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The Gray Tower
© 2014 by Walter Reimer
(This is a sequel to The Black Chapel. Reading the earlier story isn’t really necessary, but you may find it useful. Just saying.)
Art by
whitearabmare
5.
“Master Ast?” The wolf looked up as Halvrika, dressed in a tunic, trousers and soft, low-cut boots, stepped into his study. “I am ready, if you wish to start.”
He passed a paw over the scroll on his desk and it rolled up neatly. “I believe I am ready. I’ve been up for hours, studying everything I can. Please sit down, Halvrika.” She sat down on a low stool and he clasped his paws in his lap as he looked at her. “You’ve slept well? Had enough to eat?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Good. We’ll begin, then.” A brief flare of power, and the two slipped partway into the Writ as another simulacrum of the raccoon sow appeared. The image was linked to Halvrika, and the two watched for a few moments as blood circulated, lungs filled and emptied, and her breakfast made its slow way through her digestive tract. Ast moved around it as he said, “The two – filaments, for want of a better word – are embedded very deeply in you.” He traced one, then the other, before turning to look at her. “Do you recall when Adept Barscha had to have all his fur cut off?”
The raccoon giggled despite herself. Sima Barscha was a very thick-fleeced sheep. A poorly crafted bit of magic had turned that fleece a particularly vivid shade of green and refused to change back. He’d been forced to have his entire fleece removed so it could grow back. “Imagine, now, that the heap of wool contains two thin and very long hairs.” He held his ethereal paws three feet apart. “Very long, thin and fragile hairs, all tangled up. And in order to prepare the wool for sale, you must remove the hairs in one piece.”
The size of the task finally came home to her. She gulped involuntarily.
Ast continued to speak. “Based on what you have told us, the spell that was inflicted upon you derives only part of its power from the caster. The rest of it comes from the host – you, that is.” His tail flicked back and forth. “Have you had sex since vanquishing Amb Tokarv?”
She blinked at the unexpected question. “Yes, Master,” she replied truthfully.
“Hmm. You must stop having sex. Including masturbation. Immediately, until these are completely out of you, root and branch.”
“Why?”
By way of reply, he touched the nearest thread.
Halvrika shuddered as a frisson of pure lust ran through her. “It amplifies your lust, Halvrika, so that it can feed,” he explained. “In fact, it feeds on your emotions as well – the more powerful the emotion, the more energy the spell can extract from you. You said that your fear and anger actually increased the Binding’s influence?”
She nodded.
“The, ah, worms were designed to ease the Binding’s passage into you. By themselves, they were merely two wooden dildos – fairly standard toys for a woman or adventurous man. The spells they were imbued with, though, took a great deal of effort.” He looked thoughtful. “Now that I think of it, I rather doubt that Amb could have done it.”
“But he had Jeresh the Black’s library – “
“Hmm. That may be the answer. You still have the scrolls?”
“Yes, Master.”
Ast nodded. “You, Master Marok and I will safeguard things. Because I want you to read those scrolls, and learn what you can.” Her eyes went wide and he asked, “Yes, Adept?”
“Master?”
“Yes?”
“Are – have you gone suddenly insane?” Halvrika blurted. “Those scrolls are dangerous! I can – I can feel the darkness coming off them from across my room, despite the wards. It feels like swimming in chill swamp water!” She was up and out of her chair, backing away from the wolf. “And you want me to study them?” She shuddered at the thought.
The wolf raised a finger to draw her attention, then pointed to the two spell filaments.
She had to squint, but did they suddenly look a tiny bit . . . larger?
Halvrika groped behind her for the chair and sat down and took several deep breaths to center herself. Calm, she ordered herself a bit desperately, Stay calm . . . Master, I-I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Master Jerofer placed his paws on her shoulders. “If anything, the fault is mine, but I had to show you. You have to remain centered, Halvrika, or those two threads will grow larger. I will prepare a drug to help you, while still keeping your mind sharp.” He saw her glance away, a worried expression on her muzzle. “What is it, Halvrika?”
She closed her eyes and took a few breaths before looking up at him. “Master, I have two questions.”
“Go on.”
“How will we – me, you and Master Marok, that is – keep the library from harming anyone?”
The wolf smiled. “Marok and I shall study the magic they are saturated with, and a ward will be constructed. There is no living mind controlling them, so they can be held without fear of the parchment being used as a conduit. You will be involved in this process as well, since you will be the person actually reading them. And your other question?”
The raccoon’s banded tail lay in her lap, her paws stroking the thick fur nervously. Her voice was barely audible as she asked, “What would happen if the filaments grow too large?”
Ast cupped her chin in his paw and replied, “Truthfully, I am unsure without further study.”
“Can you guess?”
“Hmm. I would think that their influence would make you more amenable to control by someone with the right magical ‘keys.’ You do recall your instruction on that.” She nodded and he smiled reassuringly. “With Amb dead, and his library here and secure, finding the right key would be nearly impossible.” He moved his paw from her chin to gently stroke the backs of two fingers along her cheek, then touched her hair. “For now, though, I am invoking my authority as the Healing Master of the Order, young Adept.”
She sat up straighter. “Master.”
“You will go to my garden and meditate.” He waggled a finger at her. “Not more than one full hour, and no less. I will speak with Marok, and I will prepare that drug for you.”
Halvrika thought for a moment and nodded. “Yes, Master.” She stood up, straightened out her clothing and walked out of the room. Ast watched her go.
”Thou hast heard?” he asked.
”Certes, and I thank thee for permitting the use of thine eyes,” Marok Dinest replied. He sighed. ”Of a certainty, young Hringurhali’s strength will be sorely needed for the tasks thou hast set her.”
”Thy power is unimpaired, old friend. I foresee no harm.”
”Yet I doubt.”
The wolf regarded the bear with a gentle smile. ”That is thy affection speaking.”
”So it is, my friend, so it is,” and the bear gave him a rueful look.
Halvrika had obtained a water-skin before going to the Healer’s private garden. The plot was small, perhaps twelve feet on a side with narrow paths cut between rows and stands of medicinal plants of every description. She took a drink of water and sat down on the path.
Bees buzzed around her and the light wind stirred the plants as she closed her eyes and breathed in through her nose. Rosemary, tansy, bay . . . the sounds and odors relaxed her, and she slipped into the meditative state she’d been taught as a Novice and felt her stress ebb away.
© 2014 by Walter Reimer
(This is a sequel to The Black Chapel. Reading the earlier story isn’t really necessary, but you may find it useful. Just saying.)
Art by
whitearabmare5.
“Master Ast?” The wolf looked up as Halvrika, dressed in a tunic, trousers and soft, low-cut boots, stepped into his study. “I am ready, if you wish to start.”
He passed a paw over the scroll on his desk and it rolled up neatly. “I believe I am ready. I’ve been up for hours, studying everything I can. Please sit down, Halvrika.” She sat down on a low stool and he clasped his paws in his lap as he looked at her. “You’ve slept well? Had enough to eat?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Good. We’ll begin, then.” A brief flare of power, and the two slipped partway into the Writ as another simulacrum of the raccoon sow appeared. The image was linked to Halvrika, and the two watched for a few moments as blood circulated, lungs filled and emptied, and her breakfast made its slow way through her digestive tract. Ast moved around it as he said, “The two – filaments, for want of a better word – are embedded very deeply in you.” He traced one, then the other, before turning to look at her. “Do you recall when Adept Barscha had to have all his fur cut off?”
The raccoon giggled despite herself. Sima Barscha was a very thick-fleeced sheep. A poorly crafted bit of magic had turned that fleece a particularly vivid shade of green and refused to change back. He’d been forced to have his entire fleece removed so it could grow back. “Imagine, now, that the heap of wool contains two thin and very long hairs.” He held his ethereal paws three feet apart. “Very long, thin and fragile hairs, all tangled up. And in order to prepare the wool for sale, you must remove the hairs in one piece.”
The size of the task finally came home to her. She gulped involuntarily.
Ast continued to speak. “Based on what you have told us, the spell that was inflicted upon you derives only part of its power from the caster. The rest of it comes from the host – you, that is.” His tail flicked back and forth. “Have you had sex since vanquishing Amb Tokarv?”
She blinked at the unexpected question. “Yes, Master,” she replied truthfully.
“Hmm. You must stop having sex. Including masturbation. Immediately, until these are completely out of you, root and branch.”
“Why?”
By way of reply, he touched the nearest thread.
Halvrika shuddered as a frisson of pure lust ran through her. “It amplifies your lust, Halvrika, so that it can feed,” he explained. “In fact, it feeds on your emotions as well – the more powerful the emotion, the more energy the spell can extract from you. You said that your fear and anger actually increased the Binding’s influence?”
She nodded.
“The, ah, worms were designed to ease the Binding’s passage into you. By themselves, they were merely two wooden dildos – fairly standard toys for a woman or adventurous man. The spells they were imbued with, though, took a great deal of effort.” He looked thoughtful. “Now that I think of it, I rather doubt that Amb could have done it.”
“But he had Jeresh the Black’s library – “
“Hmm. That may be the answer. You still have the scrolls?”
“Yes, Master.”
Ast nodded. “You, Master Marok and I will safeguard things. Because I want you to read those scrolls, and learn what you can.” Her eyes went wide and he asked, “Yes, Adept?”
“Master?”
“Yes?”
“Are – have you gone suddenly insane?” Halvrika blurted. “Those scrolls are dangerous! I can – I can feel the darkness coming off them from across my room, despite the wards. It feels like swimming in chill swamp water!” She was up and out of her chair, backing away from the wolf. “And you want me to study them?” She shuddered at the thought.
The wolf raised a finger to draw her attention, then pointed to the two spell filaments.
She had to squint, but did they suddenly look a tiny bit . . . larger?
Halvrika groped behind her for the chair and sat down and took several deep breaths to center herself. Calm, she ordered herself a bit desperately, Stay calm . . . Master, I-I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Master Jerofer placed his paws on her shoulders. “If anything, the fault is mine, but I had to show you. You have to remain centered, Halvrika, or those two threads will grow larger. I will prepare a drug to help you, while still keeping your mind sharp.” He saw her glance away, a worried expression on her muzzle. “What is it, Halvrika?”
She closed her eyes and took a few breaths before looking up at him. “Master, I have two questions.”
“Go on.”
“How will we – me, you and Master Marok, that is – keep the library from harming anyone?”
The wolf smiled. “Marok and I shall study the magic they are saturated with, and a ward will be constructed. There is no living mind controlling them, so they can be held without fear of the parchment being used as a conduit. You will be involved in this process as well, since you will be the person actually reading them. And your other question?”
The raccoon’s banded tail lay in her lap, her paws stroking the thick fur nervously. Her voice was barely audible as she asked, “What would happen if the filaments grow too large?”
Ast cupped her chin in his paw and replied, “Truthfully, I am unsure without further study.”
“Can you guess?”
“Hmm. I would think that their influence would make you more amenable to control by someone with the right magical ‘keys.’ You do recall your instruction on that.” She nodded and he smiled reassuringly. “With Amb dead, and his library here and secure, finding the right key would be nearly impossible.” He moved his paw from her chin to gently stroke the backs of two fingers along her cheek, then touched her hair. “For now, though, I am invoking my authority as the Healing Master of the Order, young Adept.”
She sat up straighter. “Master.”
“You will go to my garden and meditate.” He waggled a finger at her. “Not more than one full hour, and no less. I will speak with Marok, and I will prepare that drug for you.”
Halvrika thought for a moment and nodded. “Yes, Master.” She stood up, straightened out her clothing and walked out of the room. Ast watched her go.
”Thou hast heard?” he asked.
”Certes, and I thank thee for permitting the use of thine eyes,” Marok Dinest replied. He sighed. ”Of a certainty, young Hringurhali’s strength will be sorely needed for the tasks thou hast set her.”
”Thy power is unimpaired, old friend. I foresee no harm.”
”Yet I doubt.”
The wolf regarded the bear with a gentle smile. ”That is thy affection speaking.”
”So it is, my friend, so it is,” and the bear gave him a rueful look.
Halvrika had obtained a water-skin before going to the Healer’s private garden. The plot was small, perhaps twelve feet on a side with narrow paths cut between rows and stands of medicinal plants of every description. She took a drink of water and sat down on the path.
Bees buzzed around her and the light wind stirred the plants as she closed her eyes and breathed in through her nose. Rosemary, tansy, bay . . . the sounds and odors relaxed her, and she slipped into the meditative state she’d been taught as a Novice and felt her stress ebb away.
Category Story / Fantasy
Species Raccoon
Size 209 x 452px
File Size 16.5 kB
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