Princil's Magic : Chapter 3 : Aribor's Search

Princil’s Magic : Chapter 3 : Aribor’s Search
Part 1

Chanceleord went to the Council Hall of Cromilil to gather with whoever, amongst the leading councillors officers and merchants of the city, was brave enough to take leadership for a city which seemed doomed to whatever fate Guthelm of Grumandor or Charlerion of Pelancir had in store for it. They knew not who the leader of this fleet was. Only that the fleet was huge and covered the whole horizon of the sea, the harbour and the river.

The wizard Aribor had been with Valdark in the service of Guthelm of Grumandor as the ships entered the harbour. He came looking for certain persons on the general orders of Valdark; the offspring of the various leaders of the subjugated city. The House of Chanceleord was hereabouts. He had it on the maps the invaders’ spies had created before the attack. There had been no need to bring prisoners to locate the place. And yet, now that he was here there was no sign of the place. Aribor walked up the street where the House should be, but there was just a wall where he might have expected. Damn those spies, he swore under his breath, they did not perform their tasks correctly. The place must be around here nonetheless. If he could not find the place he would have to go to the greater effort of requisitioning some locals to find it for him. He walked up the road again past the position on the map and again reached the junction of roads before he expected. “Damned inaccuracy,” he swore, loudly this time.

Aribor, sorcerer of Grumandor spoke through the psychic space, into the building, “I know you have one of great beauty within these walls. I have seen her!” He had cast a spell of search and it had sensed great beauty emanating from those walls. He knew its direction, but when he traversed the place could find no entrance. There was a wall and the beauty lay behind, but there was no entry point. Could she be a prisoner there, walled in by the merchants who ruled here? It seemed unlikely. The merchants did not take or keep prisoners unless they had committed great crimes. He tried to see closely with his mind; a tantalising flash of jet black hair, strong piercing dark eyes and a smooth perfect nose. He could not see all, but was caught in the web of her beauty.

Usually he could see inside any house or construction, seeking out whatever he desired. He searched out and found the souls of Guthelm’s enemies. If his Lord wanted to find a local resister or a rebel he could search for such a soul. Such souls were usually passionate, thriving, angry. When he took the right potions and sent himself through the buildings of villages or towns he could sense such souls. They screamed out at him, demanding attention, shouting their rage. Quiet souls, at peace, could avoid his search. He would come with his Lord’s retainers to arrest these men, for questioning or destruction, or to be used to make stronger magics still.

Aribor was not under direct orders at this moment. Sorcerors of Grumandor, and some of Pelancir, ranged the city with their men. He was one of many. The city folk would be dealt with according to their hearts or the master’s direction. They were all at his master’s mercy, and already it was evident there would be no real resistance.
Aribor felt able to enjoy the sack of the city in his own way. He always enjoyed this time, when a city or territory crumbled into Guthelm’s hands. He served his lord well, doing his bidding most of the time, but there were times, such as these when he could afford to follow his own interests. He liked to go out on his own among the vanquished, searching for virgins, harlots or men’s wives, seeking their beauty, their naked essence. It had been a long time since he had attracted a woman by his youth and manliness. He had long since stopped trying. He might sometimes be able to entice the women of his own camp, but these were the ugliest or the desperate crones, and unless he was feeling a strong need for relief they did not, or could not satisfy him. He looked for and aspired for more. Among the conquered women, like the rest of the Grumandorians, he took his fill or his share. But he searched for the most exquisite beauty wherever he could find it or sense it. He knew there was great beauty in this strange building with no door.

Aribor walked around the area where his soul sense was strong, until he could appreciate the boundaries wherein she, the beauty, resided. She, whoever she was, was just the woman he desired, but he could not see her face clearly. Somewhere within she was, but why were there no entry points, and when he tried to look closely at the buildings his gaze was easily shifted to left or to right.

She, the woman of his desire, was hazy, as if in a gathered mist. Even if he saw her in the streets of the city he would not know who she was unless his search were with magic. He had not been a wizard for 25 years without knowing there was magic present here. A building or set of buildings was here protected. He guessed that probably the mage who constructed the protection sought to hide himself and his family from the conquerors.

Aribor was more concerned with the woman within. There was one female there who possessed the special beauty he required. The protector’s reasons for protecting this place were of little importance to him now. If certain individuals of this city were spared the inquisitions of Guthelm’s lieutenants why should he care. The city was taken. Its citizens would be like cattle soon, ready for slaughter or husbandry at the whim of the new rulers, captains, knights and ordinary soldiers, even the goblins and trolls who accompanied them. He had more important concerns on his mind! He would try to communicate with this protector. Maybe he could offer help to them in return for access to the beauty.

Aribor tapped the physical walls with the stick of his whip, and used his mind to test the walls of magic. After some investigation he determined a strong mind presence within, not the beauty, but the one who must be the protector. He would be able to announce himself to that mind.

“I am a wizard of the horde of Grumandor. I see you are hidden from prying eyes, protected from all but the most determined of wizards. I have detected a woman of great beauty within your walls. She is youthful, dark of hair and eyes, slender of body and nose. She is most beautiful and I wish to cherish her. I wish to make a bargain with you. I can bring other wizards of Grumandor upon you. We could bring our magic to bear upon you. We can evaporate or crush, turn your magic around, throw bolts at you, or lay spells to close or keep you in, suffocating the air from you.”

The wizard Aribor was no fool. He knew most of his conquests did not come to him out of lust for his body or love for his soul. He had usually to resort to other persuasions to entice women. At a time of conquest he would attempt to go among the conquered to find the beauty he craved. He always made a ‘contract’ with them. That was the way to ensure the fulfilment of his desires and needs. He had the power of wizardry and the force of his own arms, backed by the support of other soldiers of Guthelm’s army, if they were nearby. If a woman or the people who protected her knew his position and abilities he found he could always make a contract with them.

Once Aribor had found a woman hiding in the cellar of a house. She was sufficiently lovely for him to desire greatly. She was sheltered by a brother who stood willing to fight him, and there were two younger children there too. He had negotiated with the woman to save her children from the destruction which was going on around them, which would have visited upon them if he would not vouch for them. He also offered to save the brother by avoiding the fight which would have surely killed him, and pledging not to turn him in to Guthelm’s soldiers. The brother wanted to fight when he heard the wizard’s terms, but the wizard made clear his powers and the inevitable fate of the brother and the children.

“I will take your sister either way, and you will be dead on the steps of this cellar, and your nephew and niece taken to Guthelm’s own cellars where dark magic is extracted from the souls and bodies of young ones such as these.”

The woman had intervened. “What do you want? Is there any way you can save us? Have mercy please.”

He had said, “My mercy is but a contract. You can enter a contract if you and your brother agree, which will save your young ones and your brother from destruction. It will also save you from the uncertainties of conquest. I do not like to kill women, especially not a beauty like yourself. After killing your brother I would forge another contract with you, one in which you would have less to bargain with. Your protector would already be dead. You would give yourself willingly to me, or if you were unwilling I would force myself upon you. So it might be the same in the end, but less pleasant for yourself and for me.”

“How can you save us?” asked the woman. The wizard could see she had taken in the import of his words and was considering her options.

“I can place my mark over this building. It will be recognised in Guthelm’s army, that I have been here and the house need not be searched any further.”

“And what of me?” asked the pale woman.

“You will come with me. You must please me, be kind and make love, as you would to your own husband. When I have had sufficient pleasure of you, on one or maybe 5 or 10 or more occasions – when I decide I have had enough of you you can go. You may eventually return to your family if you can find them, or you may have opportunities to serve others in Guthelm’s army. You will find service I assure you.”

“Can I confer with my brother?” she asked. She was evidently still scared, shaking with the horror of what could befall her children, her brother and herself; fearful of the prospect this self assured black gowned man offered. She could not decide if he was to be trusted. She knew she had little choice but to trust him. She had heard the horses fly past a short while before, heard the screams of the menfolk of the village as they fought and died. Her brother had taken refuge down the stairs. This wizard was with the barbaric army of Grumandor, who had the most fearsome reputation in the whole of Animar. If he really was a wizard, and he did look like such, in his black gown, then he truly was to be feared. His long greased hair and greying moustache marked him as a barbarian, probably of the horde of Grumandor. His belly, she fancied, was bloated, but he was a strong looking man who could most likely do great damage with his sword as well as his wizardry.

“I will give you some minutes to see my sense and to determine your fates,” said Aribor. “I think I know what your answer will be!”

The woman had conferred with her brother. He was torn between fighting for the honour of his people and his sister, and the desire to preserve his own life and hers, and his nephew and his niece, so new to the world. The brother had still been in the grip of his anger and might well have taken the foolish option, but the woman had heard his words and understood the lesser of two evils. “We have no choice,” she said. “My honour is lost either way. We must save my children, and you must live to protect them. I will attempt to return to you when he has finished with me. He may not let me go. I do not trust his word. But what alternative do we have!”

The wizard continued his present conversation with the protector of the beauty within the closed walls which stood before him. “I can see you have a building here, but it is hidden from all who might gaze in its direction. I know you have one in here who is of almost perfect beauty! I can sense her presence here. If it were not for the intensity of her beauty and the strength of my search I would not have found her – or you. Your magic is strong. I guess it comes from some strong tortures or emotional activity. Strong and pure!

“You know I am Aribor, a wizard of Grumandor’s army. I have found you and can force you out or squeeze your magic. I can also bring allies to assist me. But I wish to offer you something more suitable to us both. The battle for the city is won. There may be pockets of resistance, but you are not a land of Knights or War Captains. Your arts are punier than ours. There is little for us to fight over here. We are taking what we want. I see you want your protection and have constructed it painstakingly. I do not know yet how many you are, or who you all are. I do not necessarily need to know, as long as we can come to an agreement which gives me what I need. If you give me what I want I will leave you with your protection, and I will bring none of Guthelm’s army to force entry to your preserve.”

“What do you want?,” Princil sent his message through the path the intruder had created in his defences.

“I want the beauty you have there.”
Princil thought to himself, ‘which beauty does this voice refer to?’ All of the females of the family were beautiful. After all he had used most of them just now in the erection of this magic. Could this chill intruder be referring to Ishtral, the beauteous firstmother of the household, or to his own mother the lovely Serena, to Remzain, the sister to whom he felt so akin, or to the daughters of Ishtral, Samatha or Felyst, both lovely like their mother?

As if the dark wizard outside could read what was in his mind the voice from outside immediately followed his demand with a description. “She has the blackest mane. Her skin is tanned easily by the sun, and her face is the smoothest and most perfect I have ever dreamed. The body is pure, slender and tall, perfect in its youth and beauty. She is young, I would assume about 20 in years. Her soul also is pure, vivacious, dutiful, uncorrupted, optimistic.” The description the wizard had given fitted Remzain. There could be little doubt of that in Princil’s mind, for now the barriers of tradition and civility were down between them he was convinced of his fullsister’s qualities. He could not comprehend how this strange wizard could have seen and appreciated Remzain’s qualities, but he fully concurred in the opinion the wizard was able to give.

So far Princil was relieved that the wizard had not her name, which might allow the wizard to see her more clearly and lay some devilish claim upon her.

“You must send her out to me. Look upon this as a sacrifice for the protection of the rest of you. But to make this easier for you I will tell you what I need her for. I need her as a wife, for a period of time, which I shall determine, until I have no further need of her. I will not mistreat her in any other way. She will be fed and looked after, as befits the beauty she is. She will be a servant to me, but not in manual labour – there will be others who will do that for me. I shall not break her beauty or do physical harm to her unless she attempt physical escape or not give me the love as of a wife, which she must contract to give. But any chastisement will not be damaging and be viewed only as a punishment. When I have no further need for her, which could be soon or could be two or three years or more, I will release her, and she will be able to find her own way in life. If you and yours survive the chaos we bring to your lives you may possibly have her back one day. That is the best I can offer you all, and it is generous!”

Princil was distraught. His beautiful sister was to be the price to be paid for the survival of the remaining household. How this sorcerer had located her through his magical defence remained a mystery to him. As the sorcerer had said, he had been looking for beauty, and his spell had been able to locate her despite Princil’s best efforts. He could see that if the sorcerer was who he said he was they would have no choice but to give her up to the fate this strange sorcerer intended. Princil, as a student mage was well aware of the reputation of Grumandor’s wizards. They were cruel, using the Black Arts to create their magics, which were terribly effective. If he was truly a wizard of Guthelm’s army of Grumandor, which seemed likely given the Grumandorian invasion, then he was to be feared, and he could probably do what he threatened. But to give up his closest sister to an uncertain fate galled him. He could hardly contemplate the possible horrors that might befall her in the hands of such a sorcerer. He had heard the tales, as most aware people had of the victims of black sorcery – hearts and other organs plucked out of living bodies, fingers, toes and limbs torn off, bleedings, and stretchings…..

(to be continued)