A Wizard's War

Lord Crusnik’s cold arm draped over his shoulder was a calming presence as they rolled through the streets in the carriage. Simon held a blood-soaked rag to his injured face as they moved trying to recall just how it had happened. Had Connor really come and used him and then attacked him?

“Your power is tempting,” Crusnik spoke gently as if he’d read Simon’s mind, “You can’t blame yourself.”

“He was a friend,” Simon sobbed.

“I’m sorry, my pet.”

The carriage finally rumbled to a stop and Julian led Simon out. They had arrived at a narrow, tall stone building wedged between two smaller ones. A special symbol representing the healing rays of Esther was etched on a swinging wooden sign above the entrance.

“Oh dear,” a gentle voice spoke from the doorway, “What has happened, Lord Crusnik?”

“My companion has been attacked and requires assistance.”

Simon was led inside and placed on a flat table, the new stranger gently pried the bloody rag from Simon’s fingers and looked down at his wounds. The gnome had to climb up on a small step stool to look down upon Simon and on the end of his nose he wore magnifying spectacles. Bristly white hair stood out from the gnome’s head and beard.

“Oh my, some sort of creature attack.”

“Yes,” Julian answered, “A werewolf in my brothel.”

“In the city?” the gnome shook his head, “How despicable!”

The gnome touched the edges of the jagged marks and made Simon hiss with pain. Simon could feel blood trickling down his neck from the wounds. The gnome drew several symbols in the air and there was a faint sweet humming sound.

“Don’t you worry, my young friend, we’ll heal this as best we can,” the gnome reassured.

“Thank you, Rosnan,” Juilian spoke appreciatively, “Your work is always impeccable.”

“We do our best.”

The gnome, Rosnan, had several human assistants that arrived later. Simon did not know what they were doing, but he heard them chatting in another language. Rosnan gave orders and they all obeyed without hesitation. Rosnan applied a salve to Simon’s face which caused the pain to ease and then he slowly stitched his wounds closed. They drew more symbols upon his face with a strong-smelling unguent and Rosnan muttered incantations under his breath. There was the faint stench of searing flesh as light glowed from around Rosnan’s fingers. When all this was complete, Rosnan snipped away and pulled the stitches free.

“There should be minimal scarring or damage to the face,” Rosnan spoke proudly as he admired his own work.

“As wonderful as always,” Julian peered over Simon and touched his cheek with a cold finger.

“I will provide a soothing balm,” Rosnan continued, “It will soften the skin and promote the healing process. Best applied at least three times per day.”

“Thank you.”

“And might I suggest not allowing any more werewolves into your establishment.”

Simon heard the men chuckle, but he found nothing funny about Connor’s arrival in the brothel or his violent exit. There was an exchange of coin and then Lord Crusnik took Simon back to their carriage.

“I was going to wait,” Julian began, “But after tonight’s events, I think we should be going.”

“Go? Where?” Simon croaked.

“North, toward my home in Votu Vomir. I think the council will be just fine without me for a while. Tedious proceedings anyway. Your training is the most important thing to me now.”

Simon felt Julian take his hands in a cold dead grasp. Their eyes locked, Simon’s bright green and Julian’s flat and clouded. Julian whispered something and Simon felt safe and comforted.

“So beautiful,” Juilan stroked Simon’s cheek, “My treasure, my pet. I can’t let anything happen to you.”

Simon lay back and slept for a while. The gentle rocking of the moving carriage lulling him into dreamless rest. Some time later he woke and saw Julian reading by dim lantern light.

“Is that my book?” Simon asked.

“It’s been a while since I saw someone with the ravings of Morgana,” Julian smiled as he glanced at Simon over the book.

“Mostly ravings,” Simon considered and then showed Julian the passage that had been haunting him since he first read it.

“The fate of all magic will be decided,” Julian read the last line aloud and a frown creased his brow.

“Any thoughts?” Simon asked.

“I suppose I’d have you start from the beginning,” Julian contemplated, “We have time while we journey north. Would you recount your journey?”

“Yes, my lord…” And Simon began his tale. Much time passed as the carriage bumped along the winding road through the mountain foothills. The forest around them was thinning and becoming more coniferous.

When at last Simon finished, Julian set aside his water skin and brought a chest from under his seat.

“I think we need something stronger.”

Inside the chest, packed with straw, was a clay amphora which Julian hoisted out, and from it poured two cups of burgundy liquid.

“What is it?” Simon asked.

“The elves that make it call it wine,” Julian handed Simon a cup and then drank of his own.

Simon took a sip and found the alcohol to be strong, but it was also sweet. It was sweeter even than the mead he had before. Simon was impressed and drank some more.

“It’s good,” Julian nodded as he drank again also.

“Delicious,” Simon agreed, “Thank you, my lord.”

“Your journey is nearly impossible,” Julian finally addressed the long story, “Few mortals have been to the realm of Meridiah and returned. And yet, I believe everything you told me. I am regretful about your werewolf friend… I suspected when I arrived that you knew him.”

“Remembering Connor was the most difficult part,” Simon fought back tears, “I’m not sure why I said the things I did to him.”

“I think deep down, you knew you couldn’t let anything hold you back,” Julian held one of Simon’s hands tenderly, “You knew your journey wasn’t over and it didn’t include Connor.”

“I… don’t know?” Simon didn’t agree, but he didn’t want to argue with his new mentor either, “I suppose, you could be right.”

“Free of distractions,” Julian smiled and squeezed Simon’s hand, “Our real work can begin.”

As they traveled, Simon reviewed the symbols and basic runic magic he had learned from Auren Qualls. Breakwhite’s catechisms had saved Simon before when he created fire and turned a sphinx into a giant fish. The last act still seemed like a dream.

“Runes are one form of magic,” Julian pointed out, “There are also incantations, potions, and transfigurations. Most transfigurations require a catalyst or conduit to work, since you cannot simply create something from nothing. Even necromancy is a form of transfiguration.”

“How so?” Simon asked.

“You can animate a corpse or manipulate a soul, but only if one already exists. The most common conduit in necromancy is through blood. I theorize with your unique talents that you could harness your seed and that of others to use as a conduit. Which you already do on some subconscious level.”

“My own seed changes others already,” Simon reminded Julian.

“It does,” Julian nodded, “But what if you could control it? I can help you harness and enhance that power. If you’d let me.”

“My seed would become more potent?” Simon worried as he considered the overdose that Rom Hammerfist had experienced.

“Only when you are able to control it,” Julian comforted almost seeming to understand Simon’s concern.

Simon still seemed to hesitate, and Julian drew closer and stared directly into Simon’s eyes.

“Don’t you trust me, my pet?”

“Yes, my lord,” Simon answered weakly, feeling far away from his own body.

“I’ve sampled your seed myself,” Julian whispered, “Such a divine nectar, like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. My body feels younger and stronger than it has in years.”

“Can I see it, my lord?” Simon asked breathlessly.

“Of course, my pet,” Julian wasted no time removing his robes and exposing his pale, muscular form. All the muscles were more defined and less atrophied than when they first met. And his cock was immensely thick, already growing harder.

“You are perfection, my lord,” Simon whispered.

“I will be,” Julian smiled fiendishly, “Let us try something.”

Julian bit into his own finger and let a few drops fall into the last bit of Simon’s wine. He then casually tipped the glass toward Simon’s lips.

“What will it do?” Simon asked.

“Allow me to be a conduit through you,” Julian smiled, “my power, your power, who’s to say where it begins and ends.”

Simon looked down at the crimson liquid uncertainly.

“Drink it,” Julian commanded, “And I’ll fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before.”

Simon whimpered at the thought of being used by Julian again. He knew he couldn’t defy his new master and he drank the last of his wine. Julian tore Simon’s clothes off like an animal and then filled his hole with his thick cock. Simon’s body was slamming so hard into the wall of the carriage that the driver had stopped to check the back. After seeing what was happening, he cleared his throat awkwardly and went back to driving.

Simon lost his mind and didn’t even flinch when Julian bit into his neck and began to drink. Simon saw the bloodied fangs and red liquid dripping down Julian’s chin and simply begged to be used harder and faster. Julian’s cock flared with renewed power and plunged in deeper and harder as requested. Simon’s green eyes glazed over, becoming slightly less bright as he watched his master fuck. Julian spit saliva mixed with blood down on his shaft to lube Simon’s abused ass, flipped the boy over and continued to pound him long into the night.

_______________________

The wolf had run all night, until it was panting and could not go any further due to the ache in their side. The creature drew close to a stream and drank deeply before collapsing in a huff upon the ground. It absently licked at its paws. There were remnants of wet fur streaking from its tired eyes.

The wolf’s ears suddenly swiveled toward a nearby row of trees, and they leapt to their feet just in time for a great spear to narrowly miss their body.

“Damn! We’ll never eat at this rate!” A gruff voice grumbled from that direction.

The wolf was in a very fowl mood and immediately wanted to taste blood. It bounded toward the trees in search of the voices.

“Shit!” Rummert raised a gauntlet just in time to catch the wolf’s fangs. If he’d been a split second slower his throat may have been ripped open.

“Crazy beast!” Fogrot roared and punched the wolf hard in the head, trying to make it release his companion.

The wolf saw stars, but it reacted swiftly as Fogrot drew back to strike again. Fogrot was stunned as a human-like, clawed hand deflected his arm in the air. The claws dug into his flesh and drew his dark blood. The wolf was growing, muscles and sinew stretching as its body shifted. There was a sickening crack of bones that made Fogrot uneasy.

“It’s cursed!” Rummert cried as he finally managed to free his wrist from the creature’s unhinging jaws. The beast was now as big as the orcs and roared up in the early morning sky. Every chirping bird and living creature in the forest grew still and silent.

“Run!” Fogrot was yanking at his companion, urging him to follow.

The orcs raced deeper into the forest but could hear the snapping of small trees as the beast pursued them. Irregular panting and malicious growls emanated from the creature in its blind blood lust. Rummert stayed close to Fogrot’s heels, but in his throat he felt the rising panic as the creature was closing the distance.

Fogrot hazard a glance back and could see the wolf about to leap, ready to pounce upon its prey.

“Duck!” Fogrot shouted and hit the ground. Fogrot could feel the impact in his own joints as Rummert was torn from his feet and tackled to the ground by the cursed beast. The monster pinned the orc to the ground and began to slash at him viciously with its sharp claws. Fogrot feared his friend would be gone in a matter of seconds, but the beast suddenly paused with its claw raised in mid-strike.

“That… scent,” the beast growled fearsomely. It pushed its nose down and began to sniff at Rummert’s prone body.

Fogrot saw his opportunity and moved to strike the beast’s neck with his great axe. Deftly, the werewolf backhanded Fogrot into a tree and then began sniffing at him as well. The wolf’s eyes softened and his hand began to shake. His great mouth opened, and a human hand pushed its way out from inside the beast. The wolf turned inside out in a horrifying display of mangled flesh and splitting bones until a hairy, bloody, naked man was standing before Fogrot.

“You know Simon?” Connor demanded.

Fogrot turned to the side and puked.

_______________________

When Simon floated back to consciousness, he realized how cold his nose and ears were. A blanket had been wrapped around his body in the carriage, but his breath plumed out in billows of steam. He glanced out of the carriage to see a vast snow-covered expanse.

“So white it’s almost hard to look at,” Julian spoke making Simon jump.

“It’s beautiful in a way,” Simon considered.

“I don’t get cold,” Julian spoke with concern, “I hope I kept you comfortable.”

“I’m cold, but the blankets are helping a lot.”

“That is good to hear.”

“Maybe something for my ears,” Simon flipped the blanket up and covered the top of his head as well.

“Last night?” Simon asked after some time had passed, “The wine must have been very strong…”

“Is your memory fuzzy?” Julian laughed.

“It is,” Simon smiled sheepishly.

“You were such a passionate lover,” Julian spoke, “Still the best I’ve ever had.”

“Oh,” Simon laughed nervously. It explained the dull ache radiating from his rectum. Even after all the guys in the brothel he didn’t feel so used and raw.

“Time to put some of the balm on your face, my pet.”

Simon applied thick ointment to his damaged face as instructed. The marks were already healing amazingly well considering how deep they had been.

“We will arrive on the outskirts of Votu Vomir soon,” Julian spoke, “I’ve asked the driver to stop the carriage so you can see something incredible.”

Simon looked eagerly out but saw nothing that betrayed the surprise on the vast, white horizon. But he didn’t have to wait long, as about an hour later the carriage slowed to a halt.

“We’re here!” Julian flashed a broad smile like an excited kid.

Simon followed his lord from the carriage and was met with a jaw-dropping sight. High in the mountains nestled a vast crater that was roughly four leagues in diameter. Simon might have subconsciously recognized the crater from the realm of Meridiah if his focus was not immediately drawn to the center of the crater. A large city had been built inside the crater and at the heart was a jutting castle of ice. Massive crystalline spears reaching up into the sky, translucent and slick, but at its heart almost a dark blue hue.

“That’s the expression…” Julian was uncharacteristically giddy as he was watching Simon.

“It’s beautiful,” Simon found the description inadequate but felt he had to say something.

“That’s my home,” Julian placed an arm around his new pet, “I was here when we began construction. Creating a monumental treasure in the ruins of our devastated civilization. The border to the other realms is strong here and our magic was amplified in this crater. We found we could work great and terrible feats of power.”

Simon was in awe, but in the back of his mind began to worry he might freeze to death in this snow-covered place. They rode on and Simon would frequently stick his head out the carriage flaps to sneak a peek at the massive structure growing ever closer into view. It was indeed a miraculous creation and far exceeded the Bastion in terms of its beauty.

“I have sent word ahead,” Julian spoke after a time, “They have prepared for your arrival and magic fires will be set in your chambers for warmth. We are not entirely unequipped to host the living in Castle Votu Vomir.”

“I could go for a nice warm bath too,” Simon joked aloud, not truly expecting the request to be fulfilled.

“Anything for you, my pet,” Julian responded without hesitation. Simon looked at him surprised and then smiled bashfully.

“You are not used to living in luxury and comfort?”

“I suppose not,” Simon shrugged.

“You will be my finest treasure,” Julian whispered softly as he caressed Simon’s cheek. Simon felt the chill all the way down to his spine. His lips felt almost blue and his teeth chattered a bit. Somewhere deep, deep inside he had lost Yidian. Their connection was so feeble now and it had happened the previous night, Simon was sure of it. He only wished he could piece the fragmented memories together. A brief flash of blood dripping from Julian’s open mouth as he laughed, but it was fleeting and then gone.

As promised, when the carriage rumbled to a stop, the majority of the castle staff were waiting in the grand hall to greet their new arrivals. They stood to either side of a long royal blue runner that stretched the length of the mighty room. The vaulted ice ceiling overhead was smoothed and carved with swirling magic symbols. Some of the runes embedded into the design were craftily enchanted to keep the structure in place and prevent it from melting. To the average visitor it would just look like a pretty pattern on the ceiling.

The staff placed a hand to their chest and bowed in salute as their lord strolled passed. Simon felt uneasy, but he stayed by Julian where he knew he’d be safe. At the end of the row of servants, Julian gestured to a weathered old man with beady little eyes and an irregularly large, hooked nose.

“My personal butler, Edmond Visnau,” Julian introduced Simon to the man.

“A pleasure!” the butler twanged in a nasally voice and bowed to his lord and the new guest.

“Edmond will see to your every need,” Julian spoke, “If you require anything, simply ask it of him. We are in need of a warm bath as soon as we have finished here.”

“Of course, my lord,” Edmond bowed again.

“And finally,” Julian turned to a very dark-skinned man standing up on a raised dais where an icy throne was seated. The man was youthful and handsome with dark black eyes, dressed in fine royal garments of blue and purple. Simon was immediately drawn to the power and presence of this enigmatic individual.

“My old friend,” the man purred in a most seductive, barritone voice and then embraced Julian in a strong hug, clapping each other on the back. Simon couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy.

“This is Master Akar Kalayvan, Steward of Votu Vomir, Vicar General to the Order of Belothemid, and my dear friend.”

“The Order of…” Simon gasped at the declaration feeling what little color he had left in his face draining away.

“Yes,” Master Akar’s deep voice purred, “The Order is very much still alive here, despite the High Council’s protests.”

“We are not as barbaric as you might have heard,” Julian smiled at Simon’s frightened expression, “You trust me, don’t you, my pet?”

“Of course, my lord,” Simon managed to speak at length. He was recalling the disturbing demon that named himself Rocky in the land of Meridiah. He had claimed that Belothemid and his demons intended to enslave all of humanity. Despite every effort to resist and defy his supposed destiny, Simon had found himself in the center of danger yet again.

“Perhaps,” Master Akar smiled also, but it did not touch his dark black eyes, “You too will become a true believer.”

“My commands you will follow, my pet,” Julian turned Simon’s head so their eyes met, “As you will follow the commands of Master Akar. I am your lord. He is your master.”

“Yes, my lord,” Simon whispered weakly from his dry mouth. His limbs felt heavy and his mind was swirling with fear. He remembered the way he had turned away the orcs and his friend, Connor. He had forsaken them in favor of this pale, dead man before him. He’d allowed Yidian to be silenced and suppressed. What had he done?