The Arts Ardane: Kampar's Wand
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
This story is erotic fantasy, set in a world of magic.
This tale takes place many years before my core Danica story here on Lit, when Danica was still a teenager and her sister Devan had just reached her majority. This story centers on Devan, who makes only rare appearances for quite some time in the core tale, most of which are just references. This tale continues the molding of Devan from a naive farm girl into the woman she is "today".
This story more or less immediately follows the first Arts Ardane. These tales tell of important turning points in the sisters' lives, and will emerge as inspiration strikes me with respect to one of those turning points.
My world makes use of "modern" measures, which just might distract some people who regularly read fantasy. I hope it doesn't detract too much from the story for the readers, but my world simply refuses to change its stripes, and those are the common measures of the time in my world.
Some just might recognize what the Halfling character Darmok in this story truly is. They're one of my favorite creatures in all the known worlds, and they were quickly imported into my world as soon as I encountered them. For those who understand, hold tight to your belongings and don't "drop" anything ;)
This is an edited version of this tale utilizing what I've learned since starting at Lit, the services of my editor Roust, and feedback from readers. Unlike most of my edits, this one actually makes a few minor changes to the actual storyline. They aren't large, but these changes address criticism brought up by readers about the original draft.
I hope you enjoy this foray into the past of the sisters Ardane.
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Devan rose up from her dirty, aching knees with a groan, picking up the wooden pail full of quickly wilting weeds as she stood.
Half a dozen horses could have stood end to end across the width of the herb patch she had just finished weeding, and it was just as wide in the other direction. If it were not for magic, tenacious, unwanted flora would have taken over the huge herb garden in days. There was no way she and Lorelle could have possibly kept up with it.
Looking around, Devan saw that all the plants were doing well. They grew tall, and flowered or bushed out, as they should, well beyond what was average for each plant.
Devan wiped the sweat away from her brown eyes, glad that it was Lorelle's turn to do the earlier weeding when the sun was near its zenith. A breeze blew a few errant strands of her long red hair into her eye, and she snorted in annoyance as she brushed them away, trying to tuck them back into the scarf she wore over her head.
Devan looked down at the bucket in her hand and sighed. She had studied magic, and left her family's farm for the purpose of avoiding exactly the sort of work she was doing now. As she walked toward the compost pile to dispose of the weeds in her pail, she thought about the last month, which had turned out far different than she had expected it to when she stepped down from her father's wagon into Destindale.
She had a talent for magic, and learned quickly. With plenty of coin in her purse, she had expected to be accepted into one of the two schools here or an apprenticeship quickly. That dream had been dashed on the rocks almost immediately.
She found it impossible to get past the door of the two schools, and it seemed that every wizard worth speaking of in the entire city already had as many apprentices as they could handle. Every time she walked up to one of the schools, they had some excuse why the Master could not see her. She was always told to return later, and it was really starting to irritate her. She had seen other people admitted, and as far as she could tell, they had no special appointments.
Her most recent visit to one of the schools had really set her teeth on edge, because she had overheard one of the senior apprentices speaking about how women had no place working the Art.
Dumping out the weeds, Devan went to the wooden basin near the back door of the herb shop where she lived and worked, to wash up. She thought the dirt ground into her knees was never going to come off, and it felt like washing the sweat from her body was a waste of effort when it coated her as fast as she could wipe it away.
Her blouse was so soaked with sweat that she might as well be wearing nothing at all. The pale, cream-colored cloth was nearly invisible, clinging to her breasts and showing every detail of the firm globes and the small blister-like nipples. She knew it was an unwise choice even as she had put it on, but the remainder of her laundry was still drying at the time, and she had no other option. Fortunately, the shop was far on the outskirts of town, and the fence around the garden would have obscured the view of anyone not looking through a crack or knothole.
Her skirt was likewise soaked, though it at least didn't display her to the world. The hem was filthy from kneeling down while weeding, and she knew without looking that her bottom was outlined in dirt as well, from where she had sat down on several occasions.
She gave up on washing, deciding that getting the worst of the filth off her knees would have to suffice. She planned to get in the bath immediately, anyway. She pulled down a freshly dried skirt, blouse, and panties from the clothes line nearby, careful to avoid letting them touch any part of her that would get them dirty before she even put them on. Opening the plain oaken door to the shop, Devan breathed a sigh of relief when she felt the effects of a Cooling Comfort spell. Lorelle must have cast it when she had gone inside after her shift of weeding.
Devan's nipples hardened in the cool air, pressing tightly against the damp cloth. She shivered and turned into the bath room that was only a step down the short hallway from the back door.
Devan could still feel the effects of the spell in this room, but it was lessened. Lorelle might not have much magic, but what magic she did possess, she had mastered. Laying the Cooling Comfort spell over the entire dwelling and varying the effect it had by location was not an easy task.
Devan lay her clean clothes on a small table near the door, and then stepped around the round tin tub to a narrow door opposite where she had entered. The stove inside was cold, as it was only used to heat water in cooler weather. The barrels inside were full of water, warmed by the heat of the day, and would be the perfect temperature for bathing.
She carried buckets of water to fill the tub, taking care not to step in the trench used to drain it. The tub wasn't large, but it was far too big to carry outside and dump, and thus had to be drained.
Once finished filling the tub, Devan stripped off her dirty clothing and put a fresh towel over the back of the chair that sat near the tub for exactly that purpose. She lay her clean clothing in the seat of the chair where it would likewise be within reach after she finished bathing.
A look of irritation crossed Devan's face when she saw how out of control the hair between her legs was. She usually kept it closely cropped, shaved down to a triangle above her nether lips, the hair surrounding her lips just long enough that it wasn't prickly. Now, she had long stubble everywhere and her triangle was a tangle.
She and Lorelle had been so busy in the shop that Devan simply had not wanted to bother with it for the last week or so. It had been even longer since she had trimmed her triangular patch. She picked up her razor and scissors, laying them on a box sitting next to the tub, which already supported a washcloth and soap.
Stepping into the tub, she reached for the scissors and trimmed the hair down to an acceptable length once again. She put down the scissors, picked up her razor, and then sat down in the tub.
The water was shockingly cold against her sun-warmed skin, and her nipples immediately stiffened. The initial shock only lasted a moment or two, as the water wasn't really that cold. As soon as the shivers died down, Devan stood back up again to shave.
She squatted down when necessary as she shaved her legs and mound, keeping her skin lubricated to avoid irritation from the razor. With practiced skill, she completed the task quickly. She dried the razor off on the washcloth so it would not rust, and then brought the cloth into the tub to wash.
When she stepped from the bath a short while later, she felt refreshed and invigorated. Walking over to a mirror, she parted her legs slightly and made sure she hadn't missed anything as she shaved. Manipulating her labia to make sure she hadn't missed long hairs in the crevices caused her body to tingle.
This was one of the reasons she was ready to make the effort to trim things below today. She hadn’t lain with a man in days, and her body was rebelling. Her first night in town, she had stayed at one of the inns, not feeling like looking for a place to live right away. She had met a handsome merchant in the common room that night, drank far too much wine, and had let him bed her before the night was over.
Contrary to feeling ashamed, Devan had thought the arrangement was perfect. He gave her a wonderful orgasm, and the merchant had continued on his way the next day. No courting, no need for games – it was pure, simple pleasure for them both. The traveling merchants didn't stay around to spread rumors, so as long as she was discreet in her late night encounters, she wouldn't develop a reputation as a tramp in town.
Not that she really would have cared.
Having a clean reputation meant that she could possibly find a decent man or two amongst the locals that could take care of her when no merchants who struck her fancy were around. Thus, she did her best to avoid anyone seeing her going into or coming out of the men's rooms and wagons.
Two relationships ended by the man cheating on her, and the final cruel nail driven into her heart by Serhan bedding her on a bet had killed every romantic thought that had ever nestled in her mind. Men were pigs, and if she didn’t needed more than her fingers between her legs on occasion, she wouldn't even have bothered with them.
She found it easy enough to track down a handsome man with a nice sized cock who could treat her right for one evening, though. She had bedded ten merchants since she had arrived in town, and had her eyes on two or three locals that might just come in handy as well.
Lorelle had no problem with her nocturnal activities. The older woman often came home quite late at night and looked worn out the next morning. The two often discussed their trysts, comparing cock sizes and lovemaking technique between work and customers in the shop.
Lorelle
did
have a reputation as a tramp, and she didn't care.
Devan walked out into the shop to take over watching the counter while Lorelle went into the back to prepare more herbs and spell components to replenish the stores in the front of the shop. Once the sun started to sink low in the horizon, Devan closed down the shop.
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