MAGE 14 By "Heck" CHAPTER FOURTEEN THE DENSE WOODLAND gave way to scrubby thicket, and before long Brenhya and Oudreya found themselves standing on the edge of a manicured lawn surrounding an unimpressive box-like cottage. Her warrior's instincts tingling, Brenhya motioned to the tigress, who obediently faded back into the undergrowth, out of sight. "He probably knows we're both here", she whispered. "But there's no sense in presenting him with two targets at once". Now Brenhya was a formidable and consummate warrior, and there was nothing she had come across in her life so far that had caused her real fear. However, she knew herself very well and was by no means stupid. She had to admit to herself that the old tales of the Great Wizards and their power, coupled with the fact that she was shortly to meet someone who eschewed to be one, arose in her feelings of, not fear, exactly, but certainly apprehension. So it was with more bravado than she actually felt that Brenhya stepped out into the middle of the lawn, stopping in front of the central flowerbed. She had decided that a direct approach was best, knowing as she did that the wizard was expecting her, so she took her broadsword from its scabbard at her side. The heavy blade with its wicked serrated edge was perfectly balanced, and she handled its considerable weight with ease. She placed the point gently on the grass and leant her interlaced hands on the leather-bound pommel, staring defiantly at the house. "Well, come on, then!", she called. "I'm here. What are you waiting for?" With almost startling suddenness, nothing happened. She stared at the house, all her senses alert, for five full minutes. Like a storm building to a crescendo, nothing continued to happen. And it went on not happening for what seemed like an age. I see what you're doing, Brenhya thought. You think you can intimidate me by keeping me hanging about. Trying to make me feel insignificant by making it look like I'm not important enough to notice. Well, I'm on to you, mister. Two can play that game. Very slowly and deliberately, she picked up her broadsword and laid the heavy blade casually over one splendid shoulder. She pointedly turned her back on the house, and sauntered across the lawn, hips swinging, to the gate in the low fence. She stepped through, and out of sight of the building, where she sat down with her back against a tree, leaning her forearms on her raised knees. Closing her eyes, she let her head fall forward and appeared to go into a doze. A low growl, only just audible, came from the scrub nearby. Brenhya made no move, but spoke very quietly to the were-tigress. "It's OK", she reassured. "Keep out of sight. We're just playing a waiting game, for the minute. Eventually, I'll raise enough of a diversion to keep Chaithe busy, so you can make your move. Can you get into the pack, if you need to eat in the meantime?" Oudreya gave a tiny huff, her way of saying 'yes' in this form. Brenhya settled down to wait. And wait. Chaithe kept her waiting for nearly an hour, before he conceded to her patience. At his bidding, the kobold Quaff went to fetch her. He shuffled across the lawn and through the gate, where he was met by the wicked point of Brenhya's sword at his throat. "What are you?" She looked him up and down, never having seen such a creature before. The small hunched figure raised his hands to his chest. "This one is Quaff", he croaked, completely unconcerned by the blade. "Quaff is a kobold, one of the last of his kind, and servant to Master Chaithe. Quaff means no harm. The Master bids you come into the house". Heedless of the weapon, he wiped the dewdrop from the tip of his nose, and lurched back to the house. Giving a half-shrug, Brenhya sheathed her sword [but kept her hand on the hilt] and followed. The door, when they reached it, was singularly unimpressive. Brenhya could not suppress a feeling of disappointment. She had half expected a soaring tower with high crenellations, gargoyles, and flying buttresses, and this unassuming cottage was a bit of a letdown. Quaff pushed open the portal and stepped aside to let her enter. She thought it must be a trick of perspective when she viewed the seemingly impossibly long corridor that stretched out before her. Her footsteps echoed in the passageway as she walked up to another door that Quaff held open for her. "Quaff will bring tea", the servant said as she passed through. You can bring it, she thought. But Goddess knows, I won't drink it. She shook her head and rubbed her eyes in disbelief. The room she had entered was bigger than the whole of the ground floor of the cottage had seemed from the outside. Her mouth set in a grim line. Now this is impressive ...even more than a tower. Mustn't let him see, though. She strolled across the plush carpet, past an unfeasibly long table, to stand apparently relaxed with her back to a corner. Quaff reappeared after a moment, bearing a tray with a steaming kettle and a cup. It seemed to take him forever to shuffle the length of the room, place the tray on the table, and shuffle back again. "Quaff!", Brenhya called as her reached the door. He sniffed, turned, and began to shuffle back to her. "It's OK. Don't bother to come back. Just tell me. Is your Master as accomplished a wizard as he purports to be?" The expression on the kobold's lumpen face told her the answer before he spoke. He did not know, nor did he care. "Quaff does not know, Miss. The Master's business is his own. Quaff only does what he is told". "Does he have you enthralled. Are you a slave", she explained, reacting to the puzzlement at the term 'enthralled'. "No, Miss. Quaff is a servant". "Has he got you under some kind of spell?" Quaff squirmed uncomfortably. All this talking was making him uneasy. "Is he using his magicks on you?", Brenhya persisted. "Quaff does not know. Quaff is a servant. If that will be all..?" He turned to leave. "Just one more thing". Quaff sighed resignedly at the sound of yet another question. In as much as he was capable of independent thought, he wondered how much talking this woman wanted him to do. His race was stoic, loyal, and hard working, but were not known for their conversation. "Lon. Where is Lon?" Her question was met with a blank look. "Young fellow. Tall. A bit wet-looking. Where is he?" A dim light of recognition showed in the little man's eyes. "The young Master is with the Master". Brenhya sighed. This was like drawing teeth. "And the master is ...where?" "In his laboratory". "Ah. Now we're getting somewhere. And where is the laboratory". Quaff looked puzzled at the idea that anyone should ask such a question. "In the house" "Aegh!" Brenhya momentarily allowed her frustration to show in her exclamation. She spoke very slowly and clearly. "Where ...abouts ...in ...the ...house?" "Quaff does not know". "What? You must know! You serve him when he's in there, don't you?" "Yes" His discomfiture was almost palpable, now. "Then where the hells is it?" "Quaff does not know". It was fortunate that Brenhya was very patient with those less mentally agile than herself. She took a deep breath. "Why does Quaff not know?" "Because it is not always in the same place". He shifted from one foot to the other. "Can Quaff go, now?" Disgusted, not at the kobold but at the deviousness of the wizard, Brenhya made a dismissive gesture with one hand, and watched as the servant lurched from the room as fast as his short legs would carry him. Once again, she settled down to wait, standing in the relaxed but alert way typical of the woman. She was not kept long. With an abruptness that was almost alarming, Chaithe was there. Right in front of her. In his own persona. Her hand flew to her sword. "You may unsheathe your weapon, my dear". His voice was deep and resonant, not at all like the dithery old man she had met on the wharf so many months ago. "But it'll do you no good, what?" Defiantly, she pulled the broadsword from its scabbard. It hung limply from her hand like the strip of leather it had become. Irritated, she flung it aside. "Told you, eh? Weapons are useless in this house, doncher know?" "Chaithe?" "Yes, of course. A little different from the old dodderer you met, what?" Her strong hand shot out and caught him by the velvet robe in an unbreakable grip. He looked completely unconcerned. "You have a lot of explaining to do". Brenhya spoke in a quiet but commanding voice. "Like what you've been up to, for a start. Why have you been testing me?" "That will all become clear in, what shall I say, the fullness of time, eh?" "You seem to have overlooked something. I have you, and you know I could tear your head right off if I wanted". "You could, you could. If I were here". Chaithe vanished. No puff of smoke. No flash of light. He was simply not there, and left Brenhya feeling slightly silly. "Right", she said, looking down at her floppy, useless sword lying on the floor. "So I've got to come looking, have I". Using just the tips of her fingers, she reached inside the brass wristguard about her left forearm. She had a strong notion of what she would find, and was therefore not surprised when the hilt of her elegant little stiletto, like that of her sword, turned out to be attached to a useless strip of leather. She flung it aside with a little 'tut' of impatience. Her pauldron, she judged, as she removed the armour from her shoulders, would do her little good against magic. Neither would the brass wristguards that she laid on the table beside it. Now dressed only in her stout sandals, soft leather halter, and short skirt, she probed her golden skin with her fingertips, checking the condition of the muscle beneath. She rolled her smooth, wide shoulders, rippling the trapezoids and deltoids, and flexed her pectorals so that the hard slabs of muscle made her magnificent breasts bounce. She turned her arms this way and that, causing the corded muscles of her forearms to coil, and cocked her elbows, raising twin mounds of steely biceps, each as big as and harder than a big man's fist. In turn, she lifted each ramrod straight leg out in front. The great, curving muscles of her forward thighs bunched, transforming her legs into rods of iron. She rebounded her fists against the flat planes of her solid belly, and was rewarded by a solid, slightly hollow drumming sound. Her hands explored the double column of muscle that supported her back, and found a pair of vertical cables as strong as any wound steel hawsers. Bending backwards until her hands touched the floor behind and her body formed a graceful arch, Brenhya brought her legs slowly up to point straight up to the ceiling. Holding her position, she bent her elbows and performed a series of slow, vertical push-ups, before letting her legs down to complete a controlled slow-motion back flip. Brenhya gave a small grunt of satisfaction as she came to her feet, pleased with the battle-ready condition of her body. She crossed to the door, and stepped cautiously into the corridor. The walls stretched away into the distance, lined by anonymous doors on either side. They were close together, no more than two feet apart, but as she flung them open she found to her amazement that each hid a room at least as large as the reception room she had just been in. None held any revelation as to the whereabouts of her quarry. "Where would I put a laboratory?" To one side of the corridor, an ornate staircase led to the floor above. All her senses alert, Brenhya climbed the stairs to another door at the top. Pushing it slowly open, she let just her eyes peer round the jamb. "More corridors!" It was true. Vanishing away to right, left, and ahead, three long corridors, lined by even more doors and each intersected with even more passageways, were laid out before her. This has to be an illusion, she thought. She stepped through the door, checking to make sure she was alone. She stood with her back against a wall, and pressed her hands together in front of her, forcing the air completely from her lungs before sucking in a deep, cleansing breath. Then she closed her eyes and held her breath, handing over her perceptions to her other senses. She stood absolutely still, straining her ears to their maximum. Total silence reigned. For several minutes, she stood stock still, just listening. There! Right on the edge of hearing, a tiny noise. A little cough, or the clearing of a throat. Like a bat, she zeroed in on the sound, pinpointing its source with almost uncanny accuracy. She knew which corridor and, with a fair degree of surety, she knew which door. Brenhya stalked down the corridor, coming to a halt outside one door. She was certain the noise had come from behind this portal, or one close to it, and laid her ear against the wood. There it was again! The tiniest of coughs, as if suppressed behind someone's guarding hand. The warrior took a step back, and focussed on the centre of the door. With the power of a lightning strike, her incredibly powerful leg flashed out, slamming into the door with a loud boom. The ancient wood, blackened and hardened by age, split neatly through the middle, one half collapsing into the room while the other hung drunkenly on its twisted and tortured hinges. Brenhya was through the opening in a flash, crouching in a battle- ready stance. Prepared for anything. "Ah, here she is, at last". The voice of Drosklyn Chaithe echoed in the cavernous room. Brenhya picked out his figure at the far side, half hidden in the shadows. This was definitely the laboratory. Benches stood along three walls, strewn with vessels and glassware, amulets and potions. In the centre of the floor, surrounded by painted symbols and with a black candle burning in each of its points, a five-armed star was inlaid into the planking. "There you are, Lad. Told you she wouldn't be long, eh? What?" Brenhya followed his gaze. Against the un-benched wall, a large iron cage was bolted to the brickwork. Cowering in the far corner, making himself as small as possible, Lon sat with his hands over his head. The reason for this paced back and forth along the front of the enclosure, her sabre-like fangs showing and striped fur bristling. "Lon? Oudreya?" Brenhya trotted over, to lean against the bars. At the sound of her voice, Oudreya stopped pacing and her lips curled back in a silent snarl. She came and rubbed her head against the bars where Brenhya stood. Lon peered out through the spaces between his fingers. "Brenhya?", he whispered. "Is that you?" "Yes it is. Lon, don't worry. Everything's going to be OK". "That's all right for you to say". His voice was a tiny squeak. "There's a bloody great tiger in here with me!" "That's OK. Don't be frightened. The tigress is a friend of mine". She reached through to scratch the big cat between the ears, eliciting a deep purr. "Her name's Oudreya, and she won't hurt you. Will you, beautiful?" The tigress looked up at her with half-closed eyes. Assuming she gets fed soon, Brenhya thought. Aloud, she said, "Just get up slowly, and walk over to me". He did so, and Brenhya spoke to the were-tiger. "Oudreya, you probably guessed this is Lon, one of the reasons we're here. Be nice to him. He's very special to me, so we've got to look after him. Lon, come and stroke her. She won't bite, and she can understand everything you say". Lon stepped nervously close to the animal, reaching out a tentative hand. On the first attempt he jerked his hand back as if stung, just lightly touching the brindled fur, before becoming more bold and smoothing his hand over the soft shoulder fur. "Hey!", he smiled. "This is not so bad". Then he flattened himself against the bars as the tigress wheeled to face him. "Erm... Brenhya?" He cringed visibly as she rubbed her broad head against his thighs. "It's OK. Just stand still. She needs to get to know you, and the smell of you". Lon laughed nervously. "As long as it's not the taste of me, ay? Oh!" He whipped his hand away as the tigress licked it with her rough tongue. The sound of slow handclapping came from across the room. "Oh, how touching". Chaithe's voice dripped with sarcasm. "A perfectly lovely reunion, what? But no time, no time for all that. In case you've forgotten, this is my party, eh? I brought you all together for my purposes, doncher know, not so you could schmaltz each other. The were-tiger is an unexpected bonus, I must admit". "Were-tiger?", Lon hissed to Brenhya behind his hand. She ignored him, her full attention on the wizard. "So", she said, advancing towards Chaithe. "Just why have you brought us here? Short of company?" "She walks so casually", Chaithe commented as if to himself. "As if she wouldn't rip one's arms off, given half a chance. Heh heh! Why have I brought you here? Why, you and the boy are going to get your heart's desire. Well, he is, anyway, what?" Brenhya did not let the confusion she felt show in her face. "Explain", she said, shortly. "Of course". The Wizard sounded perfectly sane and reasonable. "The rites to summon the power of Shaitan involve the use of two elements. A perfect human, and you are close enough for that, and one who has been granted his dearest wish. Although, one should always be careful as to what one wishes for, doncher know? It may not be what you thought, what?" "And what if we refuse". Chaithe laughed openly at the prospect. "My, my! Such an indomitable spirit! I almost admire you for it. But please, feel free to refuse as much as you want. It'll do you no good, you know". It appeared that Chaithe had been so wrapped up in his oratory that he had not noticed Brenhya edging ever closer to him. She launched herself explosively across the space between them. And was met by the rubber sheet effect of yet another psychic barrier. She rebounded from it, and sprawled on her back on the floor, rolling into the star and scattering a few of the black candles. Their flames went out, and they rolled across the room. One found its way under one of the benches. "Tut, tut". Chaithe shook his head in mild annoyance. "Look at that. I shall have to redo the whole thing, now. It really is too much. Dear, dear. We'll have to get you out of the way for a while". He made a complicated gesture with his right hand. Brenhya felt herself being engulfed in a swirling whirlpool of colours. She felt as if she was floating, tumbling through a maelstrom of light, and almost cried out as control was taken from her in a wrench of violation as traumatic as a rape. Breasts heaving and head spinning, she found herself lying trembling on a stone flagged floor. Her hair awry, covering her face so she could not immediately see her surroundings, she was aware of a presence at her side. She swiped her hair from her face, to find Lon lying on his back with his mouth and eyes wide. Still dizzy, she clambered to her feet. "Lon?" Her dulcet voice was full of care. "Lon, are you OK?" She moved to his side, crouching to cup his head in her strong hand. "Brenhya?" The young man's voice was shaky but strong. He sat up. "What happened? Where are we?" "I don't know". She cast her eyes over the space around them. They were in what appeared to be a vast cave, with stalactites suspended from the ceiling, but the floor appeared to be perfectly flat and covered with flag stones which fitted together with such precision they must have been laid by a master mason. She helped Lon to his feet in the echoing chamber. "Gods!" Lon sighed. "I never saw this place before". "Do you know how we got here? Are we still on the island?" "I don't know", the young apprentice sighed. "I just don't know" "You are here", Chaithe's voice rang out, "because I want you to be here. I can't allow you to cause any more damage in the laboratory, eh? So we will proceed with the first part of the rite right here. Oh, I say! 'Rite right here'. That's rather good, what?" It took the captives a few seconds to locate Chaithe in the huge, shadowy cavern. He stood in an alcove no more than ten or twelve feet away. Her warrior's reflexes launched Brenhya across the space in an instant. She almost made it, too. She was within arm's reach, when an occult word from Chaithe stopped her in her tracks. "No time for all that nonsense". Chaithe's bearded face was wreathed with a huge grin. "It's time young Lon had his heart's desire". He made a gesture and spoke some more arcane phrases. "My heart's desire? What are you talking about? Brenhya. Why didn't you get him? Put him down, quickly, before he brings the daemon to life!" "All this time, and he still doesn't get it". Chaithe appeared to be talking to himself. "I'm not going to bring Lord Shaitan here, you young fool! Do you think I'm stupid? Eh? And, he's not a daemon. He is one of the Lords of the underworld, and I mean to harness his power, not unleash him, what? Now, prepare yourself for your greatest wish! I truly hope you survive it." "Brenhya!" There was high anxiety in Lon's voice, now. "Why don't you get him? Why don't you ...Brenhya?" He gazed at the broad back of the warrior woman. There was a peculiar set to her shoulders, that he had not seen before, and a sudden wildness to her unruly mane of hair. She turned slowly to face him, and his mouth dropped open as he gazed on the lovely face he knew so well and yet, now, seemed almost unrecognisable. A thin trickle of drool hung like string from the corner of her mouth, which was stretched wide in a fierce, animal grin, and a weird, satanic light burned in her vivid green eyes. Her cheeks were flushed, and she breathed noisily through her closed teeth. Lon backed away as she slowly advanced toward him. "Brenhya?" For the first time ever in her presence, Lon knew real terror.