Warlock Ch 03 1

The aftermath of the ambush by bandits. John has to decide what to do with the prisoner he took. Beneath the dirt and injuries she has a surprise for him.

"Well done! I wasn't sure you'd survive," Zynga said as she walked out of the darkness toward the campfire John had rebuilt.

John scowled at the imp in the guise of a halfling. "If you were so worried, why didn't you help?"

She tilted her head and huffed, the action making her proportionally enormous breasts nearly spill out of her dress. "I did help, Master. Or did you think those flashes of intuition came from you?"

John hesitated and then nodded. "All right. Tell me more."

"More?"

"Yes, I've been so caught up in trying to use my new abilities to provide tributes to Mistress I lost sight of what else I can do now. These infernal flames... they don't hurt but they seemed to blind?"

"Oh, they hurt," Zynga said. "It's a magical ache, not a physical one. And yes, cover their eyes in flames and they can't see. They steal whatever they touch and send it to the abyss. Sight, touch, smell, whatever sense that is covered will be sent to the darker realms and devoured by whatever first comes upon it."

John raised an eyebrow. "Oh... and when I covered myself in it? I could still see."

"Yes, when you wrap yourself in the infernal flames they just look terrifying. It's a good look on you, I liked it."

"You saw me?" he scoffed.

"I was hiding, but close by. You can see me know, you know, you just have to focus. You could have probably seen them too."

"I did see the thieves before they set on me," he reminded her.

"Yes, you did, but only because you can posses demon sight now and can see in the dark. Use the magic, you can see warmth or even magical or supernatural things."

John closed his eyes and focused on his magic. He studied it and then moved it to his eyes, energizing them with power. When he opened them the fire nearly blinded him with its heat. He turned away and looked to Zynga. She had a dark glow about her, which seemed counter-intuitive since she did indeed glow and stand out even though she was lit up with an anti-light.

John closed his eyes and pulled the magic from his eyes. When he opened them again the world looked as it had: unnaturally bright for the late hour but otherwise normal.

"Anything else? I've heard of demons blasting things with fire and lightning, among other things."

"Your power comes from Mistress and she has forever been most skilled with seduction, charm, and illusions. Some enchantments as well."

John nodded. "That fits with what I've done. So I can't incinerate an army with hellfire?"

Zynga snorted. "What fun would that be?"

John glanced at his stomach where he'd been stabbed and no had a sore purple scar with a fresh bruise around it. "I'm less interested in fun than in not being stabbed again."

"Then you need to learn to fight better. That or learn to fuck better."

"Fuck better? How is that going to help?"

"You're powerful enough, you could probably have seduced more of them."

John stared at her for a long moment. He shook his head and looked away. "Yeah... sorry, I'm not bent that way. No offense to any who are, but not me."

Zynga shrugged. "I would have enjoyed watching that too, but no matter."

"You're a deranged thing, aren't you?"

Zynga grinned.

He sighed. "All right, so I need to learn to fight and I need to redouble my efforts with learning traditional magic. Oh, and practicing more with my infernal powers."

"You forgot her," Zynga said.

John followed her eyes to the bound woman sleeping on the far side of the far. "Yes, her."

"You should try something new with this one," Zynga suggested while rubbing her hands together.

"New? I've done everything there is to do, haven't I?"

The imp's eyes gleamed. "Fuck her to death! Keep her going until she gives you the last of her life."

John closed his eyes and shook his head. "No. I... no, never."

"She tried to kill you, Master. Or she would have if you hadn't charmed her. She deserves to die like the others. So you killed them with your spear, do the same to her... just use a different spear."

John frowned.

Zynga clapped her hands, "Ooh, you're thinking about it!"

"No!" John snapped. "Not about doing that, anyhow. I am considering killing her, just not like that."

"Why not? Waste of opportunity if you ask me. Death is death. You'll take her soul either way. Have a little fun while you're at it! There's not a succubus or incubus alive that hasn't done it. In fact, it's quite common."

"I'm not an incubus! I'm a warlock, remember? And if she is to die, she'll die by my hand, not by my... you know..."

"Cock?"

He sighed. "Yes, that."

Zynga shrugged. "Pity, but it's your call, Master. I'm only here to offer good advice."

"Well, advice, anyway," John corrected her.

She winked at him.

John climbed to his feet and walked over to the woman. He knelt down beside her and gave her a gentle shake. She didn't move. He tried again, rougher, but still she slept on. John frowned and checked her head where her former companion had smacked her with the burning log. Her hair was burnt and blisters marked the bruised patch of skin behind her ear.

John paused and looked at her ear closer. It was longer and more slender than he expected it to be. So long, in fact, that it rose to a rounded point. It wasn't as pronounced as Zynga's ear in her halfing guise -- and nothing like her sharply pointed ears in her true form, but it had enough of a point to tell him she had some sort of fey blood in her.

John studied her face next. She was dirty and her cheek had a cut that had long scabbed over and dried. The cut would need stitches to heal properly. Aside from that she was a pretty woman. A pretty woman with delicate cheekbones and thing eyebrows. This was no farm girl, she was something else. Something perhaps not even entirely human.

On top of being pretty, she was dangerous too. She'd shown she wasn't afraid to fight or to take on someone bigger and stronger than she was.

John pulled his water flask up and removed the stopper. He splashed some water on her face and watched her sputter and blink. She struggled, trying to bring a hand to her face before she winced and stared up at him. Her eyes darted around, focusing rapidly and taking in Zynga and the campfire before returning to him.

"You killed them?" she asked.

"Yes," John said.

"Not me? Why. You plan to have your way with me and then cut my throat?"

John studied her and said, "I did kill your friends... and I couldn't have done it without you."

She turned her head to spit on the ground. Her mouth was too dry and most of the spit dribbled down her chin instead. "Trevor was a pig. Terrence a fool and a coward. Azamos... he was a good man, once."

"What about you?" John asked. "Where you a good woman once?"

She snorted. "A disappointment, more like. I wouldn't be married off to let some man between my legs so I could bear him sons while he ran off whoring and fighting."

"And what about the others, what would they say about you?"

"Pain in the ass, but I was good with a crossbow and they knew better than to expect the wrong sort of thing from me. I cut a man's cock clean off for trying that, once."

John winced in spite of himself.

"I remember... I wanted you like I never wanted no man before. You done that to me?"

John nodded.

"You said you was a wizard?"

"I am a wizard, but I'm also a warlock."

Her brow creased. "What's the difference?"

"It's complicated," John said.

She shrugged. "I'm bound and fit to die when we're done, no doubt. Indulge me."

John studied her. "You're a peculiar one, aren't you? Most people shy away from magic, you seem interested."

"Another reason my parents disowned me, I'm too damned curious for my own good."

John grunted. "All right. A wizard learns spell formulae and patterns to draw magic into the world from the aether and create specific effects. These takes gestures and words and sometimes must also be grounded in physical components. A warlock is granted power from a... a powerful being that they have sworn an oath to. This pact grants them a gift of magic that they may use, provided they obey the agreement."

"You're both?" she asked.

He nodded.

"So you're sworn to some greater being? What, like a saint or a something?"

John chuckled. "No, that would be a priest. I suppose there's not a large difference between a warlock and a priest, now that you mention it."

"Then what... you worship a dragon or something? Maybe some scary fey power from a dark forest no man's dared to enter for ages?"

"Something like that," John said. "A powerful being not from this world."

She grunted and nodded. Her eyes went to Zynga. "Who's that?"

Zynga grinned and waved a tiny hand.

"That's Zynga. She's my assistant," he said.

"Didn't see her earlier."

"No, she wandered away to relieve herself and then hid when she heard the fighting. She's a bit of a coward herself."

"Hey!"

John ignored the imp.

"What is she, a halfling? Never seen one before. She don't look like much. Probably for the best, she wouldn't be worth a damn in a fight."

John chuckled. "She has her uses, limited though they are."

"I'll show you my uses," Zynga muttered behind him.

"So, Arty, tell me— what is it?"

"That name. I hate it. Only that ass Trevor called me that."

"What is your name then?"

"Artesia," she said.

"Just Artesia?"

"Yes."

John nodded. "All right, Artesia, what should I do with you?"

"If I were you I'd kill me."

"Why is that?"

"Because you don't know me. You don't know if I'm lying about the others. Maybe I'll get more friends and come after you. Maybe I'll try to escape and kill you in your sleep. Your life is easier if I'm not in it and not a threat to it."

John looked at Zynga and then back to Artesia. "Is Zynga coaching you?"

Her brow furrowed again. "No, why?"

"Sounds like something she would say," he muttered. "Okay. What would you prefer I do? I'm not afraid to kill, mind you, just ask your friends. I'd rather not though, not unless it's earned."

"I came with them to rob you," she pointed out.

"Are you trying to end up with your throat cut?"

She smiled and winced as the movement reopened the cut on her cheek. "No, just being practical. I'd rather you didn't kill me, of course, but beyond that I don't know. I mean... I wronged you and by all rights, my life's in your hands."

"More than that," John said. He smiled and summoned up a dark flame that surrounded his hand.

Her eyes widened. She nodded. "You don't need to scare me, I'm your prisoner to do with as you please."

John dismissed the flame. "Do I scare you?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"Good. You should be. You said I could do with you as I wish... what if I wish to spread your legs?"

"I would fight you," she said.

"But you said—"

"And you can, but I'll fight that. You'll either kill me or knock me out. I won't agree to that."

"You said you remember wanting me before... I could do that to you again."

She nodded. "You could. That's the only way."

John glanced at Zynga. The imp grinned. He turned back to her. "I need to ask a few more questions," he said.

She shrugged. "Longer I talk, longer I'm still breathing."

He smirked. "When I used my magic on you before you resisted me. Why is that?"

"You're the warlock, you tell me," she said. "I could feel something unnatural about you. Like I wanted you. That didn't sit right with me. Wasn't right, I knew."

"You don't like men?" Zynga asked.

"I don't know, never been with one," Artesia said. "Never needed one, more like."

"Women?" Zynga asked.

"Never been interested in them either."

Zynga harrumphed and said, "You're missing out, girlfriend."

John spared the strange imp a glance. "Girlfriend?"

Zynga waved him away.

"All right," John said as he turned around. "But then my magic worked."

She blushed. "Yes. I wasn't aching to throw my legs up in the air, but I wasn't going to let them kill you neither."

"Interesting," John mused. "Next question... what are you?"

She frowned and said, "What do you mean?"

"Your ears. Your face. Maybe more, I don't know. You're not all human. I've never seen anyone like you, but I feel like... well, I used to know a great deal more than I do now. I feel like I've heard of people like you before."

"You're asking me questions and you don't know what you don't know?"

John chuckled. "No, I suppose I don't. That's part of my quest, to discover what happened to me."

"What do you think happened?"

John smiled. "We're here to talk about you, not me."

She shrugged. "Okay, so what? I'm me. I don't know why I got these cursed ears, I just do. My parents was human."

"Was?"

"Is."

"Are," John corrected.

"What— oh."

"Well, you're something special. My guess is half elf."

"My parents was both human."

John realized he wasn't getting anywhere with her, even though the evidence was obvious. He decided to let it go for now. He was getting an idea on what to do with her. "You're my prisoner," he pointed out.

She nodded.

"You're life is mine to do with as I please."

She watched him, waiting for him to pronounce his judgment.

"I don't know how to fight," John said. "I have my magic, but that's not so simple a thing to use when people are stabbing me. I need someone to teach me and to guard me."

She raised an eyebrow.

"I also need someone else that can drive my wagon," he said. "Perhaps more... Zynga has unique talents but is a poor assistant."

"Cook and clean after you too, I expect?"

John shrugged. "Perhaps."

She grunted.

"Is that a yes?"

She frowned. "Are you asking?"

"I want to make sure you won't run away in the night or try to cut my throat in my sleep. Oh, I should warn you, I don't sleep very much. A benefit of being a warlock."

Zynga snickered. He didn't need much sleep because of his demon blood, not because he was a warlock. Of course he wouldn't have demon blood if it weren't for him being a warlock. It was a nice twist of truth that she enjoyed.

"Yes. Of course I'll say yes."

"Otherwise I kill you?"

"That's right."

"So you might be lying."

"Might be," she said. "I'm not, but maybe I am. You won't know until I'm gone or I'm not."

"I can't argue that simple logic," John admitted. "What can I do offer to sweeten the deal? My pockets are light but after I sell your friends goods I can offer you a wage. I'll offer you protection too. My Mistress is very powerful and I have my own powers which you know are not inconsiderate."

She studied him and considered his offer. Finally she said, "One other thing."

Zynga hissed behind him.

"What?" he asked.

"I teach you to fight, you teach me magic."

John blinked. "Magic? You mean... to be a wizard?"

"Maybe not that much but some, at least. Maybe it's for me? Maybe not. I always wondered."

John glanced at Zynga. She turned away and was taken a dagger to her nails and scraping them clean. He did a double take when he realized she was scraping red paint off them. Paint! He'd never noticed her nails being painted. Then again, he didn't really pay much attention to her either.

He turned back to her and reached up to draw his dagger from his arm sheath. He grabbed Artesia by the elbow and push her over onto her side. He held the knife the rope he'd tied her hands with and sawed at it a moment to cut it loose.

John let her go and stood up. He crossed over to the pile of equipment he'd taken from the dead and from Artesia and drew out a dagger. He tossed it to the ground beside her and nodded. "Cut your legs free then move all these to my wagon. Don't arm yourself or I'll turn you into a frog."

"You can do that?" she gasped.

John smirked. "Do you really want to find out?"

Artesia's lip curved up into a lopsided smile, thanks to the leaking cut in her cheek. "Yes, milord. Does your magic work to mend cuts?"

"Only my own," John said. "And it is very taxing."

She grunted and sawed through the ropes on her ankles. She looked at the dagger in her hand and then rose to her feet and made her way to the pile of equipment. She poked it around before gathering some of the weapons and taking them to the wagon. It took her three trips to load it all and then she retrieved a pouch from it and returned to the fire.

She held the pouch up and opened it. She pulled out a curved needle and the thread and asked, "Mind if I use this?"

John frowned. Not out of concern that she'd stab him to death with the needle but because of how difficult it looked. "Can you do that to yourself?"

She shrugged. "I'm sure. Might not be pretty, but a few scars might help more men get the idea that I'm not interested."

John held out his hand and asked, "Here, let me do it."

She shrugged and handed it over. "Probably ought to wash it out first."

"That I can do," John said and he held up his hand. He twirled his fingers and sent his magic to spiral around her body and leave her as fresh as if she'd just bathed.

Artesia gasped. She swallowed and chuckled. "That tickled!"

John tilted his head. "It did?"

"Wasn't it supposed to? I feel... better," she said and then tucked her head down and sniffed her armpit. She jerked her head up, "I thought so... I'm clean!"

John grimaced. "Yes... um, that's what I did. Now your wounds are clean and shouldn't fester."

She studied his face for a moment before saying, "Thank you."

"Wouldn't do me much good to end up needing to take care of the person that's supposed to be taking care of me, would it?"

"I suppose not."

"Good, now kneel beside me... turn a bit... there. I expect this will sting."

"I expect it will," she agreed while John threaded the needle and set about stitching the gash in her cheek shut.

A few minutes later he tied the thread and cut it with his dagger. He looked at it and nodded. "My first attempt at sewing, I think."

"You think?" she asked as she stood up. She reached up and ran her fingers over it. "It feels well enough. Close, tight stitches."

"Good. Do you know horses?"

"Yes."

"Good. Tend to mine. I didn't have a chance before I was attacked."

She winced. "I'll see to it."

John nodded. "Good. If you need me, I'll be in the wagon."

"In the wagon?"

"I study and sleep there," he explained.

"Warmer by the fire."

"My magic keeps me warm... or cool, as I need it," he explained. It wasn't a lie, but it was his new nature that Mistress had given him that helped him shrug off warm or cool temperatures.

"I'll start on the horse then... does it have a name?"

John looked at the gelding and frowned. "The stable master never told me."

She snorted. "Talas, right?"

John nodded.

"He's a halfwit who only cares about the coin he can cheat people out of so he can turn and spend it on wine and whores," she said.

"I wondered if he'd charged me a fair price."

"He didn't," she said. "I'll sort out a name for him. Oh, and... thank you, my lord."

John raised an eyebrow.

"For sparing me," she said. "Both my life and... the only honor I've got left."

John chuckled. "Don't thank me yet, I have a tendency to get in over my head and get my friends, hurt, killed, or imprisoned."

"No worries then, my lord, you're paying me to be your servant, not your friend."

John turned and walked back to the wagon, chuckling all the way. Maybe she didn't want to be his friend but he had to admit, he was liking her more by the minute. Pity she had no interest in spreading her legs for him... although he could fix that easily enough if he wanted to.

John rolled out his bedroll and then looked at the locked chest. He needed to study and relearn more from those spell books. He also needed to practice and learn if there as more he could do with his infernal magic. Then again, he promised Artesia he'd teach her some magic and he couldn't teach her the infernal magic, only traditional formulaic magic.