily through the muddy alleyway. "Move quickly," hissed Crissa, wanting to change directions again as soon as possible. Surely the helpful neighbors in the building would soon point the guards toward that alley.

"In here," said Crissa in a low voice and they turned into another alleyway just as three guardsmen stormed into the muddy alley. Two had torches and flickering light illuminated the alleyway.

Crissa stood at the mouth of the side alley, as if she were denying the existence of the guards and the main alleyway. Her arms were outstretched and her fingers splayed, along with her long legs. Even her toes pointed outward. It was as if she were a cat, trying to make herself larger than she really was.

Peris watched the concentration on Crissa's face as she stood.

The guards ran right past them, though they were not ten feet away, and easily within the illumination of the sputtering torches.

The guards stopped at the far end of the alley and their voices came drifting back. They sounded oddly muffled, like they were speaking through a wall.

"One's blessing, what was that thing?" asked one of the guards.

"Looked like a skinned dog to me," said a second.

The third barked a laugh. "No dog I've ever seen has teeth like that," he said. "It was a magical beast."

The other two nodded assent. "And the woman with the dark hair?" asked the first again, apparently full of questions.

"No idea Derlen, no idea," said the authoritative-sounding one. "But, mark my words, she was a sorceress, you saw the markings."

Crissa saw her companions look fleetingly at her. With her arms stretched for the sky, her sleeves had slid up to her shoulders. No markings marred her smooth, fair skin.

The guardsmen moved away from the mouth of the alley, their torchlight with it, casting the trio into darkness. Crissa slumped forward and lowered her upstretched arms.

"You hid us?" asked Peris.

Crissa was breathing as if she had run a mile. "Yes," she said between gulps of air, "but I didn't know if I could."

"Invisibility," said Kennet, awe filling his voice.

A weak smile formed on Crissa's lips. "More like a blanket, really," she said. "They expected alley wall, so I just made it somewhat more real."

The fear the two had for her was abating somewhat, replaced by respect and some wonderment. This felt much better to Crissa. She would rather Peris keep lusting at her than be afraid of her.

A few minutes later, they slipped out of the alley and down another street. The guard was not making a great effort to apprehend the killer of a sorceress and her monstrous minion. Crissa idly wondered if her death would be regarded as much a favor as a crime.

The village by night was cold, and fog had begun to roll in off the river that bisected it as night wore on. Peris was shivering. As fine a tailor as Charel was, he could not make clothes good for warm and cold weather at the same time. As it was late spring, he was crafting clothes for the upcoming summer, and these garments were meant to be worn then, not now.

They skirted the lamplight in front of several inns. To Kennet's curious looks, she said, "I'm well known in many inns, and do not wish to be remembered passing by."

He let that go without asking other, more uncomfortable, questions. Peris simply smiled slightly and a reassuring wave of lust toward Crissa moved out from her that made Crissa blush for the first time in hours. You did say you'd prefer it, she thought.

It was surprising how many folk of Norboro were up and about at such a small hour, even Crissa. Though she moved in the night, she almost was never still out after midnight, usually closeted away with a partner by that time.

"Where are we going?" asked Peris.

They moved around another corner and were across the street from a half collapsing old building. "There," she said.

"Hardly a comfortable home," said Kennet.

"Master Marrat owns that lot," she said. "He was given it for some services to a merchant."

They moved quietly across the darkened street, a dog barking in the distance, though probably not at them and amid the tumble of wood and rock. "Wenn and I looked it over for him and it has an intact basement."

She looked around in the darkness until her eyes spotted the particularly darker patch of black and made for it. The other two followed and she led them down some rough-hewn stairs until they all came to a stop, bumping into each other. There was a door. Crissa opened it and they moved into the utter black beyond. The door thudded shut and she pulled out a light stone, saying, "Light," as she did so.

The blue-white glare of the stone momentarily blinded them before their eyes adjusted to it. The chamber was about twenty feet to a side, with massive oaken timbers supporting the mastonry roof. Moisture glistened on one wall and a drip could be heard from in the back corner, at the edge of the light stone's illumination.

"It's hardly palatial," said Crissa. "But almost no one knows about it, and it's scryguarded."

"Scryguarded?" asked Kennet.

Crissa knew Kennet knew a little of magic, and things magical, and she regarded him. "You know what it means," she said.

"Yes. I asked more as to why," he said.

A wan smile formed on the sorceress' lips. "I have my own, very personal, reasons, for wards about," she said. "Let me just say that they protect those without, rather than those within."

"There is a barrel of water back there, follow the dripping sound," she said. "It's under a fountain, so should be drinkable. There are no beds, sorry, but we have blankets, and the floor is more or less dry."

Kennet sat down and pulled out the second light stone, repeating the light command, and more light filled the chamber. Crissa smiled to see Wenn's handiwork being put to good use.

Peris moved to the water barrel and cupped water into her mouth, pronouncing it fine to drink, unless it was bad in a very subtle way.

The tensions of the night caught up with Crissa and she knew that she should either go to sleep or find a cooperative person to work them out with.

Eyeing Kennet with a appraising look, she decided on the former, to maintain equanimity in the trio.

Kennet, however, approached her as she unfolded a blanket onto the floor. "You said the elven woman would see me agian, but how will she find me?" he asked.

Crissa blinked at the question for a moment before her mind caught up with his words. "Well, elves have a way with things like that, I guess," she said.

A slightly dubious look came into Kennet's features and he said, "Elves have few senses we don't. They can see better in the dark, but overall, it's still sight."

"She's a shaman or some such," explained Crissa, trying to rewrap his mind with the elven imagery she had filled it with. "I don't understand their workings."

He nodded. "I thought as much," he said. "That's how she healed us."

Crissa gave him a curt nod and started to lie down. "Almost I wish I had not seen her," he said wistfully, causing her to open her eyes again and half turn over to face him.

He was now sitting beside her, on the bare stones of the floor.

Peris was spreading a blanket near the door, humming to herself and studiously ignoring the two of them.

"Why?" asked Crissa. "Don't you wish to meet elves, one day?"

He sighed deeply and gave a very tiny smile. "I have all my life, yes," he said. "But, here I am, doing exciting, adventurous things, with two beautiful women, and all I can think of is how lovely she was."

Crissa smiled at him, extending a hand to stroke his cheek. "You're a good man Kennet," she said, very soberly. "You might should think less on elves and more on the people you see daily."

In a infinitely tiny voice, he said, "I wish I could."

Crissa did not even notice what she was doing. Before she could stop, she had reached out with her mind and touched his, changing his perception of her, ever so slightly. Softening her features, and heightening her fair points.

She leaned forward and kissed Kennet, and he responded eagerly, returning the kiss and putting his arms around her. Despite his slenderness, he was a man who did perform labor, at least sometimes, and the arms were strong and the embrace with them.  

A gentle pull brought him over onto the blanket with her, lying half atop her body. She felt his organ in his pants stiffen at the prone, intimate contact and smiled inwardly as their lips continued to press together. She let the mental illusion go, it having served its purpose of getting him started. Most men, once moving, did not stop easily.

Kennet proved no exception. She had invited him, and now he was responding. One of his hands, surprisingly soft, slid up her thigh, under her knee-length skirt. She did not resist him. She was in a safe place, she did not resist anything. It felt wondrous to let her feelings go, for the first time in many days.

His fingers felt hot on her thigh as he moved them upward, finally coming to the crux of her legs and moving over the slick wetness of her opening. She had eagerly anticipated this and was already halfway to being ready before he arrived, as any good hostess would be for unexpected guests.

Still, she sighed at the touch, so enthused and eager. This, more than any other reason, was why she took new lovers, for that fumbling, eager, discovering touch. It felt wondrous each time it happened. Some were skilled, others caring, still others clumsy and charmingly inept, but always they brought that feeling to their touch and mind.

Kennet, being a man of full years, and still a virgin, brought more of that feeling than most. She felt the waves of his pent passions flowing over her and they took her breath away in a way that no man, save Wenn, their first time, did.

Her hands groped at his belt, tugging at the clasp, every bit as clumsily as a girl who knew not how to handle a man. This was another feature of such lovemaking, she almost became a virgin with Kennet, so powerful were his half-fearful feelings.

Finally, though, the belt came open and her hand darted into his pants, groping for his stiffened rod. Her fingers found it and gripped, forcefully, the engorged thing, hearing the sudden gasp from Kennet as, for the first time he knew, his cock was touched by a woman.

She smiled at the mixture of shock and excitement on his face and pulled him down for a kiss as she started to stroke the cock in her slender hand.

Kennet's own fingers lost some of their clumsiness and uncertainty with her, and one moved into her, eliciting a gasp of her own as the digit parted her lips. "Rub gently at the top," she whispered hoarsely, "just above the rest."

The now wet finger pulled out of her and moved over the nub of her clitoris. She arched her back and groaned softly at that and sighed, "There," as he moved back and forth.

Crissa's hand had fallen idle in her pleasure, and now she resumed stroking him. His pants were around his knees now and she moved around, twisting her upper body to bring her head to him.

Her warm, soft lips formed a seal around the head of his penis while her hand continued to stroke. She noted his finger on her clit had stopped moving. This was fine, as she had intended to surprise him.

When she looked up, she saw a stunned look of ecstasy on his face as he watched her. She kept her eyes upon his as she moved her head back and forth, leaving a glistening gleam on the shaft.

He seemed to have been holding his breath and released it in a shuddering moan and grunted, "One's blessing," even as he spent himself.

Crissa smiled at him, pulling back and letting his prick drop from her mouth. He had his eyes closed, his mind working furiously behind the lids. She could feel his emotions swirling there. Lust, desire, fear, pleasure, excitement, amid other, more subtle tastes.

A moment later, his fingers began experimentally moving over her entrance and she spread her long thighs apart to allow him freedom of motion. He looked down at her slit, then at her eyes. She nodded and he moved over and down, touching his tongue to her while she untied the skirt's bindings. She sighed as he made contact and began moving his mouth over her.

While not the finest at such things, the young man was more than adequate, and possessed of impressive drive. He mouthed her with a passion that bordered on mania and made small sounds of pleasure and excitement. The thoughts he harbored were more exciting than the contact to Crissa, though the two together quickly had her squirming and moaning beneath his fast moving tongue.

Her fingers moved to his curly hair, the texture thick and heavy, like corn silk. She was bucking upward, and held his head in a strong grip, the strong muscles of Crissa's arms holding his skull fast and allowing her to choose the positioning of his tongue with precision.

She came loudly, moaning and calling out her pleasure in incoherent words. Her praise just seemed to feed Kennet's fire and he mouthed her harder and faster, eliciting a second orgasm on the very heels of the first. "Take me now," she groaned as his tongue slowed. "Take me fully."

He moved atop her, running his hands along her long, slender waist. Her eyes flashed in the reflected light of the stones and she tried to smile reassuringly at his somewhat fearful look. "You're doing more than well, Kennet," she said. "Many men cannot make a woman climax, even with the full act."

A grin formed on his lips and he moved up slightly, pressing the soft head of his cock to her entrance. She strained upward to try to force entry, but he held back a moment, thought crossing his face. "Now," she begged, pushing up again with her hips.

He drove his cock into her. It was no timid motion of a novice lover, but the impassioned entry of someone sincerely wanting to take someone. She felt taken and the sensation was wondrous.

Their bodies found a rhythm quickly and they settled into it, straining together and both seeking the same goals while helping the other to their own. Crissa rarely felt a bond so close during her flings, and she revelled in the connection. Such links rarely lasted long, and she rode this one for all its worth.

When they climaxed, it boomed like thunder in a valley, reverberating between the two of them. His lust for her feeding into her own, which would rebound back to him. Their climax was both powerful and enduring, their bodies arcing into one another's and their peals of ecstasy blending to a ear-splitting sound.

Then it was gone.

Crissa blinked open her eyes and looked down at the shock of curly hair on her chest. Kennet was breathing heavily, gasping in air. Her own breath was ragged and irregular. She moved her hands over his back, stroking his sweaty skin and sighing gently.

"Lover, count yourself one of few," she said in a low, husky voice.

Kennet lifted his head and smiled weakly. "Is it like that every time?" he asked, his eyes wide and staring.

"Not really, lover," said Crissa. She used that title for men after their passions for a long while, at least until they parted company. "Though once is enough, no?"

He nodded. "I could stand it to be a bit less - intense," he said, laying his head between her ample breasts. She continued to pet his back. He was soft now, his cock was, and she wondered how long she had been senseless.

"You could warn a girl," said Peris' petulant voice from the other side of the room.

Crissa's eyes shifted suddenly and she looked to where Peris sat on her own little pallet of blankets, staring at the two of them. "Oh, One save me," she said in a whisper.

Peris smiled at her, though, and her petulant look evaporated. "Be glad I did not ravish you myself," said the girl, looking at her body.

"What stopped you?" asked Crissa, rather startled by that very fact.

Peris sighed and her smile became lopsided with wryness. "A girl keeping her 'purity' for so long learns to handle matters," she said, but then her face shifted to one of seriousness. "Though it was a sore trial not to pull him off you and make use of him after you finished."

Crissa looked down. "I apologize, I didn't think before I started," she said. "And once I started. . ." A soft snore came from Kennet as he lay atop her. She grinned at him. "I think he's tired," she said.

"He should be," replied Peris, looking at the young man. "He went at you for almost half an hour after you went unconscious. I believe you climaxed in your sleep."

Crissa blinked at her for a moment, wondering if she were serious, but decided to let that remain Peris' own secret. A sharp soreness between her legs made her think that maybe she was speaking truth.




Feldare Tales: High Society Ch. 08



Gently, she moved Kennet off of her and he lay on the pallet, sleeping soundly while she rose and walked to sit beside Peris. "I apologize for exposing you to that," she repeated. "I know you're trying to keep your virginity."

Peris' hand stroked Crissa's long, straw-colored hair and she moved it on down over the sorceress' bare back. "It's okay," she said. "You got caught up in a moment, it was rather interesting seeing you really doing as you might."

A fresh surge of lustful feelings pulsed outward from Peris as she touched Crissa's bare flesh. The fingertips felt cool after Kennet's warm touch and she did not flinch away.

If Peris wished to touch her, after her exposing Peris to the rather unpredictable full release of her abilities, she would not stop the girl.

A sadness tinged that lust, Peris knew she did not seek the touch of a woman, and it hurt her inside. This saddened Crissa and she wished she could change herself to suit the other girl's needs and desires.

A weak smile flitted across Crissa's face as Peris continued stroking her back. "You're very pretty, and if I did take to women, I would seek your company in an instant," she said, then kissed Peris.

Peris' eyes shot open at the kiss, then closed softly as she let it happen. Crissa was a skilled kisser, even barring the additional punch that she could weave into anything even remotely sexual. When they parted lips, Peris looked at Crissa with curious eyes.

"Nothing?" asked Peris.

Crissa looked down. "Nothing," she confirmed.

Peris gave her a hearty smile, still touching her back with those slender, cool fingers. "Well, I can't say you didn't try," she said.

Crissa was exhausted, which surprised her. Usually, she had more energy after lovemaking than before. Master Marrat said that she was taking energy from her lovers and that many did so without even knowing what they were doing. Crissa's taking of that energy was more notable to herself as she was aware of things more acutely, but many did it, even unawares.

This time, it felt more as if she had given up the energy, rather than taking any.

She slumped against the supportive shoulder of the shorter girl, laying her head on Peris. "I'm tired," she said.

Peris urged her to lie down and curled up behind Crissa, pulling them close together. Crissa let herself be held, it felt good and Kennet was in no condition to hold anyone.

- - -

Lord Grendehl, Dark Templar, dropped the girl to the floor. "I see why Cherle did not relay this information himself," he grated out through clenched teeth.

Shiran rubbed her slender neck where the templar had lifted her from the floor by the throat. "Milord, I am loyal and without shame, I did my best," she rasped hoarsely. "It was I who placated and offered to the beast for your service."

He smiled down at her, a cold, callous smile, but one that softened a bit at her words. "I know this, Supplicant Shiran," he said. "I appreciate your efforts, but condemn the results. Such a creature should have been guided, even if by your own hand."

She nodded, lowering her head to the floor. "I was not told that milord," she said.

Grendehl sighed. "Were you told to seal the bargain?" he asked.

"Milord?" she asked, looking up.

"I thought not," said Grendehl, scowling. "Cherle wished to keep you for his own use, I'm sure."

He reached out a hand, stroking the soft hair of the young noblewoman. She was fair, and he regretted the necessity of having to mar that beauty. "I will need you to perform the ritual again, Shiran, can you do that for me?"

"Yes, milord," she said, lowering her head again and kissing the hem of his robes.

"The whole ritual," he said, making his point clear. "It will be painful, but you will become my advisor for your pains."

She blinked up at him, stunned and pleased. "But the sorceress?" she asked.

"Is dead," said Grendehl. "She did just the thing I feared, and underestimate this Crissa girl. I trust you won't make the same mistake?"

"No milord," she said, kissing his hem again.

"Tell the circle to come to, me, all of them," said the templar. "Rise and stand, my advisor."

She stood, her whole body quivering with the pleasure that tore through her frame. Even her breathing was short and coming in gasps. "Milord, I am beyond honored," she said.

"Remember that as you complete the ritual," said Grendehl. "It will be a difficult moment to keep your rewards in mind."

"I will, milord," she said, with conviction.

"Go fetch them," he said. "We've no time to waste."

She bowed and fled the small tent with a broad smile. If she survived these events, perhaps he would take her as an advisor, in truth. If not, he could always use another slave on the Isle.

- - -

Crissa awoke with a start. Peris was now before her and she had the petite girl curled before her with her own body wrapped, protectively around her. The lilac scent of Peris' hair wafted through her nose and the sleeping dreams of the girl, and the emotions it was eliciting in her slumbering mind were sweet and carried much the same scent as her hair.

Kennet was sitting nearby, reading the book Crissa had brought, on elven religious rites, with fascination. Crissa smiled at his single mindedness. Here were two nude girls, lying only partially covered, as she noted a draft on her nethers, and he was looking at the book.

With a satisfied-sounding murmur, Peris nuzzled back into Crissa, pressing tighter against her. She was warm and soft to the touch and, despite her protestations, Crissa found the contact more than a little pleasant.

Her hand rested on Peris' belly, feeling the slow, even rhythm of the girl's breathing. As if guiding itself, it moved slowly downward until it came to the tight patch of curly hairs at the top of Peris' mound. Her fingertips toyed with those hairs, feeling them, growing accustomed to their touch. 

She lingered there for a long moment, just thinking on the difference in that hair and her own pubic hair, and those of men she had lain with. It was softer than the mens', but not quite so soft as her own.

Again, the fingers moved, this time downward more, exploring the shallow crease created by the bending of the thigh toward the body. The skin of Peris' thigh, as Crissa had seen, was smooth and flawless, like porcelain.

So far as Crissa had seen, Peris had no moles or warts, or even freckles. She was a young noblewoman, and seemed the part.

Again, Peris murmured something, but did not move this time. Crissa did not make out words in the murmurs, but felt happiness and satisfaction radiate from her.

The cleft drew her hand inward, toward the center. It seemed that she was being drawn into this, against her will, though surely, her will was behind it, whether or not she thought she thought she wanted to.

When she reached the center, Peris' folded legs stopped her explorations. Her legs were together and curled upward. Inwardly, Crissa sighed with relief at being thwarted in her semi-conscious wanderings.

She lay there for a long moment, just caressing the girl, then pressed her face into the hair, nuzzling it. It did feel good, Peris' hair was like feathers brushing her cheeks and smelled so good.

Her fingers were at the joint of the girl's thighs again, trying to move downward.

Peris must have felt the pressure, even in her sleep. She shifted slightly, straightening her upper leg downward. Her fingers were not longer stopped by the flesh of Peris' thighs.

While she thought about it, she kept the hand still, just stroking the soft pubic hairs. Why am I fighting what I wish to do? she asked herself.

She laid there again, thinking about that and felt her fingers grow damp with Peris' moisture. She had moved downward again, as she knew she would. Stop kidding yourself, Crissa, you control your hands, she chided.

Peris moaned in her sleep as Crissa's fingers moved over the nub of the girl's clitoris. The soft folds of Peris' labia were warm to the touch and moist, like she were already aroused.

Crissa found herself analyzing what her fingers returned in sensations. She noted the differences in their entrances, how Peris' had slightly longer lips, but a very small clitoris. The fingers moved over it again, rubbing gently over the button of flesh.

The slumbering noblewoman moaned again, shifting more and moving the legs apart. Apparently, in her sleep, she approved of the pleasurable contact.

The temptation to slide a finger inside the girl was strong in Crissa. She held back, though, remembering Peris' almost paranoid desire to keep her virginity intact. She explored the lips of the girls entrance, around that area, and the clitoris, noting each shift in Peris' breathing and the soft sounds she made as whatever dream she was having blended with the sensations Crissa was giving her.

Crissa almost screamed when Peris said, "I thought you didn't desire women," in a almost airless whisper into her ear. Her hand moved away from the area, back to the girl's belly.

When Crissa turned her eyes to regard Peris, the girl had a slightly petulant look on her face. "Had I known you would stop, I would have held my tongue," she whispered.

"Sorry," said Crissa, blushing something close to purple. When had she last blushed? She found it pleasant, somehow.

Peris kissed Crissa's cheek. "Don't apologize, it felt good and I sure didn't mind it being a woman doing it," she said. "Consider yourself to have free license."

A long moment passed as Crissa lay silent. "I was apologizing for perhaps leading you on," she said. "It was not my intent."

"What was your intent?" asked Peris.

"I don't know," replied Crissa, honestly.

"Would it help if I was still asleep?"

"Yes, perhaps," replied Crissa with a weak, embarrassed smile.

In Peris' mind, the awakening to find Crissa's fingers upon her personal places had served a twofold purpose. The first was that it rekindled hope in her goal of becoming a lover to Crissa. The second effect, and probably the more important, was that Crissa was revealed as a mere human to her eyes.

- - -

Cherle knelt before the templar. "I was busy with your bidding milord," he said, looking toward Shiran, the briefest flashes of hatred crossing his face.

The templar sat in his wooden seat, fully armored and reclining at his ease. Shiran stood beside the templar, on his right hand. She was wearing the black silken robe of an advisor. Cherle seethed at her, willing her to die. Now.

She leaned inward and whispered something to the templar, who widened his eyes. "All that important?" he asked. "While your clever attempt at assassination was failing, you were drinking rum and mead in the Silver Wolf Inn?"

Again, Cherle spared Shiran a glare. "She lies!" he exclaimed. "The little whore seeks to taint your view of me."

Templar Grendahl reached out a languid hand and cupped Shiran's small, firm rump, pulling her into his lap by the handle. "Speak not ill of your betters, Cherle," he said in a light voice. "She is now Mistress Shiran to you and I will not brook disrespect between my servants."

As he spoke these words, he was pushing up the hem of her long gown, revealing the girl's long, slender legs. She parted them for him and leaned against his cold metal skin. In the armor, his hands were clad in metal gauntlets that made his fingers both larger than normal, and cold. When he pressed one into her slit, she sighed out at the cold thrill that moved through her body.

"Apologies, Templar Grendahl and Mistress Shiran," said Cherle, bowing low and his face suffusing with the red of embarrassment and rage.

"How she comes to her position is of no concern to you, Cherle," said the Templar, pulling the finger forth and holding it before Shiran's mouth to lick clean of her fluids.

Her hands moved on his armor like she was caressing his very flesh. She would love him in this armor if he sought it, willingly.

The others of the circle were back further than Cherle, in the dimness at the back of the pavilion. He released the girl, pushing gently upward on her rump. "Do it, advisor," he said.

Shiran stood, allowing the robe to slip from her body to the floor, forming a black ring of shimmering cloth. She looked toward the other members of the circle and nodded.

The others immediately swarmed forward, grappling and holding the surprised Cherle. When he started to protest, they stuffed his mouth with a ball of wood and bound it with a rag.

He grunted around the gag, pulling and pushing with his arms and legs as they lifted him from the floor and held him at waist height. The girls moved forward and used silver daggers to slice the clothing from him, being none to careful with them, cutting his flesh in several places with the razor sharp blades.

He writhed in the grip of the other boys, but was stripped in seconds.

Shiran stepped up to where she was above his head. She grabbed his skull in both hands. "You should have told me the full ritual," she hissed. "You made me fail! Just so you could sate your base desires upon me that very night, as I recall."

She shoved his head away and began to circle the young man. Two other girls moved forward and gripped his head, lifting it so he could see down the length of his body.

The templar stood from the chair, walking toward the little scene. "It is so rewarding to see such a basic ritual on the occasion, to see that the true ways are followed. It almost reminds me of the days of my own youth.

Shiran smiled at him. "Give the word milord," she said.

"It is given, my dear Shiran, it is quite given," said the Templar.

She looked at the other members of the circle with his eager eyes and they began the summoning chant.

Cherle writhed in the clutches of the boys holding him, growling around the gag.

Shiran moved up between his legs, kneeling and focusing her mind in meditation, as the templar had shown her to this very day.

The young nobleman started jerking furiously as she lowered her mouth over his cock, which grew erect despite himself. Her head moved up and down, faster and faster and he wailed around the wooden ball, tears streaming down his cheeks.

The templar watched with detached interest as she suckled upon him, her mouth and hands working together to aid in his climax. He wailed and the sound of snapping came from his head, he was shattering his own teeth, clenching down on the ball of hardwood.

The sound of rending flesh and snapping bone began before he fully climaxed, and when he did the change only gained speed.

The flesh flowed like molten butter and the bones moved and snapped like twigs. The others of the circle stood back and watched the metamorphosis. The templar stood beside Shiran, stroking her hair. "Remember, my personal advisor," he murmured as the beast took form amid the ruined flesh and stood on powerful legs and looked at her with red, glowing eyes.

She knelt before the creature, beckoning it. It moved up to her, growling and leaving bloody footprints on the thick carpets of the floor. It bared its fangs at her and hissed.

"Stop," said Shiran, turning to face the beast, only inches from her head. "I am your summoner, you serve me," she said.

It growled and moved an inch closer to her, glowering into her blue eyes.

She reached out a hand, touching the chitinous armor that plated the beast. "I am your master, and your servant, if you do me service, I grant you use of my body," she said.

It growled more deeply, its massive phallus extending between its misshapen hind legs. She ran a hand under the beast and it tracked her motion with its glowing eyes as she stroked the swollen organ.

"Will you serve me?" she asked.

Very slowly, as if unused to gestures, it nodded. Her fingers wrapped around the organ and she squeezed it. "Then," she whispered quietly, "take me."

- - -

Crissa lurked around the corner of Master Marrat's home again. It was nearly two in the afternoon, and she had yet to see Duke Anasper return. The watchers were back in place, two at each station this time. She would have a harder time rendering them unconscious in pairs.

She had, once again, left Peris and Kennet secreted. Not that she wished to do this. She would prefer to keep them with her at all times.

For the second time in the same day, she nearly screamed when someone surprised her. A hand touched her shoulder and she spun about, bringing up a fist and readying her mind for an emotional attack on her assailant.

The duke stood there, blinking at her. "You're a bit tightly wound, I see," he said quietly, moving back behind the cover of a building's porch. He was wearing simple clothes and was nearly unrecognizable without his silver torc and robes of station.

Crissa hissed at him, quite forgetting he was a nobleman. "Damnit, don't sneak up on me, I nearly turned your brain into a pudding," she said.

"A novel experience, I'm sure," said Anasper, smiling blandly. "I would prefer it if you didn't though."

"Yes, milord," she said quietly. "What news of Wenn?"

"The case is pretty persuasive against him," said Anasper. "As you know from your own - investigations. Your witness is the most important element, though, as no one can link him directly to either faction that was involved."

She nodded and looked up at him. "We were attacked last night, a witch and a demon, we think," she said.

Anasper's eyes widened. "That was your flat?" he asked. "I got the report from the watch, and they said it was a cult or something. They said the culprits disappeared from right under their noses."

Crissa blushed a little at that. "Well, yeah," she agreed. "That would have been us, then. And I don't think we qualify as a cult."

Anasper allowed himself a chuckle. "Glad to hear that, I worried a bit that another group turning up in Norboro would be a bit much."

"When is the trial to start?" asked Crissa.

"In three days," said the duke, looking around the corner. "I should get moving, and so should you, Crissa."

She nodded and moved back as he walked around the corner, toward Marrat's house. Surreptitiously, two large men moved from nearby areas to follow him at a discreet distance. Their clothes were scraggly and unkempt, but their hair was shorn cleanly and they were fresh shaven. They also moved with the easy grace of a skilled warrior. Anasper's bodyguards.

Crissa slipped back into the alleys and made for the hidden cellar, after she visited the marketplace. She had a few coins, and they needed some comforts.

- - -

Grendahl stroked Shiran's hair as she lay curled on the cot. "You did very well, advisor," he said in a soft voice. She shook all over, her body convulsing from time to time. "Few could withstand such use without breaking, and you are not broken."

A weak smile formed on her face and she winced. One of the other members of the circle was smearing a foul-smelling poultice upon the lacerations on her back. They were deep and long, and had bled plentifully. That pain, however, was the least of her agonies. "Master," she said quietly, in almost a whisper. "The visions he gave me as he took me."

"Just what he wishes to do, if he had you in his den," said Grendahl, reassuring her. "Just visions."

She looked up at him. "Such horrid visions from an angel?" she asked.

"Question them not, for angels are beings beyond our understanding," said Grendahl gently, but firmly. "Suffice it to know you have him in your control."

The beast sat quietly in the corner, glaring at everyone but watching Shiran most of all as they ministered to her. Every time she flinched, he twitched as if to spring. Her will held him at bay, though, and he followed each motion she made.

She smiled up at the templar. "I hope my service is worthy, milord," she murmured as the herbs had their desired effect of letting her rest a bit.




Feldare Tales: High Society Ch. 08



"Great service, Shiran, you may be worthy to become a templar yourself one day," he said.

Her eyes fluttered open and she gave him another soft, lovely smile. "You honor me, milord," she said. "I seek only to serve you, and the One through you."

"You served him well this day, dear," he said, looking with a smile at the beast in the corner and the adoration of the girl the creature exuded. Her sacrifice had controlled this one completely. Perhaps she would survive the completion of the creature's purpose and Shiran would come with him to become his own advisor in truth, he thought. She certainly had no qualms about doing what was necessary to do a job. She was a loyal servant, if not a skilled or wise one.

There was something to be said for blind loyalty.

- - -

"All right, you two get dressed," said Crissa as she opened the door and hefted the sack of food she had brought with her from the market.

From the corner, a light stone perched on his shoulder, Kennet looked up, smiling.

Peris snuffled from the blankets near the door, poking her brown-haired head out and murmuring something about not being nearly that lucky.

They gathered around a crate that only had three sides and she handed out bread and cheese. Lastly, though, she produced a pair of bottles. One was rum the other a stout Ghantian wine. "Tonight we celebrate our self-imposed imprisonment," she announced, "and Wenn's acquittal."