The True Source of Magic Pt. 01

"There's no need for thanks. It is my sworn duty to help those in need. But come, let's hurry. We don't know what evil lurks around the corner. Have you seen any guards around?" He reached out his free hand to help her up as he asked his question.

"I didn't see no guards." She took his hand and stood up with his help. "We've nothin' to worry about no more, thanks to you, my hero."

She smiled at him, and Coj saw now that she was definitely blushing. He felt a little awkward in front of this grateful admirer, a rarity for Coj, who tended to know exactly what to say, and what to do next in his vast experience with females. With no witty remark or winning overture at hand, all Coj did now was give a reassuring smile back, which ended up a bit more twitchy than he wanted, as often happens when one forces a smile in stressful circumstances. After holding the awkward smile for as long as he could, he quickly turned around and went to the doorway. He was eager to leave the area as soon as possible, because alarm bells were ringing loud in his mind. The presence of malignant magic had become significantly stronger in the jail area, and even though his new acquaintance denied having suffered any harm, there was something not quite right with her. She seemed to have suffered no outward injury, but she seemed not entirely untouched inside. He felt that she should be brought to a healer as soon as possible. However, the urgency he felt was not solely for the damsel he rescued, but also for himself. He feared that the enemy's magic had already begun its work on him. He felt that his senses and faculties had become less sharp, and there was a fragrant scent in the air that he instinctively hated. He covered his nose with the nook of his arm, but then quickly realized it was a useless, impractical gesture, so he resolved to focus on the main plan of action, which was to escape quickly. For now, he mustered all his inner strength to fight the insidious magical assault. Any lesser man would have been much more affected already, but Coj was still able to maintain sound reasoning. At the jail door, he peered outside the cell to make sure the exit was still secure. Satisfied that it was, he motioned for her to follow him. But she did not.

She stood there motionless, staring at him with a strange look. Coj guessed that perhaps the sight of his sword gave her doubt, so he made a couple of quick, deft movements with his still-glowing sword to get some of the blood off, wiped his blade onto the ends of his surcoat, and sheathed his sword. The cell immediately became dimmer.

"Come." He held out his hand. "I mean you no harm. I promise."

"I know. You're my hero," she said. "But I'm real shook up. I need some time to calm my nerves. Won't you be near me for a li'l while?"

"We haven't the time, miss! We must go! Please! Muster your strength and courage. Our health and security depend on it."

"I can't! Please, my hero. Please come by my side for just a li'l bit. " She sat back down.

Being who he was, Coj could not say No to a maiden in need, despite all the misgivings he had for staying even a moment longer; so he went to her, in hopes that he could quickly convince her to start moving.

"Good-miss, I know you are frightened. But you need to trust me. It's going to be alright. I promise." Coj tried to sound as reassuring as he could. "I will get you out of this awful place."

Coj sat down next to her and gently laid his hand on her shoulder. She smiled again at him. He noticed for the first time that she was rather alluring. It almost seemed like her face had changed since they first met, even though he knew it had not. When Coj first saw her, he had seen that she had a face that most might deem fair, but he did not recall her being this beautiful. The alarms rang even louder in his head; this was probably part of the enemy's magic. He also began noticing her figure underneath her simple chemise and kirtle, and she seemed rather... healthy.

Kadren!... Coj immediately focused his thoughts on his love, to give himself strength. He had a feeling he was going to be tested.

"I'm sorry I'm so useless," she said, almost with a pout. "I'm just so scared... I'll just be needin' a moment of comfort, and bein' near you comforts me so... I wish I could be of service to you in some way... to repay you, to give my thanks. I'm real grateful"... She placed one hand delicately on her bosom in a gesture of sincerity, but something about that gesture and the way she subtly repositioned her body was rather suggestive.

Coj shifted uncomfortably. The magic was getting stronger. He had to get out of his current predicament quickly. Coj had fought his way out of dangers before, with sword and skill alone, but this was a situation his sword could not solve for him - not yet anyway; his true enemy had still not shown themselves yet. This poor damsel was just an unwitting puppet.

"There's really no need for thanks. I'm happy to be of service. But my good-miss... you must, please, be brave... be strong! We will be alright. But we have to leave, now! There is an evil spell about; I can feel it. We must leave now before we succumb t..."

Coj stopped speaking, as she began unlacing the front of her kirtle.

"It's so warm in here!" she explained offhandedly.

Coj did feel it had gotten warmer, but he was not sure if it was their environment that had gotten warmer, and he definitely did not feel it warranted undressing.

"Are you warm?" she asked. "Perhaps we'd both be feelin' better with less layers."

She stood up and began slipping out of the half-undone garment.

"I would feel better if we left this place!" said Coj, suddenly agitated, and he stood up and away from her.

The kirtle had come off, and she stood there with her chemise on, gazing at him with a quiet yearning. The simple fabric did little to hide her curvaceous shape.

"Please don't be upset with me, m'lord. I'm not wishin' to upset my saviour. I'm only wishin' to spend some time in comfort before we got to face whatever be waitin' for us out there. I'm hopin' to give you comfort too. I want to show my gratitude... but I got nothin' to give, but myself. Please, m'lord. Take me. I give myself to you"... She closed her eyes and opened her arms, as if offering herself up as a sacrifice.

Coj swallowed hard. The magic was getting stronger, and he could feel his will becoming weaker; any lesser man would probably already be out of his clothes, if not out of his mind. Coj gathered the remainder of his inner strength to fight the enemy's increased onslaught. The presence of ill-intentioned magic was subtle no longer, and there was a clear and palpable intention pressing in on Coj, trying to make him yield, but Coj would not be conquered so easily. He wanted to strike back at the enemy, but he still could not sense the physical presence of the enemy nearby; the enemy was somehow pouring in their evil magic from afar, and waiting until they were both vulnerable before striking.

"My good-miss... Please. Compose yourself..."

She looked pained. "Do you not like me, m'lord? I'm all I've got to offer..."

"This is madness!" said Coj, and he angrily stormed towards the entrance and yelled, "Come out! I know you're out there! Fight me now, you coward!"

But there was no response except the distant-sounding echoes of his own voice. Coj peered out, intensely, into the dimly-lit cave, scanning every inch of the place, looking for something he could put his sword to. He was tired of fighting a losing battle, and was hoping for a clash of swords, something he was used to winning. But there was no fight to be had, only the ever-present force that was trying to bend Coj to the enemy's will, which had already made a puppet out of his new companion. Coj did not know what to do. He could not just leave her behind.

"Please don't be angry! Please!" she pleaded. "Come back, m'lord, please! Please, be with me!"

Coj sighed heavily, but did not turn around. He was running out of time, and running out of options. His defense against such an incessant magical assault could not hold up forever. Thoughts of giving in were already creeping in on him, and he found his mind wandering towards her chemise and what was underneath. He had to act quickly. He would have to bring her along against her will. He did not know exactly how to go about it, but he would perhaps tie her up, if needed. Whatever he decided to do, he would have to do it quickly. Thus resolved, Coj turned around to face the unpleasant task ahead.

When he turned around, he encountered yet another complication: she was undressing again. This was not totally unexpected, but it still managed to catch Coj by surprise, and he stood there dumbfounded as she stripped the remaining layers of clothing.

After she was done, she stood there completely naked, with desperate longing in her eyes. She then made her way towards Coj, and her nude form looked more ravishing than he had imagined.

------

Dern backed slowly away from her, as her ample breasts flashed before his sight, causing a fluttering panic in him. He must not become attracted to her, that was the warning in his mind. But that was an impossible task, for standing before him was a maiden of exquisite beauty who had just completely disrobed, her chemise, kirtle, and undergarments on the floor around her feet.

She had a lovely human face with features in it that made Dern wonder about possible elven ancestry. Her figure was extremely voluptuous. In fact, she was almost too curvy, like an exaggeration of some male fantasy. Moreover, there was a lot about the present situation that was a little peculiar...

Soft skin, full breasts, inviting hips, and long legs lingered in his mind as he looked away quickly, with his hands held up, as if to shield himself from a bright light she was emitting.

"P-please, please put your clothes back on" Dern stammered. She did not heed his request.

"Come, good sir. I must repay you," she said, and she began advancing.

He kept backing away, keeping his eyes on the ground, and darting his eyes behind him to find his next step. "No, no. It's okay. No repayment necessary. The least I could do, really..."

But still he saw her alluring form advancing in the periphery of his vision, and, despite himself, he continued to become more aroused.

"Alright. H-how about just a couple of silver pieces then, when we get you back to your family?"

She did not answer, but kept moving towards him, as he kept backing away.

"Just a hug?..." he asked feebly.

She kept advancing.

Dern had a fleeting sense of irony that an unattached man should be cowering away from an overtly friendly female of desirable proportions, but he found several things unsettlingly odd about his current situation. He wondered why a prisoner kept in a dank, dark dungeon would appear insatiably well; how her milky-white skin could still be so healthy-looking that it almost seemed to glow in the dim light of the cell; why her first reaction after being rescued would be to become intimate with a stranger; and why a wondrous beauty like her would even want a common, bookish servant like himself. No woman ever wanted Dern; they all wanted Coj - Master Cojil. Even Kadren...

Furthermore, he sensed magic about. Dern was born a regular human, but he had trained as a wizard. He was a very unimpressive wizard - as he was often reminded, but like any magician who has been immersed in magic for a while Dern could often sense the general purpose and intent of nearby magic. And he did not sense what he liked. There was some entity that meant to do harm. Dern did not believe (or did not want to believe) that the maiden was the source of evil, but he had a feeling that she was not fully in her right mind.

Dern was also keenly aware of the fact that he was in enemy territory. He had fallen down a trapdoor, much like Kadren had (unbeknownst to him), but in another room of the manor. In trying to find his escape from the underground dungeon, he had ended up in his present, erotic predicament. As he kept trying to keep his unexpected admirer at bay, Dern anxiously felt every second slip away; the longer he stayed in the underground dungeon, the less chance he saw of escaping unscathed. He did not know if there were enemies just around the corner. The more he thought about the possible dangers, the more he wanted to be free of his current situation. He wished he had been more aware of where he was going, for he now noticed he was retreating deeper and deeper into the cell, and his lovely captor was between him and the exit.

But even as all these thoughts of danger and caution filled his mind, he felt like something was gently suppressing them, and he felt a persistent urge to give in to the maiden's offer, even with all his misgivings. In fact, Dern felt that he was only half-hearted in his refusals towards her. Ever since stepping into the jail area, Dern found it gradually more difficult to focus on his stream of thoughts, like his thoughts were little fish slipping away quicker and quicker from his grasps. He had to laboriously remind himself what he was thinking about, and, more than once, he had to think hard on why he felt such a tremendous sense of danger, as he had momentarily forgotten. Dern was certain that all the struggles with his thinking was not just because an amazingly beautiful temptress was moving towards him; there was definitely some malignant magic in the air. In fact, there was now a faint pleasant scent becoming more and more noticeable, and Dern wondered whether it was playing a part in fogging up his mind. He could not tell if the scent was coming from the maiden or not; nevertheless, he reasoned that preventing further inhalation of the scent would likely be beneficial. Yet, he hesitated, for he was afraid that covering his nose might offend his lovely new acquaintance. He immediately admonished himself after having that thought, because it meant there was a part of him that was hoping to be able to take up the enticing offer. Indeed, the thoughts of just giving in were becoming progressively stronger and more frequent, with deluded reasonings accompanying those thoughts, such as the reasoning that he truly did have enough time for a quick romp before making their escape, or that there really were no more enemies left, and they were completely safe now; all of which, he did not truly believe. The opposing thoughts in his mind, the gentle yet persistent fog over his thinking, the indecision, the hesitation, the fear, the ever increasing arousal... it was all very dizzying. He knew he had to act quickly, if he were to maintain his faculties and escape.

Before he could muster up any plan of action, however, Dern suddenly felt an ice cold dread, for his back was now against the wall, and he had nowhere else to go. All he could do was was watch, as his dreadfully beautiful doom moved closer and closer towards him.

"Please!" he pleaded. "We really should get out of here! We can talk about repayment once we've escaped."

She did not reply. She only kept advancing.

He kept his eyes on her feet to track her progress; he dared not look up, in fear he would instantly succumb to his male weakness.

"Please, stop... please..." he uttered, weakly.

No response.

He felt it harder and harder to keep up logic and fear, as she moved closer towards him, but he knew he must somehow force himself to stay afraid and logical. What could he do? Should he threaten her? What if she really was innocent? She would not follow him after he threatened her, and he couldn't just let her stay in the dungeon to meet her doom, no matter how inconvenient she made things; she was not the enemy. Or was she? Maybe his instincts were wrong, and she was the enemy all along. But that didn't make sense; she just couldn't be the enemy. There was no malignant intent coming from her. Maybe he could just quickly give her a kiss; surely there could be no danger in that? There was probably no danger at all; he was probably just imagining things. After all, what would an unimpressive wizard like himself know about detecting an enemy's magic. If there really was a powerful enemy around, they would be able to hide their presence from such a lowly magician. But, still...

Or maybe just embrace her, touch her, feel her, just let her know he was willing, and they could finish their encounter after they had escaped. After all, it would be extremely rude of him to reject her show of gratitude. And there really was no reason that he shouldn't be with this beautiful woman. His luck had finally changed; finally he was wanted. Why would he turn away from his overdue good fortune? Who would care? He had no one to call his own, no one who cared for him. He had only ever cared for one, and she had made it plain she did not want him.

Kadren... Visions of her flashed before him. Kadren and her voluminous, sheeny black hair; her kind, bright, brown eyes; her endearing smile; her darker skin hinting of southern origins - the skin she had learned to love... the skin he had always loved...

And suddenly, in a moment of clarity, he knew exactly what he had to do. He could not figure out why he had not thought of it before; it was so obvious to him now: Run! It seemed absolutely absurd to him that he did not think of this before. This was no time to worry about being rude. He could always apologize later, once they escaped, but there would be no apology if the enemy came for them while they lingered down there. He had to leave his persistent admirer, now! He could regroup later, and figure out how to rescue her, but for now he had to get himself out of there, otherwise they could both be doomed.

But it was too late. She was upon him. He could not move. His limbs suddenly felt like dough, and only one part of him steadily became more rigid. He had to steady himself against the wall. His flesh tingled as she caressed him gently over his tunic, under his travelling cloak and leather armor. Her scent was intoxicating. Was it the scent he noticed earlier? He could not say.

Mesmerizing eyes, a seductive smile, her enchanting face swam in and out of his vision. She leaned in for a kiss, and his vision cleared into a tunnel, focused solely on her luscious lips. He knew it was over. The enemy had won. He would not be able to refuse those lips. And once their lips touched, he would be completely spellbound, and utterly doomed.