Laresa lay, languid in the moist grass. The summer sun beat down on her skin, to warm her contented flesh. Her hands shifted tenderly from the soft blades to the rounded form of her swollen belly. Every time she thought of the life growing within her, her heart raced! She thought back to the moment, seven months before, when it all happened.
For a seeming eternity the ring had floated on the wings of Rutila's final wish. Although she sometimes appeared instantly in a new location, there were times, like this when the ring seemed to float in the ether for long periods. These times were even more frightening and frustrating than the times when her home was lost in the mortal world. At least then there was the guarantee she would eventually be found. After all, mortals were always searching every little corner of the globe. With magic, Laresa was never positive she would come back.
Then, all at once, she felt the pull of the world on her home. The laws of physics once more asserted their custody over her. This time, she was fortunate. Within seconds she felt a presence hovering near. Then came the telltale jolt of someone putting on the ring and an almost instant pull of the summons.
As Laresa materialized she came to face two men. One, shorter than herself, with light skin, red hair and, light grey eyes. The other was almost too large to be real. He was over seven feet tall, the darkest of skin, with broad shoulders, and an amazingly muscled physique. The thin fuzz of hair, seemingly the only on his body, was pure black, and his eyes incredibly dark. He was irresistible.
There was a single incongruity to him. When her tribe committed themselves to the sacrifices, this man would have been a veritable giant, a god among men. There were no legends of one such as him. He could not have been made by the Djiin, but no other civilization had made their kind. This man was not only a genie, but the single most powerful she had ever met. It was as if his sheer power could barely be contained by his immense form.
"Laresa?" The smaller man drew her attention once more. "Good. We were hoping to find you. I am Patrick and this is Krell. We have searched for you." He moved up to her, her ring comfortable on his finger. He raised a hand to her cheek. "You are about to be freed."
It was all so confusing. Like a growing number of previous masters, Patrick knew who, and what, she was. Laresa could do not, but stare dumbly at the unusual pair. "I'm sorry, master?" So shocked was she that the title came out almost as an afterthought. "I do not understand."
Patrick's smile was warm and consoling. "We have a destiny to fulfill. I was once responsible for the eradication of a people. Who is not important. I was given a single chance to redeem myself." He paused and turned to the large man. "Krell's story is similar, but his crimes are even more heinous than mine. He volunteered for the rite, knowing that he could be condemned for eternity if it did not succeed." Krell simply nodded, his expression embarrassed and ashamed.
Patrick stepped back from Laresa and turned to his companion. The two raised their hands to meet and Patrick quickly slid the ring, her ring, onto Krell's hand. Laresa lurched forward in terror, but did not disappear back into the ring. Another contradiction; a genie who could empower other genies?
Patrick's light tenor voice brought her back from her confusion, in answer to her very thoughts. "He cannot summon your kind, which is why I did, but only he holds the power. He...we, were created, reborn, with the purpose of setting straight a great wrong."
"Laresa," Krell's powerful baritone seemed to echo throughout her body. The deepest recesses clenched in desperate response to that voice. Her body ached to feel him inside her. "You are free." Suddenly the world lurched. When Laresa regained her equilibrium an object dropped into her hand.
Laresa stared at the lump of amber and gold as she lay in the grass. The glorious yellow light glinted off of it. Such a simple thing for so many memories. As a shadow fell across her the ring still seemed to hold the light. She knew it was an illusion, a trick of the mind, but she imagined it held some power still. Perhaps it was just a reflection of another kind.
She looked up and smiled. He crouched down, above her head, and smiled. Laresa couldn't help but gaze down at the wonder that hung between his legs. It was this that had given her the great gift that swelled within her. His lips came forward to kiss her forehead before he flopped lazily down behind her.
As if on cue, over a dozen furry forms raced over and huddled among their alphas. Laresa nuzzled the pack's new pups and luxuriated in the feel of the warm fur. As a final gift, Krell and Patrick searched her mind for the ultimate time and place to live out her life. She smiled as she simply watched James. Her smile grew as he began to change form. He wanted to run with the pack, run with her.
It was a glorious feeling to run as a wolf, even more so now that her human form was so unbalanced and ungainly. Predators and prey alike knew how to run, were built to run, regardless of the circumstances. She began to roll to her side and begin the transformation James had wished for, so long ago, when a hand grasped her wrist. There was something wrong with the feel of the flesh that held her. It was cold, too cold to be healthy. Laresa looked down and screamed.
She tugged frantically at her arm as she tried to spin back to face James. He was gone. The pack was gone. The grass was gone. The sun was gone, replaced by a uniformly grey sky. This wasn't a normal overcast. It was as if the very world had begun to change around her.
Laresa coiled her legs beneath her, adding their strength to her fight, but the hand was implacable. The dead flesh refused to yield it's grip as it burst through the ground. It had the blue-grey pallor of decomposition but was as supple as if living. Worst of all, the longer it held her the more heat it seemed to draw away from her. Laresa feared this unknown abomination, but more, she feared for the unborn nestled deep within her. She threw herself backwards, but her feet only slipped beneath her, to send her sprawling to her butt.
The instant she hit the ground, a half-dozen more hands tore through the earth to grasp her other arm and legs. She fought the monstrosities, but every struggle cinched their grip and pulled her a little tighter. Slowly Laresa was dragged to her back where more hands broke through to hold her shoulders, her arms, her chest, her head, anything they could reach.
The world seemed to still a moment, as the dead flesh detained her. Then a single hand burst from the ground between her legs, held slightly apart by the grip. She screamed and shut her eyes to the cruel torment, as if blocking the sight could diminish their presence.. The hand came to rest on the silver/blond curls that so many masters lusted after and used with abandon. This hand was warm, but still, it seemed to drink her warmth to fuel itself as absolute cold began to spread across her skin.
The hands began to press, as if to pull her into the very ground by sheer force of power. Laresa panicked that they would bury her alive, but quickly realized they were pulling themselves free. One by one, the corpses dragged themselves free of their earthly prisons. All but the one who drank her very soul, all but the one between her legs.
Laresa's voice grew ragged with her screams. Their strength was undeniable. Her eyes snapped open as she felt pressure, at her inner thighs, pushing her legs wider. Though an eye dangled from a partially rotted socket and skin sloughed from his very bones, she couldn't help but recognize the man. She knew the sliced neck had occurred after his death. With up to his hips free of the ground , she screamed at the incongruous erection that pointed accusingly at her. Captain Trenchard and his men had come for their revenge.
Bones, sharpened like daggers, sprouted from the ends of his fingers and tickled lightly against her hips. Slowly, deliberately, those fingers began to trail upwards, to caress the life swelling within her. It was a promise to her. The slightest struggle and those razor sharp talons would pierce and shred her. She felt the cold, hard, and very dead, shaft press to her entrance.
"Stop!" The reaction to the command was instant. The pirate moved no further, but continued to part her terrified depths slightly. Laresa did not recognize the high alto voice. The source of the voice was blocked from her sight by the hulking body of the pirate captain. "Hold her, nothing more!" The captain stepped back and took his place by her left ankle. Revealed was a youth she had seen but briefly, and never alive. It was the bully, Wilhelm's terror, who had died by her magic, much as had the pirates.. Slowly he continued to advance until he had taken the captain's place, to kneel between her legs. But this child had no thoughts of violation.
Slowly his hands came to rest of the unborn. Young Aaron's cold, condemning eyes called to her. "How have you the right?" It was little more than a whisper in it's accusation. "How many children have you stolen?"
Laresa's heart seized in grief, unable to deny the truth. Through the years, through all of the masters, there had been many hundreds to die under the influence of her powers. With those she refused to save, those she let die, those who died at the hands of weapons she created or summoned for her masters, and those she tricked, the number multiplied by a factor for ten.
There was no pain as the youthful bully pressed against her. As if by magic, Aaron simply flattened her stomach. He kneaded her flesh until no signs of the precious unborn remained. Slowly, he shifted his hands down above her skin. When he found his chosen spots he pressed against her with fingers locked in position. They sank through her skin and muscle, as if she were made of liquid, and she felt him clutch her. His hands spasmed closed, crushing all hope of further conception, before retreating from her. Laresa's renewed screams had nothing to do with the pain of the flesh.
