The Wiced Witches of Oz

Chapter One: Nevermoor

Culane:

I sat in the dusty library of Rory O'More's ruined castle, Nevermoor, with books strewn about the desks and several large candles burning. Soft summer air wafted through the large open windows of the tower.

"Who are you?" she asked softly.

I had been aware of her presence for some time, had heard her quiet footfall on the stairs, and suspected that she was standing in the deep shadow of the doorway watching me.

I calmly turned towards her and smiled. "I am Culane of Tara. Who are you?"

"I am Theodora, daughter of Theodosius, Witch of the East. This is my castle." Her voice vibrated with excitement and fear.

I stood up smoothly, not wanting to spook her, and sketched a bow. "At your service ma'am," I declared in my courtly tone.

She took a couple of steps into the room, into the center of the candlelight, but I still couldn't see her face, lost as it was in the shadow of her very widely brimmed hat.

"Are you a wizard?" she asked breathlessly.

"No ma'am, just a soldier of fortune, although I do have considerable training in the Alchemist's arts," I replied.

"Oh," she said, quite disappointed. "Then what are you?"

"I'm a man."

"All of mankind is dead," she said flatly.

"In Oz, at least. Killed off by the Magi, I gather from reading poor Rory's journal. Should I be afraid?"

"Where did you come from? Are there more of you?"

she

sounded afraid, a little guilty over the ancient genocide, perhaps.

"No, I am quite alone, and I mean you no harm Theodora, Witch of the East. Please come in and sit down. It is a soft night and we have much to discuss."

After only a moment's hesitation she came and sat across the table from me. She smelled delightfully of blooming night flowers.

"I am from Eire, an Island like Oz, but very, very far away," I explained congenially. "My airship drifted, and after many days of high winds came down in the courtyard of this castle."

"You can make a ship fly through the air?" she asked in surprise.

"In most weather," I replied wryly.

"You speak my language," she added, suspicion creeping into her voice.

"It is a form of Meridian, which I know well. A soldier of fortune must travel, so it helps to be good at languages."

"And what is this alchemy that you spoke of?" more suspicion.

"It is the mastery of the elements, formulas, potions, that sort of thing. Surely you have it here."

"So you are

like

a wizard," she said thoughtfully.

"Would you kindly take off your hat so I can see who I am speaking to," I asked gently, instead of a reply.

"You are very forward, sir. A Witch of Oz does not take orders from anyone, least of all strange, untidy men who fall from the sky," she declared firmly.

"I beg your pardon madam, the fall must have rattled my untidy head." I replied smoothly. "I only wished to discover if your face could match the loveliness of your voice. At least let me bring the light closer so that we may see each other better, it will be more...polite... that way."

"That may be permitted," she replied with a haughty huff that she didn't quite pull off. She was excited and interested, there was no question of that, and she was not completely comfortable with regal behavior.

I moved one of the large candles so that it was almost between us.

"Ah," I said with awestruck appreciation. "One of the beautiful witches."

She lowered her eyes; "All witches are beautiful, and I am the least of my sisters," she replied in a small voice.

"I don't believe that," I exclaimed. "No one could be more beautiful than you."

It was too shadowy to see if she blushed, but I heard a soft sigh escape her lips. She was about to speak, when a ferocious roar from outside the window interrupted her.

She jumped up and retreated to the doorway, "Come quickly!" she hissed.

I followed, but held her at the door, standing between her and the window where the terrible howling was now accompanied by the sound of claws scraping on stone. Large leathery wings thrashed the heavy night air.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Barga, a flying baboon."

It filled the large window arch, howling, red eyes glowing in the dark, powerful jaws slobbering over huge, sharp yellow teeth.

"Is it wild, or some kind of war animal like an attack dog?"

"It can be either," she replied, "this one has no uniform or collar, so it must be wild. Watch out, it's going to attack!"

Indeed it had begun to charge.

"I can handle it," I said as I drew my long barreled pistol from the holster on my leg.

"They are very strong," she warned anxiously pressing tightly against my back.

"Then I'll give him both barrels," I replied with studied casualness.

I did so, right between the eyes. It fell to the ground in a skidding rush and came to rest almost at our feet. I broke open my pistol letting the empty shell casing fly, and swiftly reloaded as I stepped forward through the gun smoke to stand over its stinking, twitching body.

"Is it dead?" she asked.

I could feel her hot breath on my neck. She had followed me, keeping hold of my left arm. She jumped when I emptied both barrels into its skull for good measure.

"Now, yes," I replied, shifting my foot to avoid the spreading pool of blood.

"Come," she said tugging at me; "let's get away from this place."

####

Theodora:

Nevermoor Castle was part of my small domain, but since I seldom visited any of the depressing ruins of the long dead race of men, I was not familiar with its maze of rooms and stairwells. Culane, however, seemed to have gained a thorough knowledge of them in a very short time. He led me quickly to a large interior hall where he lit a small fire already laid in the big hearth. Then he pulled an armchair up before it's mellow light, one big enough to hold us both.

We huddled together with our thighs and flanks pressed together. It seemed a natural thing to do after the danger we had faced together, and my hat was still firmly on my head, which served to keep a safe distance between our faces.

Of course I should have been more wary of him, a man, but I sensed no danger in him, and wanted to keep him close. What harm could there be in that?

The smell of him was intoxicating, a male smell I had never known before; although it reminded me a little of stallions I had ridden. His face, up close, and his strong body were very pleasing to my eyes. My heart still pounded from the night's events. I was not afraid of him anymore, but I had many questions, and so did he.

"Are there a lot of witches in Oz?" he asked.

"Only four, I and my three sisters."

"North, South, East and West?"

"Yes, Galinda, Dormadora, me and Evanora."

"And how do you get along with your sisters?" the rogue asked, knowing full well how such a question would loosen my tongue.

"We are not friends," I replied, instantly warming to the subject. "Actually we're only half-sisters, the daughters of Theodosius the last High Wizard of Oz, each of us from a different mother."

"I despise Dormadora; she is powerful, devious, and unnaturally wicked. She stole the East from me just after our father died, and gave me this little sliver of land that she took from Galinda. She calls herself Queen of Oz, but there is no Queen of Oz. There cannot be one without a High Wizard to be king."

"Evenora has taken me in, but I know it's just to use me against the others. She doesn't love me like she says she does; all she loves is gold and treasure. Galinda is cold and distant and shows no interest in anyone but herself and her precious beauty."

I had been speaking bitterly towards the fire, but now I looked up at his strange, masculine face, a man's face, all deep shadows and ruddy planes caused by the firelight flickering over his chiseled features. Was there any sympathy there for me? He looked at me with a gentle smile that made my insides go watery.

"Now will you remove your hat madam, if I may be so bold, it is very inconvenient in this small space," he said gently, in his courtly, slightly mocking way.

I was shy, as was to be expected of an ugly duckling in a brood of swans, but I was wickedly proud of my hair which was much longer, thicker and fuller than anything my sisters possessed. It was my sole weapon in the battle for the hand of The Wizard when he finally came, and I had practiced this moment, the grand unveiling, so to speak, in anticipation of making a striking first impression on him.

Now I shamelessly trotted it out for this stranger. Coyly removing my intentionally broad hat by the crown, I held it for a moment completely covering my face, before the dramatic reveal. Then, with demurely lowered eyes, I slipped the pin from the pile of hair on the left side of my head and let it drop of its own weight, a full, dark wave that covered half of my face to distract him from its mediocrity.

I didn't have to pretend a look of breathlessness; my heart was fluttering dangerously. And all for the approval of a mere man!

I saw appreciation, wonder even, shining in his eyes, and a genuine smile of pleasure softening the worn granite of his face, but far from stilling my heart, his apparent appreciation made it beat even faster. I became lost in his eyes, and let the hat fall thoughtlessly from my fingers to the dusty floor.

"Ahhh, much better," he said; "what magnificent hair! I cannot believe that there is a witch in Oz, or any other land for that matter, more beautiful than you Theodora," he said in a confident, husky voice. "I'll bet my life on it."

Tears welled up in my eyes, and I would have been foolishly overcome had our eyes remained engaged, but he put one of his strong arms around me, creaking with the sound of leather, and pulled me to his chest so that I could rest my head there and stare into the fire.

I knew nothing of the ages of men, but I felt that he was much older than my three hundred years. He was so relaxed here in this desolate and dangerous place, that I imagined that he was Rory O'More himself, returned from the dead. I forgot that Rory O'More had been cruel to witches, or at least that was what I had been told.

"Tell me more about your awful sisters," he prompted giving me a gentle squeeze.

"Evenora is strict with me, she is temperamental and I fear her foul moods," I said with a sigh.

He didn't speak, so I went on. "I am the youngest and the least of my sisters. Galinda is the most beautiful, Dormadora the most intelligent, Evenora the richest. I have the least land, the least power, the least beauty, and I am the least loved." I said bitterly.

He turned again to face me, and this time drew me closer to his chest. "That cannot be so, I'm sure," he said.

Of course I had never been embraced by a man before, as they were all dead before I was born. It felt marvelously good. Warm, comforting, and exciting in an oddly stirring way. It was akin to, but not the same as Galinda's embrace, or Evenora's.

"It is true," I pouted shifting my restless bum against the worn cushion.

I had inklings of what unnatural things my naughty body wanted, but I could scarcely acknowledge them even to myself.

"Never, never," he replied softly stroking my hair which sent incredible shivers through me. "What sort of powers do these sisters of yours possess that makes them so great?"

"They all have the art of seeing afar in the present, also into the past, and sometimes even into the future. Evenora has her Crystal ball, Galinda her mirror, and Dormadora a still fountain. I had a crystal ball too, a small one, but Dormadora took that away from me too."

"I am coming to dislike this Dormadora very much," he said and it gave me a powerful thrill to hear it.

"Evenora can shoot bolts of lightning that can stun or kill, and she can fly at will. Galinda and Dormadora have great skill with potions and spells that they can use for many purposes. Galinda flies inside great bubbles, Dormadora rides a gnarly staff."

"But surely you have some powers too," he said.

I made a belittling shrug and burrowed deeper into his chest.

"I know some charms, mostly of healing and for making crops grow, but I cannot fly at will, and without my crystal ball, I have no special sight at all."

"I sense there is more power in you than that. You have the blood of the same powerful father, do you not?" he asked.

His gentle attention and encouragement was making my breasts swell and my nipples knot up painfully. I moved restlessly against him, not really knowing what I meant by it. My hand, of its own will, slipped inside his jacket, and then inside his silken blouse to stroke the fine hair on his chest. I went on speaking, wanting to hold his attention, wanting him to be interested in me, to champion me.

"They are older than me, and have had far more training. Yes, I feel I have power, but it frightens me because I don't know how to control it and make it do what I want it to do."

"What power?"

I hesitated feeling embarrassed.

He ran his rough fingers from the scalp of my forehead down the fall of my hair and across to my shoulders, cupping it, tugging it gently, hefting it, as if judging its weight and quality. It gave me shivers from the crown of my head to my awakening quim.

"You can tell me," he said reassuringly. "In my travels I have known witches of many sorts."

This should have been a surprise to me, but I was so intensely concerned with my own troubles that I scarcely heard what he said, merely the gentle encouraging sound of his voice.

"When I am angry fire bursts from my fingertips and I can hurl it, so that it makes things explode and burn, but I cannot call it at will, or scarcely contain it when it does come," I confessed.

How strange to have someone to talk to who didn't already know everything about me. It gave me a heartening sense of ......individuality, of uniqueness that I had never known before.

"Just angry; what about when you're afraid, like when the barga attacked, or when your sisters threaten you?"

"No, that's the worst. When I am afraid I grow stone cold, and to make fire I have to be hot! The.... the spark of the fire comes from . . . from, well... down there inside me."

A fire was building there now, and I couldn't ignore the meaning of it.

But with a man?

The thought was outrageously wanton.

"Ahh, I see," he said in a very comforting and understanding tone. "I have come across this before and I know exactly how to help you."

"You do?" I straightened up in surprise keeping my hand on his chest for balance.

"Absolutely."

This was incredible. "Will you show me?" I asked, nearly panting in his face.

"Show you, I will teach you, sweet Theodora!" he chuckled and gave me a little peck on the nose. "Of course it will take time and practice, but I know the secret, and I can teach it to you."

"Will you really? You must! Oh please, please do," I said crawling up on his lap so that I could look directly into his eyes hoping to charm him, wanting desperately to have him as my own special friend.

If I could gain control of my power I would at last be equal to my sisters.

"I will find some way to pay you, I promise," I said, and was surprised at how my voice now came from deep in my throat. I admit that it was an enticing thought, being in his debt, a naughty thought, for what could I possibly have that would interest a creature such as him?

"You don't have to pay me," he said. "But if you are going to learn, you must trust me, and do everything I tell you. You have to be dedicated to your lessons," he said fixing me with a stern look.

"I will, I will, I promise," the words came tumbling out of me. I threw my arms around his neck and pressed my aching breasts against him. I could barely contain my excitement.

"In this you will be my master, for I think that there is more than a little wizard in you after all," I cried.

"Well they do say that the first wizards were men," he replied, and gave my neck a brief, hot little kiss.

####

Culane:

"The secret to controlling your power is to connect your conscious thoughts to your physical passion. To do this you must faithfully practice triggering your passion, and then controlling it with your willpower," I said.

She had been eager to get started so I had begun the first lesson straight away.

"You must see it as contained balls of fire and then, channel it to your fingertips to be hurled by your

intentional

command. Come stand beside me."

She practically bounded out of the chair, a lithe little vixen whose skin-tight leather pants revealed a high, tight, ass, shapely legs, a flat stomach and slightly flared hips. She was small, but not petite; she seemed supple, the kind of lover that would bend and not break under a strong hand.

"But how do I trigger my passion, I can't just make myself angry at will?" she asked.

In her high-heeled, knee length boots the crown of her head came to just below my chin, so she had to look up. Her eyes in the dim firelight were immense and dark.

Her face when finally liberated from the shadow of her silly hat, had been all that I could have hoped for. She had olive skin, full, shapely red lips, and the slightest overbite that revealed the tips of perfect white teeth.

There was a charming innocence and tentativeness about her, but her eyes, and the way her body moved hinted at a barely restrained voluptuousness.

"Anger is not the only source of your passion," I replied. "Take off your jacket, make yourself comfortable."

She pushed her breasts foreword as she slipped the jacket off of her shoulders, pausing to stand with her arms at her sides and a little behind as she worked it further down, adopting the pose of a prisoner with her hands bound behind her.

"Ah, what instincts you betray," I thought.

Her body was as marvelous from the waist up as is was from the waist down. Her blouse of snow-white linen tucked into her tight pants had a deep v at the neck, and even though it was quite loose it could not hide the curve of her pert breasts that appeared large on her small frame. She tossed the jacket onto the chair which set these loosely held treasures rippling.

"What wonderful hair you have Theodora," I said, not wanting to be too direct with my compliments. "Come, I need to warm you up," I opened my arms and she came to me without hesitation.

I embraced her, bent down and kissed her full, soft, lips. I can only surmise that Evenora had taught her a thing or two, for her kiss was neither tentative nor inexperienced, her tongue eagerly in play.

I traced the delicate up sweep of her top lip, and couldn't resist chewing gently on her plumper bottom one. She went at it pretty good, meeting me with hungry passion, hugging the back of my neck while I stroked her hair.

"Very nice," I said when we broke. "As I hoped, you have the necessary heat. You are going to do very well indeed lovely Theodora."

"I can feel the power in you Culane," she replied earnestly and reached for me again.

As we kissed I undid the single button of her blouse, and then bent down and kissed her neck. Her swollen, perfectly rounded breasts were covered by a thin, tight, chemise through which her dark nipples thrust. I maneuvered her a few steps so that she was backed up against the heavy armchair.

"Now concentrate on the heat," I said, and moved to the side so that with my left hand on the back of her neck, my right hand could undo the metal buttons of her pants.

"Oh, that," she breathed sounding slightly surprised, but excited.

"Yes, concentrate," I said as I slid my hand down inside her pants and under her drawers.

'Ahhhh, oh my," she made a little squeal and flinched as if she had taken an electric shock. "I'm so sensitive there," she whispered in wonder sticking the tip of her sharp tongue into my ear.