I'm an old fart. I can remember when the History Channel showed documentaries of historical interest. I can remember when MTV showed music videos. Even further back I can remember when the magic in fantasy fiction actually felt magical--not some obsessively quantified and carefully balanced weapons technology. The story below is attempt to return to those days of yore...
Speaking of olden times, this story was one I discovered incomplete when I was going through some old media. If you pay attention, you will see where the quotation marks change, and you will know where I picked the story up again.
Regardless, please enjoy my humble tale.
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Luce and Her New Lover
(c) 2023 by Ted Ursi, all rights reserved.
"Tell me a story," Luce asked her new lover.
Miztal the sorcerer picked his head up off the pillow and looked down his body at Luce where she had just taken his penis from her mouth to make this latest request. He quirked one eyebrow at her. She smiled and licked him once with her long tongue. "Tell me a story while I suck you. Something with dark magic and exotic erotic love. The longer the story, the longer I will pleasure you."
Luce had not taken a lover for some time. The upper class men of the city, all those of consequence, were known to her and she found them wanting. Mostly wanting her late husband's fortune.
Lately, when she wished to go out but also wished to avoid her usual set, would take lunch at the far south end of the city at the Inn of the Blue Stones. This was a rambling concatenation of several buildings of differing styles one of which had a long, low roof serving as a veranda overlooking the South Gate Market and its eponymous gate.
Luce was taking a leisurely lunch of chilled star fruit and a light fizzy pink wine when she saw a gray skinned man riding in through the gate on a fine but skittish roan mare. The stranger calmed the horse with a quite word and an affectionate stroke of his hand on her neck.
Luce had been intrigued.
She saw that, from where she sat, his skin looked exactly gray. Not the gray of a exhausted traveler but the actual color of mixed black and white. His nose was straight in the manner of the desert people but his eyes were blue like a Northlander with the little fold over each eye she had seen on travelers from the east. He was dressed all in black but the hot sun seemed not to discomfort him at all.
When she saw that the stranger intended to dismount at the Inn of Blue Stones, she hurriedly took the opportunity to encounter him at the entry of the inn. He was perhaps a little bit shorter than herself but well proportioned and moved with an easy grace. When they collided completely at Luce's contrivance, he held her with small but very strong hands a moment and then released her. Those hands, and indeed his face, were covered with tiny white glyphs of some arcane language over very dark skin.
"Oh sir, have you been cursed by some vile witch?" Luce asked.
"Cursed Lady?" His smile gleamed at her in an almost frightening way.
"Those markings?" Luce reached out to almost touch his cheek.
"These?" He held up a hand, the marks covered his palms as well. His smile became entirely natural and boyish. "These are my power."
He took Luce's hand in his and held it. She felt a tingling to her elbow. "I am Miztal, a magician of some small ability. I am new to your city."
"I have never met a powerful mage before."
"Perhaps none that you know of. Could we sit somewhere that we may refresh ourselves and I may grow wiser of this town in your knowledgeable presence."
"No lady could refuse such a pitiable request for enlightenment. Come, I have a table."
Things had progressed smoothly from there to this point a few days later they now lay on the large bed in the best rooms of the Inn of Blue Stones enjoying an afternoon abandoned completely to lust. Luce had been startled but also intrigued to learn that Miztal's body was entirely covered with the white runes. Not only that, but they moved. It was hard to notice because they usually moved so slowly. Searching in vain to find a place not covered by the marks had led to Luce attempting to see if the marks licked away with her tongue. So far they resisted her every effort. Some even seemed to scoot out of her way. But it had been fun to try.
"I can tell you a hundred stories," Miztal said. "Perhaps a thousand."
Luce popped her cheek with his stiff penis and said "One will be enough--for now."
Miztal began his tale....
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There is a desert far to the south that is tedious to cross. I normally cross it wearing magic boots that allow me to achieve seven leagues of travel with each step. To go that distance, each stride would take me high into the air, of course.
One day I was hurrying along to some business in the east and not paying as much mind as I should. I knew in those parts there was a powerful witch called the Spider Queen.
(At this point Luce gave off her sucking long enough to ask if the Spider Queen had eight legs.)
No, she had the usual number of limbs arranged normally, but she could scale the rocks of that place with the ease of a spider. The region was noted for its many flat topped towers of bright red and orange stone. The natives have a word for them that escapes me at the moment.
Passing near one of these in early afternoon I found myself snatched from the air in mid-stride and slammed against the face of the rock. This stunned me and the next thing I knew I was spread against the face like a victim against the wall of a torture chamber. I must have been a thousand feet above the valley floor. The sun was on my left and descending close to the horizon so I must have been senseless for several hours.
As I pondered my situation I heard a scrabbling noise above my head. I looked up and saw a strange woman sitting on the vertical face of the tower as easily as you or I would sit on a carpet. She was naked. Her skin was a deep coppery tone. Her hair was a wild and frizzy orange. Her eyes were green. Her breasts drooped somewhat like that of a woman just entering middle years but the nipples were small and regular as if they had never been suckled. By civilized standards, she was a bit on the hairy side, but not horridly so. In fact, she might be considered comely if met clothed in the street in a civilized place. But at the moment I confess I found her disconcerting under those conditions. She had a curved dagger in her hand.
"I am honored to finally meet you, oh Spider Queen," I said. She did not reply. Instead she crawled down the rock as easily as you please until she was near my side.
"If there is some perceived transgression I assure you it was wholly unintentional," I said. "I will be happy to make amends."
Again she didn't reply. She pulled my tunic away from my chest and began sawing away at the collar. When she cut through that she clutched the dagger in her teeth and with both hands ripped my tunic asunder.
"That was very expensive!" I began but thought better of continuing.
