Calatin didn't even try to defend his position. He knew that Medeia was the daughter of a blacksmith and proud of her simple heritage. Born with an extraordinary ability to use magic, her family had handed her over to the guild at a very early age. But it had been her stubbornness that had brought her to her office, fighting one magician after the other in the yearly tournament, whose winner was announced to be guild master - until a new, more powerful sorcerer defeated him in open battle.
"Whatever King Elathan decides, is none of your concern, sorceress," he said harshly. "Unless you have another reason to be here and disturb me while I was engaged in making love, then I would ask you to leave me in peace. I would like to finish what I started." Behind him, the nude little fairy shivered with anticipation. "Face it, our affair was most pleasurable while it lasted, but now it's over. I'm sorry, Medeia."
This drove the cloaked woman into a frenzy and she raised her hands, her fingertips emanating sparks of blue fire. She narrowed her eyes, hissing, "Sorry? You have the audacity to tell me, the master of the Guild of Magicians, that you feel sorry for me? No, Calatin. It will be you who will be sorry, and very soon. You, who are loved by so many women, yet have never loved anything else but yourself." She spread out her arms as if she wanted to rise up into the heavens and fly, but it was pure magic that whirled all around her now, causing the air to crackle. All noises had ceased as the forest fell dead silent.
Medeia's eyes turned so dark that the whites around her pupils disappeared as she worked herself into a trance, talking more to herself than to Calatin right now. "Killing you wouldn't be half as pleasing as what I intend to do to you now, lover. I will take you to a place where all your good looks and high-bred position will serve for nothing. I will even strip you of your otherworldly beauty so no one will recognize you for what you are. You will be nothing, looking just like the creatures in whose midst you will live from now on, unable to use your magic. Worthless, inferior beings that they are, they will sense that you're different, that you're not one of them. They will kill you in no time, and by then you'll hate me so much that your last thought will be of me, of all women."
She laughed joyfully, a sound so cold that the bird fairy gasped with fear. It was a mistake, for the sorceress turned her attention to her. "Die," she growled, and before the fairy could turn into a bird and escape, she exploded in a blinding surge of light, without even having time enough to scream.
Roaring with anger, Calatin shot a flash of silver fire at Medeia, attempting to shove her from the branch on which she was standing freely now, with wide-spread arms. Her head was thrown back while she was bathing in the ecstatic feeling of being connected to the ancient powers she had summoned from the bowels of the earth. But it was too late. Her magic already surrounded him like a cage, preventing him from using his own. Had he been prepared for this fight, he would probably have won, although Medeia wasn't an opponent with whom to deal lightly.
Suddenly, he felt as if he was being violently ripped apart and catapulted high up into the air. The pain was so excruciating that he was unable to move a single limb, and he felt his body begin to change, turning into something completely different. At the same time, Medeia's mind reached into his soul and took away the one thing he valued most of all, kept closest to his heart - the ability that had been with him since the day he was born. It represented all that he was, all he had ever been.
His magic.
Before the world he knew disintegrated into complete and utter darkness, the last sound that he heard was her laughter, mocking him. Then, he was falling, falling, and his whole being dissolved in the absolute nothing.
*****
© Deborah Court 2011
All rights reserved.
House of Pleasure Page 9