Storiesonline.net ------- Foresighted by Mack the Knife Copyright© 2005 by Mack the Knife ------- Description: Crissa, apprentice sorceress, has premonitions that have always been accurate. Seeing one's own death is never pleasant. Codes: MF fant 1st teen cons mag het ------- "Look, this is a terrible mistake, mister," said Crissa, cringing back from the knife thrust out at her chest from the small man. "You really don't want to do this." The man, both short and skinny leered at her. "Only mistake was coming down this alley, missy," he said, taking another step toward her, "dressing like an elven whore in that short skirt, there." He chuckled without humor. "Well, now, if you're gonna dress like one, you're gonna get fucked like one." Crissa shook her head, her straw-colored hair shifting over her shoulders. "I tried to reason with you, mister," she said, her voice full of pity and resignation. There was a brief moment of worry in the small man's alcohol-addled mind, then there was no worry, nor anger, nor fear. Truthfully, there was little there that could be called an emotion at all, much less a coherent thought. Her sapphire eyes bored into his mind, and she laid it bare. His will was ripped from him, then his thoughts. "I regret this, I want you to know," she said into his mind. Those were the last words he ever understood. The tall blond walked from the alley, her eyes downcast and a tear on each cheek. Behind her, a man lay folded upon the ground, gibbering and drooling onto the cobbles of the alley. He peered at her with one bleary eye and then bit the tip of his tongue off. It was simplicity itself to turn a man's mind into a paste within his skull. More difficult, by far, was more subtle manipulation. Two years ago, her powers had grown to the point that she had to be careful where she directed her anger, lest it turn men into blithering idiots in a blink of an eye. She walked into Marrat's home, and hers these last five years. "Master Marrat?" she called out from the kitchen. She was answered by a muffled reply somewhere toward the library and she moved that direction. The library made her uneasy. All those words of magical power, scribbled onto parchment and sewn into bindings, then covered in leather and wood sheets, forming books. Books with bright spells, and books with dark spells. 'It is all in the usage', Marrat always said. She was not sure she believed that, even though she had seen her lover, Wenn, use magic spells that were dark in nature toward good ends, so perhaps it was true. Marrat peered from around a huge tome on a pedestal. "What is it, my dear?" he asked when he saw the expression on her pretty face. She regarded his shockingly white hair and wrinkled face, and saw the worry etching those wrinkles deeper. "I had to destroy a man's mind tonight," she said in a voice little more than a whisper. Marrat nodded. "Was it justified?" he asked. "Of course, master," replied Crissa. "I would never do something like that in a fit of whimsey." Marrat moved from behind the big book and walked up to her, peering up slightly at her. She was very tall, as tall as a man of goodly height, and not much lighter in build. "I never thought for a second you would," he said, smiling in his gentle way. "I was meaning more along the lines was it truly deserved, rather than, perhaps, an overreaction." She nodded. "He was going to rape me," said Crissa. "He said as much." The old wizard nodded. "I thought it might be something like that," he murmured. Crissa looked at him with concerned eyes. "He said it was my manner of dress that made him loose his mind with lust," she said. Marrat laughed. "Sadistic bastards are ever seeking for an excuse to hurt people," he said. "His unnatural desire to hurt you was no doing of yours, sweet Crissa. Never think it was." "I'll try," she said. "Good," said Marrat. "Now where is that worthless man you call a boyfriend?" He peered around her as if Wenn would be hiding there. She smiled and then said, "He is still down in Morrovale. Or have you forgotten, you old dodderer?" she asked. He grinned. "So I did," he said. "That's why I keep you about, you know? Well, that and your beauty." She blushed slightly. It still amazed her that old Marrat could elicit that response from her, but she respected him, and his casual flirtations were a way he had of showing her he cared for her, even if not in quite the way he made them sound. "If you were but twenty years younger," she said, shaking her head. "HAH!" barked Marrat. "Even twenty years younger, I'd be too old for you, young woman. Which reminds me; weren't you supposed to be out - enjoying yourself - for a day or two?" Crissa nodded. "I was, but I forgot my cloak, and it will grow very chill this night, and I will not be in town come midnight," she said. He clucked and shook his old head, sending his long, wispy hair flying in a halo. "I'll never get used to how self-assured you are at predictions," said Marrat. "But I am sure it will grow chill and you will be out of town tonight." She nodded. "It's rather putting off," she said, "I'll admit. But luckily, for my sanity, it rarely works when other people are involved, and I never know who is to be involved." "I think the One spares your mind by leaving out details like that, sweetie," said the old man, moving back toward his great tome. "Hadn't you best grab that cloak and be off to enjoy yourself?" She nodded. "Yes, master," she said and scurried out of the creepy room. Crissa walked down the steps from the kitchen entrance to the large home that was Marrat's house. "What are you predicting for me?" she asked herself, turning onto the cobbled street and heading in a generally random direction, but mostly toward the Two-Penny Nail. The Nail had become her home away from home, and was now her regular haunt. As she entered, several voices rose in greeting and she smiled and waved toward them. With a small twinge of guilt, or maybe regret, she realized she had slept with most of them, at least once. The patrons of the Nail knew not to pressure her for her favors, they simply accepted them gladly if she offered. It had become something of a mark of acceptance to the clientele to have been bedded by Crissa. Her prediction had been very vivid, though, and she knew it to be one of the 'truer' ones. She would be out of town this night and it would be very cool. She would also be with a man. What she had not told Marrat was that she would not be coming back, not tonight, not ever. Perhaps the old man had known that. Her vision had been clear on that point. She saw herself go into the old farmhouse, but she did not emerge, the man she went there to meet didn't leave, but his accomplice did, a woman with shocking white hair, wearing Crissa's cloak. She would die in that old farmstead. Why not go back to Marrat's and hide? she asked herself. Because it would not help, came her own reply. If she went there, she would simply be starting her vision from there rather than somewhere else. Being on alert wouldn't even help, for she would simply cause it to happen, anyway, it always did. Admittedly, most of her visions were not quite so dark, but they were always correct. She finished off a tall ale and looked to see if she could see the man who had led her to the house. He had long brown hair and a beard. She looked among the men in the bar, several had brown hair and beards, but they were not him, she knew, for he also had eyes of a gray so light, they were almost white. A voice came from behind her. "Excuse me, miss?" the masculine voice asked. "May I introduce myself?" "That's a new one," she said turning, then stopped speaking. Her eyes went a bit wide, it was the man. He was handsome, and strong-looking. He was more than handsome, he was perfect. "Of course, you can," she said, her voice fluttering uncontrollably. He leaned a bit down, with a hint of an elven head bow, and took her hand, then kissed it. She felt her face flush with blood and knew she must be bright red right now. As he stood again, he said. "I am Relkan, and I am pleased that you allow me to say who I am to you, such a beauty you are." She felt her heart leap in her chest at his voice. It was rich and deep, and sounded quite cultured. "I am Crissa," she said. "I know you, Crissa," replied Relkan. "I have watched you from afar for a long while." His smile broadened, and she felt her breathing quicken a bit. She had been worried about something, but it seemed pointless now. Idle worry about things of little import, she was sure. "You have?" she asked. "They why have you not spoken to me?" "I'm a bit shy," he offered. She nodded. "I used to be that way, but I got over it." she joked. He laughed at that, a deep, bass rumble of a laugh, it was very nice to hear and she wished to hear more of it. "This may sound forward," she said, "but would you like to go for a walk?" He nodded. "I would like that very much," replied Relkan. "As a matter of fact, I can think of little I would like more." She blushed again, knowing he meant far more than her simple company on a walk. He radiated sensuality and she was not immune to it. Already she would let him take her, on the bar if he asked it. He offered her his arm and they walked out of the bar. She vaguely noted the looks of disappointment on the other patrons, especially those that she had slept with before. She felt light headed, so giddy was she at this handsome man's attention. He grinned as they talked of the beauty of the night, and the chill of the night air. It seemed that no time had passed. But it obviously had. She shook her head, and looked about. She was laying upon a large bed, and she was tied down, slim ropes held her hands and feet securely. The room was run-down and filthy, and the windows were broken in, then hastily covered with old bits of blanket. A smell of old mustiness came to her, and the smell of the earth. She was on a farm, she was in the farmstead. A feeling of deep resignation came over her and she sighed, dropping her head back onto the bare straw-filled mattress. "I see you are awake, Crissa Disgalen," she heard Relkan say. She peered into the dark corner of the room and he walked out into the moonlight, poking through a couple of intact window panes. "I know what is about to happen," she said, "but I would ask why it must happen." He nodded. "I had heard you were foresighted," he said. "I would have thought you might try to avoid this." She shrugged, her movement shortened by the restraints. "Why?" she asked. "I'm good, and I knew it was a good foretelling." He chuckled quietly. "I'm impressed, you're very accepting of your fate." She looked down at him and his eyes seemed to glow. "Are you going to tell me what I am going to die for or not?" It was his turn to shrug. "Sure, why not?" he asked. "I am here to rape your mind and body." He smiled at her look of worry. "You see, you and I are much alike, beautiful Crissa." Relkan sat upon the foot of the bed, running a finger down the inside of her thigh. "So much so, that I need what you have, if I am to grow in power." "And my body?" she asked. "Oh, that," he said almost negligently, "I'm just a sadist. But I am not heartless. I will let you have one last tumble with another lad of power whom I will be stripping the energies from this night, as well." He pulled out a dagger and slit one of the ropes around one wrist. "Untie yourself and come out into the common room." She fumbled with numb fingers at the ropes until she was untied, then walked on pins and needles out into the room, her feet still numb from the poor circulation. Relkan was sitting in a creaky old rocking chair. He was holding a crossbow. "Just go on through there and down the stairs. Enjoy yourself a while. Let me know when you are done." She wanted every moment of life she could get, but the idea of trying to escape didn't even cross her mind. "I'm afraid that young Robar is no match for your powers, dear, but I assure you, he will be happy to see you," said Relkan. "You see, he doesn't wish to die a virgin." She cursed under her breath as she opened the door and peered down the long stairs to the root cellar, a single candle burned down in the darkness. Descending the rickety stairs cautiously, she walked to the bottom, then turned to face into the cellar proper. Lying upon a cot was a young man, several years her junior, no more than sixteen. She did not recognize him, but had not expected to. He turned on the cot and his eyes met hers, then widened. "You're not Relkan." he said. Crissa smiled weakly. "No, I'm not, my name is Crissa," she said, "I suppose we're in the same small cart on a steep road together." He smiled at that. "He says he will 'drink' my power this night," said Robar. Crissa walked further into the little room. Robar was a tall, skinny lad, and not particularly handsome in the face, he had a long, hooked nose and his eyes were too small and close together. He also had several bruises on his face and bare arms. "Did Relkan beat you?" she asked. Robar nodded. "When I tried to escape," he explained. A flash of shame overcame Crissa, she had not even tried to escape, she was like a lamb, walking into the slaughterhouse, following the goat stupidly. She sat on a small, broken crate near the bed and Robar sat up. "He sent me to be your first, so that you do not die a virgin," said Crissa. Robar smiled at her. "I don't want you to be my first, lest you desire it." She grinned at him, and ran her fingers through her honey-colored hair. "I'll admit, you are not the sort I usually find myself longing for," she said, "but if my options are to die having been recently loved, or dying without, I will choose to have been." "That is one way to look at it," said Robar. She looked at him earnestly. "That is, of course, assuming you wish to have me," said Crissa. He laughed heartily at those words. His head tilting back and he barked out a long train of sharp laughs, then slowly descended to a chuckle, wiping tears from his eyes. "Wish to have you?" he asked. "Normally, a woman of your beauty would not even look twice at me, Crissa. A night with you would probably be worth dying over." A bright blush suffused her face. "That's sweet, but doesn't answer my question." He nodded. "Yes, if you are desirous of being loved. I would be miscreant to not do so." "What is the nature of your gift?" she asked. He looked at her oddly for a moment. "I am able to give people energies; mental, physical, magical, whatever," he said. "It is a power of limited usefulness in this particular situation." Crissa nodded. "I probed his mind out there, and he is defended from my attacks," she said. "He is mighty." "I know," agreed Robar. "You two have one hour," shouted Relkan from the head of the stairs, then slammed the door. She looked toward the stairs, then back at Robar. "Are you ready?" she asked. The youth nodded and stood up from the bed. Crissa stood as well and put held out her hands. He took them and she pulled him to her and embraced him. "Love me," she said in a breathy whisper into his ear. She was not truly in the mood for love play, but she soon would be. The ability to inspire lust in a person was the first she had developed and was still her most well-developed ability. She peered into the youth's eyes and focused that power. "Love me," she repeated and released her mind's energies. The lad's eyes grew wide, then softened immensely. Suddenly, in his entire world, the only thing that existed was Crissa. The only thing that could exist was Crissa. These days she could easily control the excess energies and not be subject to her own powers, but this time she chose to not do so. What was not necessary to convince the youth that she was his one true love, even if for but a while rebounded to her and locked her heart to him. Robar ceased being a skinny boy but was a handsome, lovable young man, and she loved him. They fell into each other's arms, and began kissing. Robar was not very experienced in this, but was more than making up for it in enthusiasm. Crissa smiled at the rafters overhead as she tossed back her head and he had his way with her neck and the part of her chest not covered by her half-top. She moaned as his kisses and tongue stimulated her throat. Her fingers moving on their own, she had untied the top and now it fell open, immediately, his mouth and tongue moved over one, working their way quickly to her already hard nipple. A long, shuddering sigh came from her as he sucked the nipple into his mouth hard. Her long, strong fingers twined into his short blond hair and coaxed him to the other breast. Her shoes had been removed before, and now she untied her skirt, letting it fall to the floor. Robar looked up at her from her breast and she nodded. He knelt before her and she moved her legs apart. His face moved between her muscular thighs and she felt his tongue move over her clitoris. Gasping, she pulled his hair and therefore his mouth tighter against her cunt. His tongue darted into her a short way, then back out and over her clit again. He was not nearly as skilled as she would like, but he was certainly trying hard. She gave in and helped him a bit, and moved one hand down to her crotch and began to rub her fingers over her clit. Soon she climaxed, her knees nearly buckling from beneath her as she did so. His tongue didn't slow, and he continued lapping at her. "Enough, Robar," she sighed, pulling him back by his hair, then smiling down at him. "We haven't long." He stood up, caressing her long, sleek body as he moved. His hands moved over her breasts and she sighed at him again, then pushed him back onto the cot. He laid back and she moved over him, dragging her golden hair over his thighs as she moved up his legs. His manhood was already standing up from his groin and she eyed it as she neared him. He was average, but still it seemed the only cock in the world she wanted. Her mouth enfolded the length of it, taking him most of the way down in one smooth motion. He groaned as she moved down the shaft with her soft, full lips. One of Robar's hands moved to the back of Crissa's head and she felt it sliding through her hair. "That's amazing," he said. "I fear I won't last long, though." She pulled his cock from her mouth with a slurping sound. "Then don't hold back, we will try a second time. You will last longer if you have spent once already." Her lips moved about his cock again, but he pulled her upward. "No," he said. "There will be no second time." The look of determination on his features warned her not to argue, but to do what he wished, not that she was bothered by it. Eagerly, she moved about. "How do you wish to take me?" she asked, her eyes smouldering with anticipation. "On your back, I would face my first and last lover," said Robar. Crissa laid down and he was moving atop her even as she did so. Their lips joined even before she could lie down. As she went prone, he was already pushing into her, opening her smoothly, as if they were old lovers. He groaned as their pelvises met and he felt the warmth of her insides surrounding his organ. She smiled up at him encouragingly, and stroked his shoulders. "Well done, lover," she said. The look in his beautiful eyes alarmed her and she thought they were far too hard for love play. "Robar, is something wrong?" "Oh, just we're going to die soon," he said, flippantly. She smiled at the man she, for now, loved. "I know that, but there is something else there." Robar leaned into her, never slowing his thrusts. "I don't wish you to die," he said. Crissa felt his thighs tense and knew he was about to spend. "Come into me, lover, and take comfort in my arms for a while," she said. His back arched and his eyes locked onto hers. "No comfort for me, Crissa, beloved," he said, and she felt him climax deep inside her. At that same moment, she felt something else, something like a wind rushing past her, like falling. She looked up and the man over her stopped moving. He rolled off of her, then lay beside her. His breath sounded forced and she turned to look at him. "Robar?" she asked. Crissa sat up and looked down into his open eyes. They were blank, he was no longer beautiful to her eyes. She no longer loved him, he was dead. She looked at him a long moment, unable to truly fathom what she was seeing. "Robar?" she asked, shaking him. "By the one." She made the sign of the One over her heart and then reached out and closed his eyes reverentially as tears rolled down her cheeks. "What have you done?" The door at the top of the stairs opened and Relkan's voice descended them. "Come back up now, Crissa, I hear you are finished, though I expected more of condemned folk," he said, with an edge of humor in his voice. "Never fear, I will see to you longer." She did not bother dressing, she simply moved to the stairs and then up them slowly. "I am coming, Relkan, but I am relieved to have had my last real man already." He chuckled as she walked past him into the dusty farmhouse. "Well, that was something, at least, if not defiance, at least attitude," he said. She turned. "So glad to enterta... " she started to say when his fist smashed into her cheek, sending her sprawling across the floor. She rolled painfully over, her cheek hurting mightily, and she felt her teeth not line up correctly, he had dislocated her jaw. "You son of a bitch," she grated, her voice slurred by pain and disorientation from her spinning mind. "So there is fire in there," he said. "Good, for I need some fire in my lover." She spit blood onto the floor. "You have no lover, you twisted freak," she said. "You have victims. But where is your accomplice? The white-haired woman?" Relkan laughed, a haunting, hollow sound. "Who? I have no accomplice. As for lovers, lover, victim, it's all the same." He was walking toward her as she unconsciously backed away. Suddenly, the wall was at her back and she was out of room. "Now, it is unfortunate that I cannot rape your mind and body at the same time, so I will have to satisfy myself with your body first, then your mind." "Bend over and grab that chair, I will take you now," he said. She felt her arms and back move of their own accord, positioning herself gripping the chair's arm and holding her legs taut. Her feet moved apart and presented her entrance to him. She was sobbing freely now, terrified. He dropped his pants and positioned his manhood against her slit. Then there was a voice, Robar's voice. "NOW, STRIKE NOW!" he screamed into her mind. She spun about, her fist backed by muscles that had seen hard labor her entire lift on the farm, then at Marrat's home, struck him in the neck. He coughed and stumbled back. "AGAIN!" She felt Relkan's mind reach out and grab her limbs, stopping them dead. There was a sudden surge inside her, a white energy building up from her spine and out. Her arm moved, a spring cut loose of its mooring at one in and it hit his face, smashing his lip and splitting the soft skin. "What?" said Relkan through his battered lips, stumbling back again. "How?" The energy moved through her arms and she brought the other fist around, hitting the man in the chest. Inside him, something snapped with a sound like a tree branch. She could feel Relkan's efforts to stop her. His mind skittered from her body, like she were oiled. He was still stronger than she, though, and he grabbed one wrist, then the other. He smiled through his split lip, blood running over his chin. "Now that's spirit!" he screamed as she kicked at him ineffectually. "You're going to be fun to rip apart!" The white energy reached her head, and surrounded her skull in a glowing nimbus. With a sudden motion, her head launched forward with her entire body propelling it. It smashed into his with the force of a sledgehammer. His skull cracked with an audible sound that reminded Crissa of a wooden plank being split. "Now, take him!" As Relkan's battered body began to slump to the floor, she reached out with her mind and grabbed his. He surrendered as he fell, his powers coming free of his brain easily as the blood stopped flowing. The powers desired to go on, whether in him or another host. They came to Crissa willingly and curled themselves about her mind warmly. Then she pitched forward. "You bitch!" a voice in her mind screamed at her, and a splitting pain shot through her skull, and blood poured from her nose and eyes. "I'll just have your body then, it'll not be the first I've stolen!" Robar's voice came from within, right beside the other man's "No, Relkan, you'll not," he said. She felt them in her mind, fighting. Relkan was more powerful, by far, but Robar did not need to beat him, only move him a little way. They struggled for a moment, the pain making her feel as if her skull would rend itself, then there was a tearing feeling. Robar had gotten a grip upon Relkan, and then said, "Time to go, you bastard. The One will greet us at the gates of paradise. Though one of us may not be admitted." Relkan screamed incoherently as she felt them leave her, the white glow flowing from about her and upward. It shot through the ceiling of the old farmstead and she saw it no more. She collapsed onto the floor for a moment, panting and sopping the blood from her face. Her vision was brightening, and she realized she was peering through a layer of blood, though it was now clearing with the tears she was shedding liberally. Her own voice in weeping startled her. She looked down at the corpse of Relkan, and picked up a small log from next to the fireplace. With a cold collectedness that would have startled her not an hour ago, she patiently and slowly reduced the skull of Relkan to a bloody pulp upon the floor. Crissa then stood and looked about the farmstead until she found her cloak, lying in a corner of the bedroom she had been bound in. As she slipped it about her she looked into one of the panes of glass that remained. A woman peered back at her with stark white hair. She jumped back a bit, and the woman did the same. Her breathing heavy again, she looked toward the window and realized it was her she beheld in the glass, a slightly muddled reflection. She moved toward it, and lifted her hair from her shoulder, and brought it before her eyes. It was white now, like snow, or a puffy cloud. Sighing, she closed the cloak close about her and walked from the farmhouse, aiming herself at the dim glow that would be the reflection in the sky of Norboro. ------- Epilogue Wenn walked up the stairs, helping old Marrat. They both had shovels. "We buried him as best we could," said Wenn, kissing Crissa's brow, and stroking his thumbs under her eyes, wiping away the tears there. "He is with the One, you know that." "I know," said Crissa, "and he knew." They all walked out of the farm house and about fifty feet down the lane that lead to the Morrovale Road. Turning they all stood for a moment, then Wenn spoke words of incantation and a red, pulsing orb formed in his hand. Crissa smiled at him as he raised one eyebrow at her. "Bigger," she said. "He deserves one hell of a send off." Wenn poured more power into the fireball, until he could no longer contain it, and then loosed the bolt of pure elemental fire at the house. It struck and slammed a hole through the window. Inside it struck something solid and detonated. The house blew itself apart in a hail of stones and burning splinters. Clay tiles rained down about them as Marrat's shield held the shrapnel cast off from the exploding house away from them in a sphere. The young wizard smiled at her. "Sufficient?" he asked as they looked at the burning foundation and collapsing chimney. She smiled at him. "Almost as good as the one I gave him," she said, then turned toward Norboro. ------- The End ------- Posted: 2005-08-29 ------- http://storiesonline.net/ -------