Majutsu-Shi No Chiara

Majutsu-shi no Chikara loosely translates to "Sorcerer's Power"

CHAPTER FOUR: The Tower Calls

"Ginga?" Akuji held the weeping young woman at arms' length, his own eyes wet. "My wife and son are both dead, I must grieve."

"Please." Ginga met his eyes and grasped his hands in her own and kissed his calloused knuckles. "Please, let me stay with you. Prende told me I am with child."

"Gods, is there no pity?" Akuji sank to his knees, and Ginga stepped forward and held his head to her belly. "Have you asked no-one else?"

"There was no time." Ginga's own eyes wept, but she held her sobbing tightly. "She only just told me today, after you returned. So many are already lost to us..."

"No... no, you are right." Akuji sniffed loudly and mopped his face on his sleeve. Standing, he embraced the young woman whom he'd hoped would marry his eldest son.

"Of course, you may stay in my house." Akuji whispered into her short, crinkly hair. "My hearth is your hearth. My table is your table..."

"My bed is your bed." Ginga sobbed into his chest, folding her arms across his back and squeezing as tightly as she could. In some far corner of her mind, she prayed that if she could hold tight long enough, Damon's ghost would somehow be tied to them.

They stood together, holding each other up against the crushing stones of grief tumbling all around inside Akuji's house. Then, the nymph's power slid over them in silken silence, and they grew quiet. The breathed in unison, finding comfort in that embrace, and withdrew to Akuji's bed -- though to each of them it smelled of their lost lovers. There, they slept, clinging to each other as driftwood in the sea.

...

"It's unnatural, father." Nurcan mopped sweat from her brow, breathing heavily to settle her nerves. "This power she holds, it is not right."

"So, you begin to see." Shaum nodded, his eyes shut tight even in the poor light of his home. "Go, find someone to bring your release... it will ease her grip on you, for a time."

"And you, papa?" Nurcan's hands trembled, and she snatched them away from his bony knees before they could do anything of their own accord.

"Oh, my mind burns from her magic." Shaum laughed. "But no flesh so old as mine can be coaxed back from the grave. She is no danger to me, now."

"I will return..." Nurcan stood, clutching her shawl close about her. "...after..."

"I am in no rush, child." Shaum sighed dreamily.

...

"Matta! Matta!" Deedra ran into the ancient sorcerer's abode, a lopsided grin on her face and a tiny plume of light wavering unsteadily in her hand. "Look! I made a light!"

"So you did, little one." Matta chuckled, rubbing his hands over his knees by his black-stone fire pit. "Show me what you have, there."

"It's... it's a light." Deedra held her hand forward, only for the glow to flicker and vanish from her palm like smoke. "Stones and bollocks..."

"Deedra, language." Jyran followed-in behind the girl, a small flame perched triumphantly in his palm. "Be patient, and you'll get it soon enough."

"What's this?" Matta raised his brows and frowned at Jyran. "I did not instruct you to call on fire, yet."

"Oh, I just sort of figured it out." Jyran smiled, bringing the flame from one hand to the other. "It's not so difficult, really."

"Is it not?" Matta's eyes narrowed suspiciously, and his fingers plucked at the fabric around his knees. "And now?"

"Oh... ow, OW! Damn and blasted..." Jyran blew at his palms as the flame winked-out. "Damn it all, Matta -- I

had

it!"

"No." Matta shook his head. "You most certainly did

not

."

"That weren't very nice, Matta." Deedra's finger had found its way to her nose, again, but quickly dropped to her tunic and dug at her navel. "We're doing what you said."

"You are." Matta nodded, his smile returning even as he cast a reproachful glance at the man behind her. "But I asked you to practice with a small light spell... not go running into the wilds with fire in your blood."

"In our blood?" Jyran scoffed. "It's a spell, Matta."

"Be still, pup." Matta scolded. "Know to whom you speak."

"Matta..." Deedra whined.

"Jyran, I need your help." Nurcan interrupted at the entry. "One of the other women is... having difficulty."

"A man's work is never done." Jyran slanted his own toothy grin at Matta and wagged his eyebrows. "I'll be back before supper."

"No." Nurcan fairly growled as she snagged his elbow. "You won't."

"Deedra." Matta caught the child's attention, holding a small sphere of yellow light in his hand. "See if you can touch the magic holding this light, little one."

"Ta!" Deedra clapped her hands together and took a deep breath -- her brow furrowed in concentration and she stretched her fingers around the ball of light.

She explored the air around the orb for several seconds, when at last the nimbus twitched toward her hand.

"Gently." Matta whispered, his eyes vacant as he perceived so much more around him than the simple room in which he sat.

"I know, Matta -- I listen." Deedra's tongue stuck from the side of her mouth and slowly slid across to the other side, as the ball gradually began to slip toward her hand.

"Do you see the lines?" Matta tilted his head. "Can you feel them around your hand?"

"Almost..." Deedra sucked in her breath, sweat rising on her brow.

"Not too much..." Matta cautioned. "Wait..."

A faint spark and the light in the shack was snuffed -- even the globes which normally hung in the corners of the room went dark. There was a yelp of pain and surprise, then crying as Deedra felt the searing heat through the flesh of her hands and arms.

From outside, Prende ran toward them -- her glow bathing them in warmth and comfort, though doing little for Deedra's scorched palms.

"There, see?" Matta frowned, pulling forth ash from the fire pit and spitting into his palm. "Even a tiny little light can be dangerous."

"Matta, what did you do?" Prende's voice was neither mystified nor accusatory, but her meaning was clear enough as she wrapped her arms around Deedra's shoulders. "It's alright, little one, it's alright."

"It hurts." Deedra whimpered.

Matta grunted agreement and gently rubbed the ash paste through the air over Deedra's hands, his fingers caressing the air and his voice finding a marble-shaped syllable to roll toward the spell. The magic coalesced and sank into Deedra's arms, spreading down to her palms and out to her fingertips -- the flesh mending, pale pink scars trailing in the wake.

"Yes, sweet Deedra." Matta warned, not for the first time. "Magic

hurts

."

...

"I thought you said your work was never done...?" Nurcan gave Jyran a predatory smile. "Are you wrung-out like day-old washing, already?"

"No, I just..." Jyran struggled to catch his breath, thrusting his hips upward toward the elder apprentice's hips. "I didn't think..."

"You never do, Jyran." Nurcan growled, and planted her hands on his chest -- pushing him against his low straw bed. "Now be still, and I will take pity on you."

"But, we already..." Jyran complained, though he stopped thrusting and allowed Nurcan to position herself above him as she liked. "...Lorna..."

"Gave me her leave and is currently swollen with your fourth child." Nurcan growled, pivoting herself and struggling to leverage herself across Jyran's body. "She is being entertained by her sister and brother-in-law."

"Surely not?" Jyran found the idea strangely enticing.

"Does it matter? If it were not a problem before you were inside me, nothing has changed."

"Still, if I get you with..."

"You won't, Jyran." Nurcan rolled her eyes. "I've not born a child since you were a boy."

"Still..."

"Yes, be

still

." Nurcan sighed as she found the right spot and thrust downward on Jyran's cock, nesting him into herself fully and relishing the depth of him inside her.

She bent her knees with some difficulty, but she enjoyed the down stroke and slap of flesh as she descended onto him. Nurcan had not been so aroused in nearly ten winters, that she could remember, and her own husband had died nigh six winters past. Now, so thoroughly caught in Prende's magic, Nurcan fought a war with ageless lust and the weariness of her own body. She was not a weak woman, but her knees did not bend as freely as they had in youth, and her back complained at times between thrusts.

"Gods..." Nurcan grunted, grinning and sweating. "I should have never given-up riding horses."

"You

rode

...?"

Nurcan's palm struck Jyran's face so loudly they both stopped in surprise. Eyes wide, they stared at each other in the relative darkness.

"Do that again." Jyran smiled at her, digging his heels and shoulders back to thrust upward forcefully.

Nurcan gave a sly grin and smacked his face again.

"Fuck me, boy." She demanded.

"Yes, Ser." Jyran heaved upward, unseating Nurcan and rolling about to get above her.

Even plowing his hips against her, with her legs spread to either side of him, she had ample room to reach out and strike his face. Then, she dug her heels against his hips, clawed at his chest, bit his lip in a fierce kiss that exchanged little affection. When at last Jyran's face and chest could take no more, he pulled free of her and grabbed her hip -- roughly turning her away from him and mounting her again from behind.

As his balls slapped against her mound, he wondered at the scratching sensation of her coarse hair against his sensitive sack, and thought he might have to find time to do this again -- even after whatever mad spell currently seized them departed.

"Wait." Nurcan grunted, though her body gave no indication she meant it.

"For what, woman?" Jyran struck her haunch with an open palm, eliciting a squeal of delight from Nurcan. "For that?!"

"No!..." Nurcan grunted, and pulled away from Jyran, a sweaty grin through her tousled hair. "Yes, and no..."

"What do you mean?"

"Stay there, or so help me, I'll do more than slap your face." Nurcan sprang from the bed and searched through Jyran's larder, small and spare as most were. Finding what she sought, she gave a triumphant chuckle and strutted back to Jyran's bed.

"This." Nurcan held a small glob of lard with one hand. "No, no!"

She dove down at Jyran's cock and sucked it into her mouth, having seen it softening from her absence.

"Don't you

dare

go soft on me, now." Nurcan snarled lustily up at Jyran, and she smeared the strained grease over the shaft and head of his penis -- a mad gleam in her eyes.

"What are you doing?" Jyran was confused, intrigued, and ready to comply to Nurcan's whim.

"This." Nurcan turned about and gripped Jyran's cock with an iron hand, pulling him to her hips to smash against her pelvis.

With a bit of slipping and squeezing, Nurcan fought Jyran's cock into her ass, releasing a guttural moan that shivered up Jyran's spine as her anus squeezed down on him tighter than he'd ever known possible.

"Oh, fuck..." Jyran grabbed at Nurcan's hips to steady himself, struggling to comprehend and fully enjoy what was happening without spilling his seed just then and risking Nurcan's ire. "I'd heard stories... brothels..."

"Fuck me, boy." Nurcan grabbed Jyran's right hand and tangled it in her hair. "Ride me, and don't stop until I scream."

Rallying to her lust, Jyran answered with a greedy grin and meaty slap of Nurcan's flanks, grinding his hips against her a moment before drawing back and plunging forward again. It was a heat unlike his wife's pussy -- or even the pussy of this same lover -- and an almost imperceptible slipping of flesh to flesh inside her arse that gave his balls reason to swell painfully and slam heavily with his thrusts. Nurcan grunted and growled her approval, his sack slapping deliciously against her mound and sending shivers of pleasure through her as he ravaged her ass. As Jyran pulled her hair with his fist, Nurcan's back arched and her breath caught in her throat.

"Yes." Nurcan gasped, her voice raspy and thick.

"So, you like getting cock in your ass, Nurcan?" Jyran yanked against her hair and she answered with another throaty grunt as his balls slapped wetly against her pussy. "A man could get used to fucking your arse."

He doubled his efforts, rocking his hips with more speed and thrusting with more force. After a dozen or so strokes, he shook his hand free of Nurcan's mane and gripped either side of her broad hips and plunged violently into her. It felt like her ass was beginning to boil around his dick, and his sack ached with readiness. The head of his cock was afire with pleasure, and he was distantly aware of some gritty, firm mass somewhere deep within Nurcan that his cock began to bump into.

"Fuck." Nurcan slumped against the bed, sweating and grunting wordlessly, her grunts raising in pitch to a whining, whimpering sound. "Gods damn it all."

"Not yet, my whore." Jyran slapped her ass as hard as he could, but the shock nearly spilled him from her. Righting himself, he grabbed her hips harder -- and Nurcan yelped. "No, I'm not quite done with you."

"Yes, harder, damn you!" Nurcan's voice rose with the culmination of her own painful orgasm, rising on the grating shaft that split and invaded, stretched and maligned her ass... while prodding and rubbing heavily at that deep place within her that gave such indescribable satisfaction. Another sting of his hand across her ass sparked her over the edge, and she screamed into the bed, shuddering and shaking as Jyran's dick continued to violate her anus. The wet smacking and slapping of his balls pummeled her mound, spreading a warm pleasure under the searing shock-wave of her ecstasy. She clenched, writhed, bucked, and screamed again in feral release.

Jyran, overwhelmed by the noose-like strength around his cock, thought he might never pull free of her, but his hips kept moving and his sack emptied into her bowels. He could smell the filth and grease, mixing with the sweat and stench of their sex as his own orgasm robbed his mind of focus and all that mattered was dumping his seed into her abyss. He, too, cried out and grunted, dripping with sweat from his labors and the powerful heat of her anus on his dick. That moment should have lasted forever, he thought -- or would have -- but Nurcan thrashed below him and twisted, wrenching herself free of his impaling shaft and the bulb of his cock-head.

"Gods!" Nurcan panted, struggling to catch her breath. Her hair was a tangled mop, pasted around her face, and her ass felt ablaze from the fierce fucking Jyran's intrusion had been... as she'd insisted it be... and she felt her guts recoil in satisfied horror at the abuse, threatening to spill their contents right there -- and threatening to never again move properly no matter what.

"I...I..." Jyran fumbled for words and sank backward, slumping down on his side and leaning over the edge of the bed. The stink of shit made him vaguely aware of his posture, and he tried to keep his cock away from the mattress...

Fuck it, it's ruined anyway

. He thought to himself, sagging with pleased fatigue. "I could get used to that."

"You won't." Nurcan wheezed, shifting sideways. "No woman would want that every night... and your cock would rot off."

"What?!" Jyran lurched upward weakly, still spent. "No-one ever said..."

"Don't whine." Nurcan kicked at him with gentle, insistent feet. "But you must wash your cock, now."

"Damn you, witch." Jyran grumbled, struggling to stand and wobbling on weakened knees.

"Hm-hmmm." the elder woman, soft, sagging skin and breasts, chuckled to herself as her younger lover shambled out of his own room and into the night. "Perhaps in a month or so, I will prepare myself for you to fuck me more readily."

Jyran wanted to reply, but the specter of now unknowable rot attacking his loins gave his feet swiftness and he decided it would be better to ask after he was sure that Nurcan's ass wouldn't cause him any lasting harm. The head of his dick was still painfully swollen, even as the shaft went soft, and dark smudges clung to him and gave their foul odor... and his cock pulsed with pride for its work. The night air, warmer than most spring nights but still cool against his skin felt near like ice against the throbbing, angry head of his dick.

"Damn her." Jyran groaned, finally reaching the stream. He took a few bracing breaths as he shook his limbs to prepare himself for a plunge of a much less pleasant sort.

...

"Give me your lips, Jeer." Lorna caressed her husband's cheek, waking him from a pleasant dream. "It's morning, and you have much to do."

"My love." Jyran smiled up at her before sitting-up and kissing her. His cock still ached from his adventures inside Nurcan's ass the night prior, and he hardened at the idea of such an act with his own wife...

"We will have many winter births, Prende has said." Lorna cradled his face and kissed him again, savoring his mouth and wondering if, perhaps even if only in her mind, she could taste some traces of Nurcan there. "Though I think our child will be born before the first freeze."

"How is your sister?" Jyran's mind darted like a frightened deer, trying to escape the wolf of his lust. "I heard..."

"Whatever Nurcan told you..." Lorna blushed brightly, her deep brown hair almost black in the early morning light, her dark eyes sparkling with mischief. "...I assure you it was no less shocking than the number of other girls you've already humped behind my back since Prende arrived."

"Lorna, that's..." Jyran was unable to finish his complaint.

"I love you, Jeer." Lorna licked his lips. "I'm not angry... we're all too hurt to be mad... we all need each other. If you're to be a sorcerer, maybe more of your seed is exactly what South-wold needs right now... besides, Nurcan told me all about it, this morning."

"I... we... she

told

you?" Jyran's mouth flapped like a fish, even as Lorna laughed at him.

"Yes." Lorna crawled over him in the bed, pressing into him and feeling his cock hardening fully beneath her. "Though, it was difficult to understand her meaning fully, with her tongue inside me."

"Lorna!" Jyran's shock was muted by his arousal, and Lorna seized on her momentum. Shoving Jyran backward, she loomed over his dick and gave it a careful inspection, as Nurcan had told her.

"Did you wash yourself, after?" Lorna didn't even look up, admiring the swollen head of Jyran's dick, almost shining with its own light as his hood slid down at the barest coaxing of her hand. "Gods, the smell of you, alone."

"What do you...?" Jyran's mind still rattled with the fragments of conversations she must have had, or intended to have, and all that it entailed.

Lorna dropped her mouth onto the head of his cock with a lusty groan, causing a vibration of painful delight to slide through Jyran's veins, down his cock, into his balls, up to his brain, and down to his toes. His sack offered a tired complaint before continuing its work to make more of its sticky milk, and the head of his cock thrilled to Lorna's attention -- even as it ached like a bruise at the slightest touch.

"Oh, Lorna." Jyran sank against the bed, his hips shifting against her, his face a grimace of pain and pleasure. He grabbed a handful of her dark hair and followed her movements with firm guidance. His wife, not yet showing her pregnancy, shuffled about over him and positioned her hips over her husband's face. Her simple dress was a messy tangle of fabric all around his head, chest and shoulders.

Struggling through the wet, soft, suckling sensation and sound of Lorna's mouth at work on his cock, Jyran fought his way through the mountain of cloth that piled on him to the waiting darkness, heat, and sweat waiting between her thighs. He could smell the earthy, syrupy scent of her, perhaps from her own exploits the night before... or something more recent...