Part 19A

Gaeaye sat dangling her shapely legs in a pristine brook, her lush body covered only by her dark hair, which would have hung down to her knees if she were standing. The scent of flowers — every flower known in the world — filled the air. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the trees surrounding the stream. Birds sang in those trees, and a fawn drank a few feet away from Gaeaye, untroubled by her presence. No man or god could have conceived a place more serene and peaceful.

Yet her face was troubled.

Inclining her head for a moment, the goddess known as the Earth Mother answered a call from Braeland, God of the Hunt, allowing him admittance into her realm.

He stood behind her in the sun-dappled meadow a moment later. Dressed in the brown and green of a huntsman with a longbow slung over his shoulder, he seemed an alien presence in this land where the animals held no fear. "Mother, do you feel it?"

Smiling for just a moment as a school of fry tickled her feet, Gaeaye replied, "We all feel it, Braeland. Something was taken from us when the stars aligned in the sky."

"But what? I feel as if a great darkness grows, and we are blind to the source."

"Listen, Braeland, do you not hear them? The heavens and hells are in turmoil. Something beyond us — beyond the mother of us all — has awakened. Something from the time before has been roused from its slumber."

Braeland moved to stand next to Gaeaye, concern obvious in his voice, "How is this possible?"

"All things are possible, Braeland. When mother's jewels divided the cloak of night, the power of all was strong. A pathway to the time before was opened, and it has awakened its own."

"What are we to do? This cannot be. That which was before would rend all creation."

Turning toward her visitor, Gaeaye advised, "Only if it is freed."

"If it has awakened, it will call to the mortals. They know not the danger and could be deceived."

"It is not unopposed. The signs revealed this prophecy to us, though we ignored them. Remember the prophecy. Even in the time before, so alien to us all, there was a balance."

Braeland exclaimed, "We must be the balance!"

The fawn drinking from the stream raised its head, ears pricked to the wind. Above, the sound of birdsong vanished. A voice emerged from behind the gods, where none should have stood to speak, "You are a part of it."

Spinning and pulling his longbow from his shoulder, knocking an arrow in the same fluid motion, Braeland turned upon the source of the voice.

Gaeaye vanished from where she sat, appearing beside Braeland and placing a hand upon his arm. "Do no violence in my realm. I sense no threat from this one."

Braeland released the draw of his bow slowly, reluctantly obeying the order of Gaeaye in this, her realm.

Gaeaye stepped forward. "Welcome, mortal, to my place of peace."

The man's voice was sonorous, and his tone respectful, if not reverent. "Thank you for your wise forbearance, Earth Mother."

Gaeaye tilted her head, the action revealing the swell of her breast. She then asked, "How is it that I do not know you?"

Toying with his iron-grey goatee, hints of a haughty smile crossed the mortal's face. "You do not know me for the same reason you have forgotten Zoraster Arias, as he calls himself now."

Braeland asked, "And what shall we call you, intruder?"

Smoothing his dark purple robes, the man offered a mocking bow and replied, "How remiss of me not to introduce myself, God of the Hunt. I am Rogan Illiciat. I serve that which opposes Zoraster and the darkness he seeks to free."

"I know you," Braeland said, narrowing his eyes.

Illiciat pulled the hood of his robe over his bald head, "Through those who serve you, as you may know Zoraster and those who serve him once more if you but concentrate. The eyes of mortals are unaffected by the powers. You are part of the balance, as are all who would see creation remain as it is now."

Despite another calming touch of Gaeaye's hand, Braeland retorted, "I cannot see into your heart and mind — how are we to know you do not serve the darkness?"

The haughty smile reemerged on Illiciat's face. "Such is irrelevant. I have given you the information you require to play your part in this game." Turning to Gaeaye, he added, "One more thing I will tell you, Earth Mother. You must heal the rift with the Fey."

Having spoken those words, Illiciat simply vanished as if he had never been.

Braeland turned to the nature goddess and said, "I do not trust this mortal, if he is indeed such."

"Once he may have been mortal, but no longer. He wields the power of Sorcery, and indeed the touch of that which was before is upon him. I must think on this, but I find wisdom in his instruction regarding the Fey. Our quarrel with them is selfish, based only upon the fact that they fall outside our sphere of influence. They are the balance to the Hellspawn, who will surely flock to the darkness, and we would do well to heal the rift with them."

Braeland furrowed his brow, considering the Earth Mother's words. "Perhaps, at least in that, he may speak truth."

"Tell the others of this Zoraster, as will I. If his presence is hidden from our eyes, he bears watching through those who serve us."

"As does this Illiciat," Braeland insisted.

"As does he," Gaeaye agreed.

Danica awoke to the odd sensation that an oppressive fog was hanging over her. Slipping into the second sight, she examined her wards and the magic present in the room, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. When she shook off the last vestiges of sleep, the strange feeling went with it.

It did nothing to remove Danica's worries.

The convergence had occurred the night before, and Danica's dreams had been troubled. Strange visions of mists, demons and danger had haunted her throughout the night. She had no idea whether the dreams were a product of the foul magic the Seer had said would happen, or her own subconscious concerns about the prophecy.

In the process of learning all the new spells from the temple of Sekmamun, and her recent research into demon-countering Art, something had been nagging at the back of Danica's mind. The protective magics she had always depended upon to defend her had proven useless against Meckataur's powers.

Rune magic was the thing that kept popping into her mind. Ever since her encounter with the worktable that had opened her mind to the runes, Danica had grown ever more proficient in their use. Now that she had mastered all the magic she felt was within her range for the time being, Danica was considering the possibility of creating some runic defenses. Runes might be able to protect her from the powers of demons, as well as other magics that didn't conform to the norms of the Art.

Danica only mused over the thoughts slightly as she bathed and ate, saving that for when she stepped into her lab afterwards. Sitting down at a desk, she retrieved a pen and paper, and then started to consider things in earnest.

A few sketches quickly let her know that, while possible, making some sort of amulet or other item and inscribing it with runes had limitations. She could only make details on such an item so small, and that limited the amount of protections such an item could provide. It would certainly have no space to contain offensive magic, although she could have created a wand or staff to house those sorts of powers.

Thinking back to her time on the island, and more specifically of the Nameless Ones, an idea occurred to Danica. Sigla had covered the zombies, essentially for show, but it did spark an idea that might work. There was plenty of space on one's body that could provide the canvas on which to draw many powerful rune structures.

The idea of defacing her body with runes, and the difficulty of doing so without help, didn't really have a lot of appeal to Danica, however. There was a solution to this as well, involving both a spell she had never really considered worth much effort, and a magical type of ink.

The spell, known as Reflection's Servant, allowed the caster to slip into a state of concentration and obtain a viewpoint as if they were outside their body. It was somewhat similar to astral projection, except the spell did not actually cause the caster to vacate their body. The spell also allowed the hazy image of oneself that the spell created as the caster's alternate viewpoint to manipulate objects in the physical world.

The notes about the spell listed removing offensive hair from the back as one of the possible uses of the spell. Considering how out of place it seemed with the remainder of the suggested uses, Danica considered it likely that this was the true reason for the spell's creation.

Considering the similarities to astral projection and telekinesis, which was very similar to how the spell manipulated physical objects, Danica felt she would be able to command the spell with the high level of mastery necessary to tattoo her body with runes. An incorrectly drawn rune was a dangerous thing, and something as permanent as a tattoo was not the sort of thing you wanted to make a mistake with, even if it were invisible.

Invisibility was the property of the ink, created for use in secret documents, only appearing under certain conditions. Otherwise, anything written with the ink vanished until called into visibility by the circumstances dictated during the making of the ink. Danica would have no need for the ink to be visible once the runes were finished, but knew it was likely the tattoos would be visible when the magic activated. The stronger the rune structure, the more likely it was to glow with power when activated.

The final problem was finding a way to draw the structures upon her body without Zoraster finding out about it. Danica had no desire to reveal what she knew about runes to Zoraster. While the structures she used in the defenses protecting her rooms bespoke a great deal of skill, they were a far cry from what she truly understood. It felt as if some new property or use of the runes appeared in her mind daily, and to Danica it seemed that understanding of rune magic grew exponentially after she obtained a certain level of mastery. Once you could recognize the patterns of runes and the way they fit together in structures, it became easier every day.

Danica discarded the idea of using the inner library at the temple of Sekmamun as a location, because it was not a private spot. She would need to be in various states of undress to draw the runes upon her skin, and the nature of the Reflection's Servant spell would make it difficult for her to quickly banish the spell and cover up if necessary. Danica had no shame about her body, but she wasn't pleasantly disposed toward alarming people who walked in upon her half-naked when they should have no reason to find such.

The numerous other places where Zoraster could not spy upon her had similar problems. The Spell Engine was one place that was completely private, but it would suck up her spell the instant it came into being.

Consideration of the Spell Engine provided her with the solution, the Hellgate. Danica could force time to move differently inside the pocket of space created by the spell. Inside, she could spend hours laboring over her tattoos, while only moments passed in the real world. She had to consider the demons within the Hellgate's space, but Danica was truly unconcerned about them, as she had been able to control them rather effectively in the two trips with Heather and Grant.

Danica still didn't know whether she would go through with the idea, but she certainly found that she leaned toward undertaking the task. For the time being, learning the Reflection's Servant spell was a necessary step, and it could possibly prove useful for other things.

The Master of the school where she and her sister had first studied had once told her, Magic is a subtle art, and even the most innocuous spell can prove to be of great value under the correct circumstances.

Danica had not given much weight to the statement, even well into her adult life, but had learned the truth of it since she had fallen into Zoraster's trap. Simple telekinesis, which she had always been good at but thought was all but useless, had saved her life more than once on her tasks.

Smiling at memories of her teen years struggling to learn magic, Danica made the decision to at least learn the spell, and then decide about the rest later.

Celes had taken advantage of the power offered by the convergence, as had Zoraster. The magic Celes utilized was no less important to her, but far less earth shattering. She had used the power of the convergence to alter the enchantments upon her toy. Before, an image of Andrea lapped her when she used the toy, but now Danica's auburn locks brushed against Celes' thighs when the magic was active.

The power of the convergence had also strengthened the power of the illusion. When Celes had strapped on the toy to test it following a short recovery period after casting the spell, she found that the illusion was so vivid it was difficult to believe that Danica was not actually between her legs, driving her to unbelievable heights of ecstasy. She had even been able to reach out and stroke those auburn curls, feeling them between her fingers, clenched in orgasm.

The toy lay on the nightstand, unwashed, and Celes lay naked in her bed, covered in the sticky evidence of her pleasure. She had barely been able to summon up the energy to remove the toy before collapsing into slumber.

Celes' desire flared again as she awakened, remembering the wonderful release, several times over, that the newly enhanced toy had given her the night before. She nearly reached for the toy to slide it over her loins once more, but stopped when she decided that becoming too addicted to the pleasure was unhealthy.

Rising with a sigh, Celes went to her bath, taking the toy with her to clean it as well. She had to fight the desire to use it the whole time, the feeling only fading when she put the toy away in the nightstand drawer and got it out of her sight.

Celes had gathered, with some trepidation, what little information she could find about witchcraft. There was much that was conjecture and rumor, but Celes remembered just enough of her mother's teachings that she thought she could determine what was true and what was false.

Now that she was stuck with her powers and her destiny once more, Celes decided that she should learn as much as she could about her powers. The conversation with Danica about the demon Meckataur had leant strength to this consideration in Celes' mind. Witchcraft was ultimately a weapon to defend against and destroy Hellspawn.

At least in the hands of a good witch.

A witch that turned to self-gain, or any other number of human fallibilities, became a tool of the very creatures the craft existed to combat. Demons took great delight in encouraging witches to turn, because it not only eliminated a dangerous enemy, it also provided them with tools to further their own desires.

Sitting down with one of the books, Celes took the first step in a long journey toward making up for lost time.

Zoraster waved his hands, and all the mirrors in his scrying room went dark. Everything was proceeding exactly as planned. Everyone and everything was in place, or would be soon. Stepping out of the room, he found Camilla waiting for him in the hall.

"Master, men from Draxnog wish to speak with you."

Zoraster rolled his eyes and sighed, "Send them to my sitting room and see that their comfort is provided for. I will await them there."

Strolling toward his rarely used sitting room, Zoraster sneered. He knew why the fools were coming — they sought more coin to build their armies. If the idiot Draxnog had not relied so heavily upon the slave labor of the plains barbarians, the nation would not be in the straits it was now. As it was, Zoraster propped up the economy of the entire nation by funding most of the military spending, a necessity if Draxnog was going to be of any use to him when the time came.

He needed that nation's forces to contend with Egoria, the nation carved from lands once occupied by Draxnog, by Thakkorias and his intrepid band of do-gooders. Draxnog had his faults, but his strength was in his hatred of the annoying cretins in Egoria that presented one of the two most significant threats to his plans. Zoraster needed those armies on the southern front when the time came to neutralize Egoria.

The coin was of no real concern; Zoraster had more sources to obtain that than he could ever hope to spend. Dealing with the annoying southerners, with their ridiculous accents, simply grated on his nerves.

Zoraster smiled thinking about the ultimate culmination of his plans, however. Draxnog would be one of the casualties in the war to come. While Zoraster was far from above using atrocity as a tool when necessary, Draxnog and his armies considered it a pleasurable diversion. Slavery, theft, murder, rape — all were weapons in Zoraster's hands, but they were the means to abolish such abominations in the perfect world he intended to rule.

Sending a silent thought ensured that the necessary funds would be ready immediately, and the brown-skinned beggars Draxnog had sent would be gone as quickly as possible. Walking in to the sitting room, Zoraster eased into a thickly padded chair and waited for Camilla to lead the smelly southerners in.

Meckataur's muzzle split into a wide grin as Arleen presented him with his spawn. The child looked human, large for a newborn, but absolutely human. Only the glint of intelligence and malevolence in the dark eyes of the child revealed his evil parentage.

That would end soon enough. The child would grow rapidly, provided the brood mare who had carried it survived long enough to nurse it for the required few days.

Arleen took the child to the crèche, which Meckataur soon hoped would hold many more of his spawn, and turned his eyes to Mopario, who prayed over the unconscious and mangled woman who had just delivered the child.

Mopario was high in his god's favor, and the wide splits torn in the woman's nether regions during the birth healed.

"Awaken her to nurse my spawn as soon as possible," Meckataur rumbled to the cleric of the war-god.

"It shall be so, Meckataur," Mopario replied.

A horrific scream split the air, filled with pain and anguish beyond imagining. Once more, Meckataur's horrible features twisted into a malevolent smile. It appeared his spawn were eager to escape the prison of their mother's wombs and see the light of the world they would rule.

The warm glow that infused Danica only a few hours later let her know the spell was hers. Danica already knew how she was going to test the use of the spell. She had been feeling a bit lazy and had not shaven in a couple of days. The necessary care required for that task would well test her control over the new magic.

Danica brought a washbasin and her razor to the bed, and then laid several towels over the coverings to protect them from the water. Stripping off her robes and panties, Danica lay down, clad only in her brassiere, and cleared her mind, preparing to cast the spell.

Danica chanted, making the necessary gestures of the spell and holding the small silver square that was the material component of the spell. It would be some time before she was proficient enough with the spell to eliminate the need for the physical focus of the spell. In the meantime, it was going to be expensive.

When the spell's power came into being, Danica closed her eyes and relaxed, letting her mind drift. It was indeed very similar to astral projection, and Danica soon viewed her body from an angle that few who were not on their way to the afterlife ever had the opportunity to see.

Instead of a ghostly apparition, she looked more like a faint outline. Holding her hand up in front of her face, Danica could see right through it. The image was somewhat distorted, as if she were looking through water, but everything beyond her hand was fully visible.

She first practiced controlling her physical body from her new vantage point, silently ordering it to raise one leg up high. Her body obeyed her, and oddly enough, Danica could feel faint hints of the muscles moving in her transparent body. It was a little disconcerting, but Danica got used to it as she continued to move her real body around, getting used to the way the magic worked.

Next, she tried the crucial part of the spell, manipulating physical objects with her transparent body. Danica found this no more difficult than manipulating her real body, easily picking up the razor and holding it, even twirling it between her fingers. The method was very similar to her telekinetic powers, except she had the focus of her hands as an additional reference point.

After a few minutes of practice, Danica ordered her physical body to bend one knee. She shaved the lower leg, finding that it was no more difficult than shaving someone else. Shortly after she started, Danica was able to relax and complete the task quickly. Even the delicate shaving around her folds proved to be easy. She also noticed, as she grew used to the spell, that she could detect the sensations from her real body. She could feel the razor sliding over her skin, and knew when it was threatening to bite into her.

When Danica finished, she put down the razor and ran her fingers over her physical body's smooth mound. A shudder passed through Danica's magical body as she felt her real body respond to the touch.

Curious after that sensation, Danica rubbed her fingers over her folds before her. A stronger shock of pleasure from that touch immediately rewarded her. Now very curious and quite aroused, Danica explored her body further. The pleasure she felt grew stronger as she teased her transparent fingers between her real lips.

The sensation was strong, and felt incredible, but there was a slight disconnect from the feeling. It was obvious her real body was responding to the touch, but she was able to concentrate on what she was doing.

Sliding her fingers deep into the wet sheathe of her own sex, Danica rubbed her swollen bud as well. Absently, she parted her physical legs, discovering that the more she used the spell, the easier it was to manipulate both of her forms simultaneously. Her pleasure mounted, and her clear fingers thrust faster with each passing moment.

Danica learned something new about the spell as she built toward release. The limits of the real world meant nothing to her magically assumed form. Her fingers elongated and thickened unconsciously as her real body demanded more. Danica was soon in a fog of pleasure, with just enough of a divorce from the feeling to maintain full control of what she was doing.

The spell ended suddenly when Danica came. The shock of her consciousness returning to her body was pale by comparison to the explosion of pleasure that rocked her body. Danica screamed, her juices erupting from her in a torrent. Haltingly, Danica regained control of her body to rub her clit and keep the orgasm going.

At last, Danica collapsed to the bed, panting for breath, and let out a little satisfied moan. A smile crossed her face and she chuckled. This little test certainly proved she could use the magic to scribe the runes on her skin, and she had little doubt that it would be easier the next time she tried the spell.

For now, however, her body was telling her that it was far from satisfied. Danica rolled over and retrieved one of her toys from the nightstand beside her bed to sate that need.

Danica packed a few things in preparation to leave for her apartment in Groenport, a little over one hundred miles to the Southeast on the shore of the Groen Sea. A scowl crossed her face momentarily as she thought about the circumstances surrounding her purchase of that apartment. She had actually wanted to have a place in Dalaria, but Zoraster had intervened and ordered her, in no uncertain terms, to stay out of the city. It lay on the border, and was apparently too close to the town of Destindale — where Danica had lived when her nightmare began — for Zoraster's liking. Danica had not even considered the proximity of Dalaria to the Protectorates of Armand, the land of her birth, when deciding to find an apartment there. She had simply liked the city, the people there, and the wealth of trade items available.

Groenport was close enough to the atmosphere she had liked in Dalaria, so long as she stayed away from the water. Nearly every seaside town had a distinctive odor near the docks, brought on by people tossing things in the sea and having them all return with the tides. The people of Groenport apparently were even less mindful of this than most that dwelt near the sea. The smell turned Danica's stomach, and so her apartment was as far from the ocean as possible, but still had a nice view of it from a distance.

Her destination was really irrelevant, because it was the stop in the Hellgate that mattered. Danica planned to begin scribing the runes on her skin immediately. She knew how it could be done now, and the amount of magic the runes would provide her, able to be activated with a thought, was a lure too strong to ignore.

Danica cast the spell and stepped into the Hellgate. Looking around, she saw none of the demons that inhabited the place, and nodded in satisfaction. It appeared that her chastisement of the creatures was starting to stick. Danica fell into a deep concentration, feeling the flow of the magic and turning to the task of manipulating the flow of time within the extra-dimensional pocket.

It proved ridiculously easy. The little pocket of space responded to her whims near instantly. Danica felt a little touch against her consciousness, suggesting that she could turn time backwards as well. The idea of having an eighteen-year-old body again was certainly appealing.

Danica shook her head and opened her eyes. That was the creatures that resided here trying to tempt her again, she realized. She had accomplished what she wanted to do, and weeks could now pass for her while outside only moments would tick by.

Danica immediately shed her clothing, absently conjuring up a bed on which to lie while she worked. Looking down at her body, she chuckled. The years had been kind to her, in truth. Just over thirty now, she wasn't sagging or growing wrinkly. Her breasts didn't ride quite as high as they had when she was a teen, but considering their size, they had endured the test of time quite well.

Danica's heart lurched when she heard a familiar voice behind her, "You look beautiful," it said.

Turning, Danica saw Darius and Jonathon standing behind her. They were nude, hard, and stunningly handsome. For a moment, she wanted nothing more than to drag them both into the bed with her, and then she remembered where she was.

Seething anger welled up inside Danica. The creatures invading her mind to assume the forms of the two men who had touched her heart enraged her. Danica was startled to find a sword in her hand as her anger built. When the weapon appeared, the landscape flickered momentarily from the beautiful glade, revealing a bleak expanse of sand and rock, devoid of life. The creatures also assumed their true forms. The scenery reverted to the familiar form, but the demons did not.

The creatures cringed and shrank away from the blade in Danica's hand, trembling violently. Danica raised the sword up to examine it. It was similar to a longsword, the blade polished to a mirror-like finish. Swirls and whorls decorated the entire blade and hilt, gold trimmed the crosspiece, and a large ruby decorated the pommel. The weapon was weightless in her hand, and in fact felt like an extension of her hand. Instinctively, Danica knew that it was an extension of her.

"Please mistress," one of the creatures hissed.

Danica brandished the sword toward them, "I don't ever want to see any of you again, unless I summon you. Is that clear?"

The creatures both replied, "Yes, Mistress!" The monsters then immediately vanished into the undergrowth.

As Danica's anger drained away, the sword faded and vanished as well. Danica nodded her head approvingly, and then turned toward the bed. She had come here for a reason, and it was time to get started.

Celes stood outside Danica's door, not even knowing why she was really there. She had determined almost immediately that Danica was not there, and that the wards on the room were active.

Celes sighed, glad in a way that Danica was not inside. She felt that whatever excuse she would have offered would have instantly rang untrue in Danica's ears. Celes simply longed to see Danica — longed for more — but she had to see her at least.

"Hello, Celes. Is Danica here?"

Celes turned to see Andrea walking toward her. "No, she's out and about somewhere. Her wards are up, and that means she's not here."

Andrea looked at Celes curiously, concentrating on the old woman's eyes. Andrea's eyes opened wider, a look of realization in her face. The note of longing in Celes' voice had been minor and carefully masked, but Andrea had caught it.