by M. Gregg Roe
Snapping out of his reverie, Ferikellan grabbed the bottle, exited to the hallway, and hurried down the spiral iron staircase to the sitting area below. “Vurk!” he yelled as he neared the bottom. “Attend!”
From down the narrow hallway, the gworn poked his head out of the kitchen. “What is it, boss?” he asked with a quizzical look.
Ferikellan held out the bottle as he strode forward. “Take this. We have a visitor. Put the bottle on the good tray with two goblets. Clean ones.”
Vurk took the bottle with his right lower hand while gesturing with both upper arms. “Who is it? We don’t get many visitors.”
“Do as I tell you,” Ferikellan growled, then watched as his assistant turned around and returned to the kitchen.
Two knocks sounded from the front door as he finished straightening his wrinkled and dusty, dark green clothing. There was no time to don nicer attire or groom himself. (His thick dark hair and full beard were both in need of a trim.) Hopefully that wouldn’t offend her. Ferikellan was a skilled spell-caster, but he was no match for someone empowered by Andoran himself. He just hoped she gave him time to explain.
“She is here,” he muttered to himself. “Must be polite. Must be contrite.” He chortled at his unintended rhyme.
Smiling nervously, Ferikellan walked forward and pulled open the door. He had always heard that Eyes of Andoran dressed elegantly and suffused arrogance, but the young woman’s attire was simple and her smile friendly. She appeared rather average for a human, with shoulder-length brown hair, deep brown eyes, and tan skin. Her loose, dark brown clothing was the functional type favored by peasants everywhere. Age-wise, he estimated her to be in her early twenties. Her face reminded him of the older sister of a boy he had grown up with—not classically beautiful but comely. But all of that could merely be subterfuge. Eyes were rumored to be capable of altering their physical appearance. Instead of much younger, she might be older than he was.
“Please stop messing around with the Gray Forest,” she said to him in a pleasant-sounding voice.
Please? He had expected threats, or worse. Fighting to remain calm, he opened his mouth to reply, but then snapped it shut. He wasn’t sensing any magical emanation from her whatsoever. How was that possible? Eyes were potent spell-casters, and he should be able to sense any nearby spell-caster.
“My magic is shielded,” she said, with a twinkle in her eyes. “Oh, and my name is Audrey.”
She must have detected his attempt to sense her. He hadn’t known it was possible to mask magic. That would definitely be a topic for future research. Well, assuming that she let him live. Her desire to talk was a relief, but no guarantee.
“I am Ferikellan,” he said, bowing slightly and still tense. “Would you care to come in? Perhaps have some wine?”
“Yes, to both.” Her smile broadened as she looked past him into the house. “You live with a gworn. Is he your assistant?”
He stepped back and gestured toward his sad excuse for a sitting area—two plain wooden chairs flanking a small table and facing the stone fireplace. “Vurk is indeed my assistant. You are familiar with them?”
She stepped inside and glanced around. “I know people that have gworn working for them,” she said absently, peering at the tapestry that was the room’s sole decoration. It depicted a colorful woodland scene, complete with deer, rabbits, and birds.
He seated himself as she carefully sat down in the other chair. Sized for an elf, it made her look comically large.
After Vurk had provided each of them with a goblet of wine and departed smirking, Ferikellan went on the offensive. “I seek to restore the Gray Forest to its normal state,” he said sincerely. “It is my life’s work. If I am successful, then we will be free, no longer trapped within the prison of Andoran’s Realm.”
Cradling her goblet with both hands, Audrey frowned at him. “Have you heard of Ariana’s Passage?” she asked, raising her thin eyebrows.
Ferikellan crinkled his deep blue eyes as he smiled. “I have indeed. Ariana was a powerful druid who used the EarthStaff to carve a passage through the Gray Forest. It didn’t last, but it showed the possibility. It was, in fact, my inspiration. Like druids, I too am a specialist in earth magic,” he concluded proudly, raising his goblet.
“You obviously don’t know what happened after that,” she said offhandedly. “The Gray Forest started growing inward. It would eventually have turned all of Andoran’s Realm into Gray Forest. Another druid stopped it by using the EarthStaff, but it wasn’t easy.”
“Another druid?” he asked in confusion. He knew the passage hadn’t persisted, presumably closing back up naturally, but that was all. So much for dazzling her with his knowledge of the Gray Forest.
Audrey’s expression turned stony. “Ariana’s actions attracted the attention of Josara, the only remaining Eye of Andoran. She slew Ariana and took possession of the EarthStaff. Josara’s actions saved Andoran’s Realm, but she also caused a great deal of harm. Fortunately, she’s dead now.”
Ferikellan’s jaw had fallen open in surprise at her unexpected remarks, and it took him a moment to regain his composure. “If you are not an Eye, then what are you?” he asked fearfully.
Showing no sign of offense, she merely shrugged. “I’m the Guardian of Andoran’s Realm. I’ve been given magical powers, but I wasn’t born a spell-caster. And I didn’t ask for the job.”
He wasn’t sure if that was good news or bad. Audrey seemed approachable, and he desperately wanted to continue his researches. But after what she had told him, he would need to do some investigating. Had what he had done that morning destabilized the Gray Forest? They would need to be investigated.
With an intent expression that chilled him to the bone, she said, “Let me be clear. If you do something like that to the Gray Forest again, I will kill you permanently and destroy all of your research. Do you understand?”
Feeling sick to his stomach, he nodded meekly. It was clearly no idle threat.
“Have you considered a different approach?” she asked, softening her gaze.
He blinked in surprise. “Such as?”
She took a long drink and smacked her lips before answering. “There’s a man who created a potion that allows someone to safely travel inside the Gray Forest. It somehow turns them gray, just like what happens when I go inside.”
Ferikellan stared, flabbergasted. The possibility had never occurred to him. His focus was on removing the forest’s enchantment, not adapting to it. Ideas sparked in his mind as he stared blankly. How was it possible? He had to know. “It sounds as if the problem has already been solved,” he finally said.
She shook her head firmly. “It’s not. The potions are hard to make and are specific to one person. And they barely last long enough—maybe three hours or so.”
He considered the matter. Perhaps he could improve the potion. Better yet, he might endeavor to craft a spell that duplicated the effect. It wasn’t as impressive as doing away with the Gray Forest entirely, but it would allow for travel outside Andoran’s Realm. And the work could still bring great fame were it to become public. Resisting the urge to chortle, he adopted a serious expression and nodded his understanding.
They continued to sip their wine as he pondered what she had related. Would she want him to work with the potion’s creator? His knowledge of alchemy was passable, but hardly expert.
“I have a proposal,” she said suddenly, her gaze on the crude stone fireplace.
Unable to read anything in her expression or body language, he took a deep breath and said, “I am listening.”
“There’s a stone keep that’s empty at the moment. It’s a decent place to live, and you can see the Gray Forest from the top of it. The druid that currently has the EarthStaff lives nearby with his wife. Maybe you could work with him.”
It was tempting in some respects. The wooden house he and Vurk currently occupied was old and drafty. A stone keep sounded infinitely better, provided that it was in good repa
ir. It was the druid that concerned him. Would he expect Ferikellan to work for him, or would they both be working for Audrey? The truth was that he preferred to work alone and always had. Vurk was merely his assistant, not his equal.
What was the alternative? He harbored no doubt that Audrey’s threat of violence was genuine. Furthermore, her knowledge of his successful test bespoke some type of observational capability. Declining her proposal would mean giving up all research into the Gray Forest, abandoning his life’s work. That was unthinkable.
He drew himself up and cleared his throat. “I accept,” he told her when she looked over.
“Wonderful.” Her smile faded as she cocked her head in thought. “The keep is furnished, but it needs to be thoroughly cleaned. Is three days from now enough time for you to pack? I’m free that afternoon.”
“Will you be providing transportation?” he asked, wondering at her comment. It sounded as though she lived a busy life.
She nodded. “I’ll be teleporting you directly to the keep, so you really just need to gather up everything you want to take with you.”
“Three days will be more than adequate,” he said graciously. “We will be ready.”
“Then it’s settled.” After one last drink, she put the goblet aside and rose to her feet. “Did I mention the keep has indoor toilets?”
Ferikellan couldn’t suppress his look of joy. He hated using outhouses, especially when it was cold. “I look forward to it,” he said, causing her to chuckle.
“And I look forward to not having to dig any more outhouse pits,” Vurk called out from where he was standing, just inside the hallway that led to the kitchen and back door.
“Do you live nearby?” Ferikellan inquired, curious to learn more about this so-called Guardian.
“No,” she replied with a shake of her head. “I live in the Witch’s City.”
“I have visited the Witch’s City, but not for some time.” In fact, he hadn’t been there for over thirty years. It wasn’t near the Gray Forest.
Audrey flashed a quick smile. “Thank you for the wine. I’ll see both of you in three days. Ferikellan and Vurk, right?”
Her pronunciation was close enough. “Yes, Guardian.”
“Oh!” she said, holding up a finger. “The keep is in the middle of an ogre village. Is that a problem?”
He really wished that she had mentioned that little tidbit of information earlier. “No,” he lied. “It is fine.”
“Okay. Bye.” She abruptly vanished.
Ferikellan stared at the spot where Audrey had been standing. She had just employed powerful magic that he hadn’t sensed at all. It was disquieting, to say the least. It was also proof that she was who she claimed to be.
“Did you notice the way she moved?” Vurk asked, suddenly standing nearby.
Ferikellan eyed his slyly smiling assistant. “No, I did not.”
Vurk made one of his odd, multi-armed gestures. “I’ve seen it before, boss. She’s had training in unarmed combat. She doesn’t need magic to kill us.” He punched the air for emphasis.
Ferikellan had only noticed that Audrey had good posture. It was more evidence that he was dealing with a complete unknown. He needed to find out as much as he could about her.
“When will lunch be ready?” he snapped at his still-grinning assistant.
“Half an hour?” Vurk turned and headed toward the kitchen.
After sighing deeply, Ferikellan headed back upstairs with a heavy heart.
Standing once again with a goblet of wine in his hand, he admired the sunlit meadow. Spring was his favorite time of year, with everything blooming. He hoped the view from his new home would be just as lovely, but somehow he doubted it. Ogres weren’t known for their gardening skills—or for their social skills. This, apparently, was to be his punishment for meddling with the Gray Forest. Well, there was nothing for it now. His fate was sealed.
[ 2 ]
The Succubus
Aliva didn’t release the boy's legs until she was certain he was dead. Her tears mingled with the water around her as the limp body slowly drifted both upward and downstream. The spell enabling her to breathe underwater allowed her to see that all too clearly. Finally, she tore her gaze away and swam the opposite direction, careful to stay well below the river’s rippled surface.
Thank you, sounded the inhumanly beautiful voice of Lasrina in Aliva’s head. I know that was difficult for you.
Rather than answer, Aliva concentrated on swimming. She worked her way gradually to the right, toward the wide river’s southern shore. It was taxing because she was opposing the stiff current.
People worshipped Lasrina as the goddess of luck, but it was more than that. The goddess could perceive a myriad of potential futures. She worked constantly to achieve the future she desired while battling those working toward other possibilities. But Lasrina couldn’t act directly. She worked through intermediaries, and Aliva was one of those. Most of the time, the goddess asked for simple actions that did no real harm, but not this time. Obeying Lasrina’s command, Aliva had just drowned a nine-year-old boy.
He will be restored to life by evening, the goddess intoned.
That was comforting, but it was still a traumatic experience for the boy and his family, not to mention the friends he had been swimming with. But maybe that was the point. The boy had a reputation for being both rebellious and a bully. Dying in such a way might cause him to become a better person.
Aliva’s relationship with Lasrina had begun years earlier, when she pledged her service in exchange for a boon. The goddess had fulfilled her part of the bargain, restoring the minds of eight innocent people who had suffered greatly after being abducted and tortured by a true villain. In hindsight, she should have negotiated the length of her service to the goddess, but it was too late now.
Finally nearing the shore, Aliva stood and walked out of the water onto the heavily overgrown riverbank that bordered an area of dense woods. (It was an area left undeveloped because it flooded regularly.) For nearly a minute, she stood in the mid-afternoon sunshine as she caught her breath. The warmth felt good on her face but reached no further. Cold water dripped steadily from her saturated clothing, but she resisted the impulse to strip it all off.
It was time to employ more magic. Aliva quickly cast two spells, rendering herself invisible and enabling her to fly. Her bare feet pulled out of the mud she had been slowly sinking into with an audible sound. (Her nice leather shoes were somewhere on the bottom of the river.) She ascended slowly until she was well above the tallest trees in the vicinity, then flew inland several hundred yards before heading west. Built at the triangular confluence of two large rivers, Rohoville was a lovely city, with a great deal of greenery and rolling hills. But she was in no mood to admire the scenery.
Even though the two of them were now married, Aliva still thought of her home as Stanley’s house. Not far from the river confluence, and situated atop a flat-topped hill, the single-story structure had a small courtyard garden planted with flowering bushes. After landing in the courtyard, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, still feeling the emotional impact of the foul deed she had committed.
Once inside, Aliva headed straight to the nearby bathroom. Before removing her sodden apparel, she washed the dried mud off her feet. Next was peeling off her clothing and dropping each item unceremoniously onto the ceramic tile floor. Finally, she used two large towels to dry herself, including her hair.
Moving to the bedroom, she regarded herself in the full-length mirror. One of the most useful abilities Aliva had inherited from her succubus mother allowed her to assume the appearance of any female humanoid, even ones significantly larger or smaller than a human. Her current appearance was a disguise of sorts, a middle-aged human so appallingly average that people tended not to notice her and would struggle to describe her if they did. Had she not ended up soaking wet, she could have simply walked home.
With a thought, Aliva restored the appearance that sh
e had used for most of her adult life, one based closely on her natural form. Taller than average for a female human, her raven black hair fell just past her shoulders, contrasting vividly with flawless alabaster skin. Violet eyes were unusual, but not unheard of. Her voluptuous body sported large breasts, a narrow waist, broad hips, and shapely legs. High cheekbones, delicate eyebrows, a noble nose, and full lips made her oval face a thing of beauty. Her natural form was even more beautiful and sexy, like something out of a male’s fantasy. But what would you expect of someone who was part sex demon?
After donning undergarments and dressing in the loose clothing she favored, Aliva made herself a cup of tea before settling into one of the upholstered chairs in the large sitting room. She was no stranger to killing—either in self-defense or those truly deserving death—but this had been murder. Asking Lasrina why the boy’s death had been necessary was futile; the goddess rarely explained herself. Maybe the boy would have grown up to be a mass murderer. Or maybe his death was a means of manipulating someone else. Not knowing was frustrating.
When Stanley arrived home an hour later, she was still brooding. Tears flowed uncontrollably as her confession spilled out. Holding her gently, he stroked her back and murmured words of comfort. Warmth filled her as she finally relaxed. What would she have done without him?
Tall and thin, Stanley was a human male three years older than her current age of twenty-five. He had been cursed with large ears that stuck out and a face that made him always look a bit surprised. All in all, he was about the last man anyone had expected someone who looked like her to end up with. It hadn’t been easy or quick, but she had seen past his less-than-appealing physical appearance to the good and kind man inside. She loved him with all her heart, from his perpetually disheveled mud-brown hair to his large feet.
“The news had already reached us,” he said in a reedy voice, still cradling her. “One boy he was swimming with swears he saw a black tentacle come out of the water and pull his friend under.”