by Dante King
“More of a match that led to heaven,” she said.
Priestess Entwistle drank a little wine, stopped trying to jerk me off under the table with her foot, and placed a possessive hand on my thigh.
I looked down the table at my friends. My thoughts were occupied with what this woman could have in store for me and the rest of the gang.
Did she want my father’s staff? When she’d seen it, her eyes sure had lit up like those of a binge eater on finding the back door of the Pillsbury factory unlocked.
Was she trying to sway all of us—not just me—into whatever crackpot cause she was fronting? The way that she had bewitched Alura certainly supported that theory.
Or, did she simply want to keep me here as her little sex slave, after failing to ensnare my father all those years ago?
I cast an eye over the Holy Mage’s gorgeous body. From her curling blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, to her taut, tall, toned physique. She reminded me of a cross between a nineties Baywatch star and one of the Amazon beauties on Themyscira. There was no denying that she was absolutely banging hot—not just attractive in every conventional sense, but in the way that she looked as if she could also take down the rowdier members of the Mayan biker gang single-handedly.
There was something undeniably sexy about a woman who could handle herself. My mind played a quick snippet of how Angelina Jolie gave Brad Pitt a run for his money in Mr and Mrs Smith. I could just imagine Priestess Entwistle wrapping her legs around my waist while we wrestled on the floor of the banquet hall, maybe tossing me over a table, then landing hard on top of me, her thighs pinning me, her crotch—
“Why are you here, son of Zenidor?” Mallory Entwistle asked, her question popping my daydream like a soap bubble.
“Firstly,” I said, “it’s Justin. Son of Zenidor is way too The Empire Strikes Back for my tastes. Secondly, I just came along for moral support. You said so yourself, Odette and Madame Xel are old buddies of yours, aren’t they?”
I looked theatrically to my right and left, where Madame Xel and Odette were sitting watching me and Priestess Entwistle out of the corners of their eyes. “They’re probably here just to see how you’ve been getting along.”
Mallory Entwistle leaned in further, running her nails up the inside of my thigh so that my cock instantly took on half-chub status. She smelled like sex and sweat and lust and springtime, if that makes any sense. It was how a bedroom might have smelled if a bunch of daffodils and roses had been doing the mattress mambo for a couple of days with the windows closed. It was intoxicating, heady, and pulled at every animal instinct in my body. If my wang had possessed a mouth it would have been salivating.
“You’re lying to me, Justin,” she said reprovingly. “Why is that you’re here, hm? I might not be able to quite put my finger on the nub, but this is far from a social call.”
Well, she was right there. You didn’t get much more unsociable than rocking up to someone’s pad with the express intention of killing them.
She continued, “Was I correct in first thinking that you are Mortimer’s apprentice, that you wish to claim my bounty? But why would the Son of Zenidor wish such a thing? One thing is certain: you are lying.”
“I’m not lying,” I said. “I’m being ‘diplomatic.’ My friend Alura has taught me that skewing the truth comes under the umbrella of politics—which, as far as I can figure it out, basically involves two parties trying to get one over on each other, telling bigger and bigger lies until one party comes out on top and gets what they want. The winning party is then, of course, allowed to write history in a light that most strongly favors them.”
I think that little speech went across quite nicely with Priestess Entwistle because she laughed then. A few members of her court sitting nearby stopped chatting amongst themselves and looked over at us with their mouths slightly ajar, a sure sign that hearing their boss laughing was far from usual.
“You are astute,” Mallory said. “I can see why Odette and Madame Xel brought you along to help them with whatever it is they wished to achieve here.”
I let the fact that they had come here to help me slide. Better to have this woman think that I was just along for the ride and not the entire reason why we were here.
“Speaking of Alura,” I said, “it doesn’t strike me as very polite to put a guest under an enchantment as soon as she wonders in through the door.”
Priestess Entwistle regarded me. “Some people,” she said, “are more suggestible than others. Being a younger member of a royal house, your friend is accustomed to being bossed around, used to having her schedule and every move dictated to her. Such people can sometimes become enamored of me, it is true. I command a certain… intense loyalty. I could snap my fingers and she would come out of the trance, but she looks so happy, does she not?”
We eyed each other for a few moments, and I could almost hear the gears turning in the Priestess’ head. Could almost feel our wills flashing this way and that in front of our faces, like imaginary fencing swords.
She was obviously waiting for me to ask her to break the bewitchment, but I wasn’t about to do that. Doing that would place us both at the bargaining table, and I needed to know what we both had to barter with before I started throwing bargaining chips down.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that, as much as a tyrannical pain in the ass as this woman might seem, there might be something more to her. Something more to her story.
Had Mortimer been right? Was the Chaos Magic that had created this place fucking with Mallory’s mind? What would happen if we got her out of here, I wondered? Still, I had a Mage Qualifier to win, and the potential of screwing up my spell progression. I had to speak to my father, and that meant getting a soul.
I groaned inwardly. Why did life have to throw these moral dilemmas at the most inopportune times?
After a bit of intense scrutinizing of each other’s faces, which may or may not have evolved into some eye-fuckery, Entwistle spoke.
“You know,” she said, “I was informed that Zenidor and Istrea had a child—a boy—but that he was killed when they fell. Killed by the Arcane Council.”
“It would seem not,” I said. “I was just put away into storage for a little while. Gathering dust in an occult bookstore on Earth.”
Mallory nodded. She popped a grape into her mouth—it seemed that these badass ruler types were always eating grapes or cherry tomatoes or olives in these situations, and now I had first hand proof that it wasn’t just some sort of trope—and chewed thoughtfully.
“The rumor was,” she said, squeezing my knee and speaking into my ear, “that the child was said to be a Creation Mage…”
“Is that right,” I said non-committedly.
“These Creation Mages,” Entwistle said, speaking fast into my ear now while I ate a forkful of custard tart, “they were said to be able to create unique spells; by both hybridizing the different magical elements and, also, by literally making new spells as they needed them.”
Well, that was a good bit of information. It wasn’t all that more than what I already knew, just slightly more specific.
“It looks like you’re no stranger to combining magical elements,” I said. “One minute, I and my friends were fighting on the side of the mountain, the next thing we’re bound and playing the submissives in what could have turned out to be some kinky throne room orgy. Chaos and Holy Magic, who’d have thought they’d make for such an entertaining combo.”
Priestess Entwistle smiled at me. Her teeth, like the rest of her, were perfect.
“What I did here isn’t pure Creation though,” she said, and there was a hunger and eagerness in her voice that she could not mask. “That is simply me utilizing the magic of other mages and combining it with my own. Teamwork. I suppose it is similar to what a Creation Mage can do, if a gecko is somehow similar to an Elder Dragon.”
I finished my tart and dabbed at my lips with my linen napkin. “Good looking and modest,” I said, with only the tiniest
trace of sarcasm.
Entwistle snorted. “Humility is for those with time to beat around the bush,” she said. “I prefer truth.”
Her lips were so close to my ear that I occasionally felt them brush against it. It was not an unpleasant feeling. With her sitting so close to me and dressed in a garment that looked like it was made with tooth floss, I found my blood starting to heat up.
“How did you manage to get these Chaos Mages to help you?” I asked, attempting to change the subject so I could spare a few brain cells to come up with a plan. “This enchantment that you’re using seems incredibly powerful.”
“I wonder, can you be trusted?” Priestess Entwistle mused.
I shrugged. “In all honesty, I don’t really care. My knowledge of this world is far less than any of my friends, what with me being raised on Earth and all. I’d be interested to hear though, if you’re willing to tell me.”
There is a streak of vanity in all of us, and it seemed that Mallory’s prowess with magical schemes was where Mallory Entwistle’s streak ran deepest.
“The spells—the ones I used to create this magical stronghold in which you find yourself, where everything bends to my slightest whim—were taken from the most powerful Inscribers the Seraphic Realms have to offer,” she said, picking up another grape and squishing it idly between forefinger and thumb. “The Chaos Mages I employed were given these spells. At first, I let them leave after they were finished. Then, I thought to myself: ‘What should happen if they use these same spells on another person’s abode?’ It would mean that my tower would not be the most beautiful. And, really, I suppose I am a little vain, and I could not allow this to happen. So, I imprisoned them here. But they have such a terrible habit of leaping from the mountaintop.”
“Right. Aren’t you worried that the higher-ups who govern in the Seraphic Realm might do something about you?” I asked. “Or the bounty that’s on your head?”
“The bounty doesn’t phase me. Those few who attempt to claim it believe me a powerful but not entirely impressive mage, so they are no match for my trials. Those in the Seraphic Realm probably would deal with me, but they are busy with more pressing problems.”
“They have bigger problems than you becoming as powerful as you are?” I said in surprise. “Have they never heard of coups?”
Priestess Entwistle breathed heavily onto the side of my neck, causing Justin Junior to sit up a little straighter. “I think, like all bureaucrats, my superiors are more interested in concentrating on the problems that they are more comfortable with—problems that they recognize as problems. Doing this means that they don’t have to worry themselves with determining how to deal with new nuisances, while making it seem like they are doing a good job of governing things up here. The Infernal Realm is constantly pressing the boundaries and causing all kinds of trouble for us, but they have been doing that for millenia.”
“Madame Xel did mention that you and her started off on rocky ground, but then became buddies,” I said.
Mallory Entwistle smiled. Her hand stopped working at my thigh for a moment, and she gazed down the table at the succubus, who was busy picking a chicken wing apart with her sharp, white teeth.
“That’s right,” the Holy mage said, almost wistfully. “We became quite close.”
The Priestess’ eyes flickered slightly, and she seemed to regard someone else, someone sitting further along from Madame Xel, with an unfriendly look on her beautiful, pale face. She sat back in her chair, crossed her long legs, and said, “Why, Justin, are you here?”
I considered doing a bit of Bill Clinton on her and fabricating some fanciful lie, but decided against it at the last second. I was a simple man, in some regards, but a good judge of character too. Something was nagging in my guts—and it wasn’t the pheasant leg warring with the custard tart—that told me that coming clean with this strong, pragmatic woman might be the smarter course of action.
After all, if I told her what my plan was, she might point out a powerful, evil mage that I could kill guiltlessly. There was bound to be someone else in this dining hall that fit that description, right?
So, I forged on, aiming at coming clean with Mallory.
“This is going to sound a little bit rude,” I said, leaning in so that I wouldn’t run the risk of being overheard, and picking up a segment of a Avalonian dessert that I recognized as being a molten hydra cake, “but I actually came here to kill you.”
Many people—most, I might venture to say—on finding out that the person that they had just spent the last twenty minutes unashamedly flirting with was there to kill them would react in some way. This was not so with Priestess Mallory Entwistle. She quite literally did not bat an eyelid at my words.
That was impressive. That sort of control spoke volumes about the kind of mage she was.
However, when she spoke, her voice had definitely taken on a slightly more brittle edge.
“You’re here to kill me?” she said, raising one blonde eyebrow.
“‘Fraid so,” I said, and took a bite of cake.
It was a delicious dessert and I told my host so. The compliment didn’t seem to take the sting out of the fact that I had just admitted that I was there to assassinate her, funnily enough.
“So, you really are Mortimer Chaosbane’s little apprentice?” she asked.
I shook my head. “No, no.”
“Tell me, seeing as you’re being so obligingly—if not suicidally—honest,” Entwistle said, drumming her fingers on the table. “Why did you decide to tell me that?”
“Because, I think you are the kind of level-headed and shrewd woman that isn’t going to fly off the handle and murder someone just because they admit that they came knocking at your door with the intention of murdering you,” I said reasonably.
“You think that, do you?” Mallory said. Her voice was still honeyed and euphonious, but there was a subtle suggestion of the razor blade hidden in the cottoncandy about it now.
I took another bite of cake and nodded. “I do,” I said, when I had swallowed. “Because I think you’re going to want to know why it is that I didn’t try and do it.”
A small smile formed on the Priestess’ face.
I had captured her attention, I had snared her interest.
“Go on,” she said quietly.
“It was all your chat about how much you respected and liked my father that stopped me,” I said.
“What has my esteem for your father got to do with anything?” the ethereal-looking woman asked me.
“Because the reason that we are here,” I explained, “is because you have a bounty on your head. We need the soul energy from three legitimate bounties—so that, if the Arcane Council gets wind of our actions, it looks like we’ve just been out on a harmless bounty hunting mission.”
“And what do you need the soul energy for?” Mallory asked. Her eyes were glittering with ready intelligence. “I assume that you are trying to awaken something, or free something. That is what that sort of power is usually stored and used for.”
“As for that,” I said. “I think that’s why you’re not only going to let me off the hook, but also help me fulfil my quest.”
I summoned my staff into my hand and held it below the level of the table so that only Priestess Entwistle could see it.
The stunning Holy Mage looked down at the staff, then up at me. Her eyes were wide.
“You think… You think that your father’s soul resides within the staff?” she asked.
“I know it does,” I replied with a grin. “I need the energy from those souls so that I can have a chat with the old man. We have a lot of catching up to do.”
Priestess Entwistle sat back in her chair. I wouldn’t have said that she looked stunned—she had far too much self-control for that—but she did look very thoughtful. I saw her eyes watching someone over my shoulder again.
She was calculating something. Doing some serious mental weighing up.
I waited. Biding my time. Kno
wing that if I hurried whatever decision she was making, it might very well be me decorating the rocks far below in a few short minutes.
“I can help you fulfill your mission,” she murmured after a full minute of cogitation.
“You can?” I asked. “How? Excuse me for saying so, but you don’t strike me as the sort of woman who is into the whole self sacrifice deal.”
Mallory Entwistle laughed shortly. Her eyes flicked back down the table again.
“No, I am not one for such things. Life is valuable, and what I know is more valuable still.”
“Then how do you propose to help us get what we need?” I asked.
Entwistle took a sip of wine from my glass and cleared her throat. “Mortimer Chaosbane and I were close friends once upon a time,” she said. “He used to write to me often, before his business took him away and I became the mage you see sitting before you. He told me often who amongst my followers had bounties upon their heads. I have known for a long time that I did. Some have even come to claim it, before you. All have failed.”
“Encouraging,” I said. “Glad Mortimer thought to share that with the group.”
“Do not hold it against him,” Mallory said. “He must have had his reason. The Chaosbanes are…”
I nodded and grinned exasperatedly. “I know what the Chaosbanes are.”
“Right. Well, to cut a long story short, he told me that my second-in-command, Hecca, has long been wanted by the Arcane Council. Might I suggest that you take her life instead of my own.”
“I imagine it might be less messy than trying to take you out,” I said.
Mallory nodded seriously. “Yes. I guarantee that the walls of this hall will run with blood before you manage to prise my life from me.”
“And why would you offer this Hecca woman up?” I asked.
“I’ve long known that she has been selling my plans and my thoughts to my enemies and competitors,” Mallory said. “In fact, she was the one who supplied a rival with my first Chaos Mage. After he stopped his work with me, he went to another mountain and built another tower. Can you believe it? You should see the place. It’s quite revolting. Nothing like this.” She raised her arms to display her, admittedly, beautiful feasting hall. “So, Hecca must go. You will be doing me a favor in removing her, while enabling you to capture the soul of a genuine bounty.”