This is my first series. I plan for it to be a fantasy fiction story that includes fictional creatures like witches and trolls. There may be roots to sexual activities, and same-sex relations. None of it is real, only from my mind.
Set in a medieval world, abundant with magic and fictitious creatures, this story is about Marcus Mallow and his ascent through the dark outer world of his hidden human village of Rocky Pass.
If you are under-aged or lawfully restrained from reading this material, please leave. Thank you.
Finally, to understand the plot, read the previous chapters. They will explain what you need to know, if you need to know it.
Now to start the third chapter of the tale.
The Enchanter's Storybook: Chapter Three
Varia stood by the fire, silent and contemplating. She watched it with deep content, whispering the witchly spells to it and watching it boom ablaze whenever the magic breached or burned. She seemed to like the warmth pressing against her black leather, body-tight uniform of the Witches of Purgador. It made her feel somewhat heated, in such an outrageously cold world.
The foul troll Myrdok apprehensively trodded towards her, picking at an old wart behind his ear. It seemed to ooze a yellowy liquid that the troll eagerly wiped upon his tongue.
"Could you be any less foul, Myrdok? What do you want?" she asked pugnaciously, not removing her eyes from the dancing flames of the fire.
"Varia, it's those rotten prisoners of yours!" Myrdok announced, spitting into the firepit. "They're asking for you, Devil knows why."
"I do know why, yes," she answered, a vain smile pressing across her crimson lips. She laughed. Trolls had no humour. "They expect answers from me. I can sense their curiosity. You see, Myrdok, powerful creatures can do such things. And what can you do? Pick at warts and taste the puss pouring from it."
"What am I to do, then?" the troll spat, clenching his fists in anger. His hopes involved the use of his dagger.
"Nothing. I will speak to the boys. You will continue the spell, I trust you know the words?" she ordered, squinting her coal black eyes and raising a red eyebrow daringly.
The troll grunted in response, and began whispering the words. At once, Varia felt relief, the pressures of the spell lifting from her shoulders. She stood from the floor and wiped away the dust, provokatively strutting to the alcove where they remained prisoner. She pushed her fiery red hair over her shoulders and forced a smile joyful enough to fool the purest of souls. Sighing, the witch turned around a boulder and rested her eyes on her delightfully secretive prisoners.
Varia could sense something from Marcus almost instantly, the boy made it seem so easy for her to penetrate his mind. His friend, however, the fighter, was harder, but not impossible. And, yet, she felt a tingle in her fingers whenever she penetrated Marcus's mind and thoughts, whenever she touched him. But she just disregarded it.
Bending beside him, she folded across the floor and peered sardonically at the sight before her eyes.
Marcus snuggled up to Darius on the boulder to feel safe, after hearing the clacking of the witch's heels coming toward them. He had warned Darius not to speak to Myrdok the troll, but he had done any way. He was brave like that, it was one of the things Marcus admired about his friend. But that only brought the witch closer to them.
"Marcus, I understand you wish to see me?" Varia announced, her voice so tender and angelic.
His tongue tied in his throat. The witch scared him. Her smile did not fool him.
"Marcus, darling," she spoke, caressing his shoulders and giving him a warm smile. They both felt a tingle on their touch that grew stronger the longer they kept contact.
"He didn't wish to see you," said Darius bravely. "I did."
"Ah. The fighter. And why is that, then, Darren?" Varia replied, smiling.
"My name is Darius!"
"I do apologise, but Darren, Darius... all the same to me. Now, what is it, boys?" she asked, as warmly as she could.
"We want to know when you will be done with your task! What are you doing here, any way, witch?" Darius roared, standing from the floor and tensing avidly.
Varia regally raised herself, towering the boy mightily. Her face seemed irked. "Witch!" She gasped. "I will show you how much of a witch I can be! Myrdok! Take this one away, would you? Shove him somewhere, I can't tolerate his insults a moment longer." Varia seemed threatened, yet kept her regale composure. "But do not harm him. I keep my promises."
Darius plunged forward to bring the leathery witch to the ground, but before he could, the witch stepped out of his way in a swift second and Myrdok appeared before him. Humongous and strangely strong, the troll dragged Darius away after his face collided meekly with the hard and grey floor. A blood trail followed, but all that could be heard was the wallowing of Marcus Mallow.
"Marcus, do not fear me," she spoke, her smile dourly flawless. "I must speak with you alone."
Marcus felt alone. The walls no longer held dancing shadows, their spell was almost complete. Darius had been dragged away and he lay across the floor, terrified and alone. He wanted Darius beside him again, he needed someone to hold him. But he was... Alone.
"W-why?" he stuttered, hiding his face in the shadows. He wiped the tears from his light blue eyes and kept far from the witch as he could, cowering in the corner with his arms wrapped around his knees.
"I know your secret," she giggled.
"What secret?"
"Why, that you have fallen for the fighter, of course! What else?" The witch laughed dangerously loud, clapping her hands with indignant fury.
"How do you..." He couldn't finish the sentence, his throat closed shut and his tongue tied voraciously. He felt paralysed once more, but not by magic or spells. By fear, by embarrassment.
"Witches can do what they want. Now, Marcus, that's not important. You promised you'd be no trouble just three days past, our spell is near complete and we will be moving on quite soon. By nightfall, we shall move on. Nightfall, Marcus, then you will be free from me, I promise," she promised, before stroking his face. She held her hand there, and her curiosity of the tingling they both felt when they touched grew.
The tingling was weak at first, spreading down Varia's arm and across Marcus's face. It grew painful almost instantly.
Marcus cried harder. Her touch seethed against his skin, and his against hers. It was not her fault, but she could see the pain there. It seemed so unbearable. It was like her fingers were hot iron rods heated in an unholy pyre.
"Stop! Please!" he begged.
Varia snapped her hand away, looking at it oddly. It was cherry red, like his cheek. The pain was fiery and hot.
"Stop what? I have done no magic, I promise you. This is... why, Marcus... your darkness... contacting my darkness," Varia whispered, retreating. She sensed his darkness, his power. It was so powerful. Colliding with hers, their darkness could overpower armies. Suddenly, she backed behind the boulder so swift and silent, so solemnly struck dumb. Varia could feel his darkness. If the trolls found out, there would be no mercy for either of them.
Marcus sighed at her departure, but the tears still fell from his eyes copiously. Her words were nothing to him, he disregarded them instantly. She was evil in his eyes, she hurt Darius. Not only that, she knew. She knew! How on earth could she, Marcus asked himself. He hadn't even discovered his feelings for Darius yet, and somehow, she knew. It dawned on his grevious soul that it was an unordinary attachement he had to Darius, a strange attachement.
He wept to the darkness what seemed like such a long time, thinking, brooding. He remembered that day, three days past. He had told Darius something, and his reaction wasn't as expected. Marcus assumed he would say it back, or react in an angered way, but he didn't speak at all. Not for a day, and even then he seemed to have scoured the memory from his mind. They never spoke of it again.
It wasn't before long that his thoughts wandered, and the darkness devoured him. It surrounded him, a blackness that would not end. There wasn't a flicker of light anywhere, just empty blackness. Then a voice echoed, a soothing and sensual voice. It echoed again. The words were incomprehensible, yet Marcus knew it was Varia.
"Run, Marcus. Escape. Mutiny will take my life this night, but it will buy you time, it will save yours."
He tried to see her, but she was not there. There was only blackness.
"What?" he called out. "Why?!"
"Your darkness, that's why. Heed my words, Marcus. The trolls will spill my blood this night, and if they sense your darkness, as I did when we touched, yours will spill too. Wake! Wake! Go now!"
A third time, the voice echoed.
"Wake! Wake! Wake!" It stirred in his mind and drew him forth, forcing the firelight across his face in an instant. Amber and crimson blasted his face in dead urgency
"Oh, I'll kill you, witch!" the giant troll bellowed. Marcus searched with his eyes, but found no Myrdok nearby. It was his voice. The sounds rumbled through the caves.
"Like you could harm me, pathetic troll!" Varia's voice replied, from very far off and deep in the caves.
"Not alone, he can't, but together, we can," Kryt's voice joined. "The spell is done; we don't need you any more, Varia, and I'd very much like to kill you."
"Kill me, and my sisters in Purgador will seek vengeance!"
"The Witches of Purgador are slow. By the time they get here we'll be long gone, and you'll be beyond resurrection," Kryt whistled.
Mutiny... the trolls will turn... blood will spill. The events were playing out before him. The trolls were about to take Varia's life, and she knew it would happen. Marcus did not know what darkness she spoke of in his dream, but he knew this chance was all he had.
Marcus stood from the rocky floor and creeped to the corner. Peaking around, he saw a large den with a firepit that had long died out. The witch and the trolls were nowhere to be seen. Marcus took this as his only chance, and scurried about the dragon's den for Darius.
The black-haired boy was slumped into a far corner, unconscious. Marcus glowed down on him, looking at his closed eyes and his soft lips. He wanted to kiss Darius, like he had seen the elders do, but he stopped. He knelt over him and shook his body wildly, until the perfect boy's eyes fluttered open and he smiled.
"Shh!" Marcus started, "the witch and the trolls are arguing - we can escape," he whispered, helping Darius to his feet. The boy seemed weak, his hair stained in sticky blood, so Marcus decided not to speak of whatever darkness he had or how Varia had saved them both.
The sounds began again, alerting the boys profoundly.
Somewhere, deep in the tunnels, an attack ensued. Spells were cast, swords and knives were drawn, leather was torn, and blood was spilled. The raucous ended with the awful laughter of Myrdok, the screeching cackle of Kryt, and the death of true darkness in the Pass.
The two boys hurried passed the firepit and ran as fast as their legs could go. They turned down tunnels left and right, came to dead ends and found no escape. Darius lead the way, as usual, with Marcus trailing behind.
"Escape" he heard. It was Varia. Her voice was whispering in his mind. He stopped, and turned, forgetting Darius entirely.
He followed the voice. He guessed it grew louder the closer he got to her, but they were only mental whispers. He turned down tunnels and crept through passages, until finally, he heard the trolls. He wanted answers from her, hopefully before she died.
"She's dead," Kryt laughed.
"The humans!" Myrdok sounded, suddenly weary. "The black-haired boy... I marked him, he has escaped!"
Marcus waited for their voices to disappear, for their footsteps to fade, before he ran into the other den. It was dark, but he could see her black leather, her red hair.
"Varia," he whispered, crouching over her body. Blood surrounded her, and poured from her open throat.
Her black eyes flashed open. "Marcus? You... you should have escaped!"
"What is my darkness?" he asked, so curious, driven by curiosity.
"It's... it's... power. Magic. Purity."
"Will you die?" he asked, looking into the gash across her slit throat. This woman, witch or not, tried to save him in the end, even if she took him prisoner, and he couldn't find a way to be thankful.
"Yes... my death was inevitable if you were to escape," she stuttered, blood on her lips, leaking from her mouth.
Marcus felt tears form in his eyes, cascade down his face and drop away. She had sacrificed herself so he could escape, and why? Because of a tingling feeling whenever they touched.
"Go. Escape, dark boy. I kept my promise, in the end..."
"I'm sorry," he said, stricken with a sudden sadness.
His hand touched her beautiful face, he traced them through her red hair and across her closed eyelids. His fingers tingled like pins and needles and Varia cried out in pain. His darkness had hurt her. He withdrew his hand, feeling rather weak and drained.
"Go!"
Varia tried to say more, she knew so much. If only fate wasn't so cruel and unforgiving, she could have told him. Her secrets would die with her. He would never know how powerful and dark he truly was; he would never know his immense potential. Together, Varia and Marcus could have crushed and risen civilizations and armies, obliterated empires and found riches beyond imagining. They held ungodly darkness together. They could have done so much. But fate was too cruel.
The witch held a hand out to the boy, and he took it morosely. In an instant, his world grew black, and Varia exhausted the last of her strength trying to take him from the caves. It only took him half way.
He was in a tunnel, far from her dying body. He heard footsteps behind him, coming closer the faster he ran. He felt a sudden wave of weakness, like the strength had been drained or cried out of him, but he forced himself to continue forward. He sprinted down, further and further into the darkness. Just before hope had died, a light billowed near the end of the tunnel. Darius was only a few feet ahead of him, like he had never detoured to hear Varia's dying words. He ran to him, still weak and sleepy, and grabbed his hand. That seemed to strengthen the little boy. They held hands and ran toward the light. They ran, and ran, and ran.
Then they were outside, looking down on the Pass with the wind gushing harshly. Marcus hurried down the ancient stone steps of Mount Skull, enjoying his freedom. Darius was behind, taking a step down the encircling stairwell.
He halted.
Marcus turned on his heel, looking up at him. His hand covered his eyes as the midday sun beamed incandescently down from the heavens. He could tell something was wrong.
"Darius, come on," he urged.
Looking up at the midday blue sky, Darius sighed. His black hair blew across his face from the wind, and a knife pressed against his back.
"I don't think so," Kryt said cynically, standing from behind Darius and wrapping her dagger to his throat.
"Go, Marcus," Darius screamed, hardly breathing.
"Walk another step and we'll do to you what we just did to poor Varia," Kryt warned.
"Get up, or he dies, you're coming with us!" Myrdok roared, towering over the sun and casting an unending shadow.
The trolls took the boys back into the darkness and paralysed them once again. Myrdok dragged their still bodies into a rusty metal cage they had somehow fashioned from thin air, and barred them inside. The cage shook and shivered as it was pulled down Mount Skull, but the boys were not harmed. The trolls pulled it far from the Pass, deep into an enchanting forest. Rocky Pass had long disappeared; they had been taken into the realms of sorcery, and were defenseless against their opponents.
But somewhere, deep in the dragon dens, the weeping strength of a dark little boy's touch impregnated a black leathered body with fiery red hair. Alone, the black eyes of Varia had clasped shut forever, only to flash open as an icy grey.