The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Neral made her way through the tunnels under her own home, the twists and turns of them known since childhood when she and her sisters used to play in the narrow halls and spaces. In the feudal days they were simply paths of escape for a family under siege by another. Over generations, when that became less likely, some of the corridors were widened and some of the hiding spaces were opened up into rooms to use. These things were done still with an eye to keeping things confusing for an intruder, and arguably they were now more so with the way remodeling them created new hiding spaces and how those could be tied to dead ends or different paths. That’s what made it an adventure to be down here as a child.

Now she moved quickly to the rooms that Deres had claimed as a meditative and research space, past one blind pathway and through another, making her way west. Finding them, she opened the door into a set of rooms that contained his ties to his adopted home. This room was the largest of the three, the smooth floor that reminded her of white marble, but, he had explained once, was one of the many building materials that were created with science and nudged by magic that could be grown to suit any need. The floor was marked with an intricate glyph that only an Adaran mage could activate in order to access the city they called home.

The room was lit with diamond-shaped devices, evenly spaced, that also seemed part of the wall and gave off no heat to the touch. In it’s own way these spaces were more elegant than the castle. Here was a piece of that world beyond hers. The door closed behind her and she took the path to the left which led to his own small study that reminded her of her own, as he had his own love of books, but she knew it had more of that technology that was well beyond her. She found her two standing in the midst of conversation as she interrupted with the only thought on her mind. “You’ve said you have something?”

“Well, no,” Deres admitted, though his voice didn’t lose a hint of excitement., “but a path to something. Maybe.”

She shifted her weight in agitation. She wasn’t fond of the uncertainty, but he was certain he had something worthwhile, so she went with it. “Show me what have.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a smile.

She just then recognized her tone and blushed before clearing her throat, “Apologies.”

“That’s all right. I usually enjoy it when you’re bossy.” The answer came with an example of the technology that was barely comprehensible to her even that it worked, much less how. His index finger ran a rune over the upper right corner and the top of the desk displayed pages from the mage records. Neral saw them as if they were before her, from the weathered color of the parchment to the practiced, precision entry of codes in various types of penmanship, with their translations next to the entries. He could enlarge the pages or entries, move them about and even link items within them.

Nine pages spread out. “Of those in the outlaw entries the guilds provided, nine of them studied the arts as our target has. Of those, two are dead.”

“Are you sure?”

Bryana looked to Neral, “No, but they are marked so.” She answered the question that she saw in Neral’s eyes before she could ask it, “Yes, it is possible those entries are false for whatever reason, but I must assume them dead unless I can conclusively prove otherwise. I cannot go to the conclave and call any of them liars before the other members without absolute proof.” She softened in sympathy because she shared Neral’s ache for revenge. “As Queen Evaline no doubt explained to you recently, politics is not an easy thing.”

“Smashing skulls and stabbing people is so much simpler.”

With a flick of his finger, they disappeared. “That leaves seven. Of that seven, only two of them have ties to Strannix through the ledger or the club via Harken” he pointed to each one as he spoke, “Lenobis is, by all accounts, now a traveling healer. It’s an easy way to make a passable living if you’ve got the skill and have no one to claim you. Strannix has used him to heal some of the more unsavory people around him.”

Bryana looked at the name. “He seems to be just what he appears though I keep him as a suspect because, like anyone with power, a ‘passable’ living might stop being enough.”

“Though Harken and Strannix haven’t called on him recently.” Deres flicked him away, “One Harken likes to use for himself, without his employer’s knowledge for all sorts of things, but he hasn’t contacted or paid that person recently, and Harken’s memory is clear that this person had nothing to do with it.”

Neral knew Anna did what she’d set out to do. Everything he had done and known in the whole of his life had been copied, save the essence of him and, when the time came he too would add his voice to those before court who could no longer live with covering for or profiting from Strannix “Keep going.”

“That’s where the direct trail stops.”

“Then why do you seem so excited by nothing?”

“Because Mr. Harken, manager of the club had something.” More rune drawing on the desk before he reached to the table behind him, taking the crystal that was there. When he placed it on the table, a soft tone could be heard. Deres kept his hand on it and she saw his eyes move as though he were reading and seeking something. When he looked down at the table she followed suit and she saw hurried movement from what she assumed was Harken as he wrote a note called the name of a harried young man. When that young man hustled across the club and met him, Harken handed him that slip of paper. She saw it all as though she were the one doing it. “Get this to Rostal.” After the order, the young man bolted as though on fire and the image froze.

“Rostal village?” she wondered. Many small villages and towns without much else to trade served as hubs for information and contraband of all kinds.

Bryana explained. “Hubs shift from time to time in terms of what they carry and who they deal with. Old ones die because the merchant who serves as the contact died and new ones form elsewhere because the priestess needs the money to feed the orphans in her care. This one is new enough that it hadn’t found the guilds’ notice yet. In fact, it may have been cultivated to be an exclusive pathway for Strannix or those like him so they could do their business with no one knowing...at least until a new path had to be found.”

Deres pressed on “Enough money moved to pay for this within weeks of the event and it moved through Rostal, so somewhere around Rostal is the person we seek, or another step on the path to them.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe,” he agreed.

She thought she saw the endgame and she admitted to herself that she did taste the excitement of a trail, “So, are you asking me to invade Rostal, or are you looking for permission from me to do it yourselves.”

“As fun as that would be, dearest, no.” Bryana smiled at the thought. “We use a lure and see who shows up to take it.”

Deres spoke as he gestured for his two to follow as he led them to the other main chamber here that served as the storage and experimentation space. The room lit as they entered. It was cool and clean and Neral knew that any scientist in the kingdom would recognize it as a laboratory to explore the mysteries of the universe, even if they didn’t understand most of the equipment they saw. “And what gift do you give to the alchemist mage?”

At the back of that was another room divided by a door that could not be seen until he stepped to it. A gap formed as a thin vertical line from the floor upward before it smoothly became horizontal and that section of the wall slid back with barely a sound. Behind it was an expansive garden area. Plants and flowers lined the walls and filled the tables that stood in long columns that ran the room’s length. Khylen loved being here with her father, learning about how important they were for their place in the world and how they could be important for a mage’s work and Neral found liked learning those lessons herself. He was an enthusiastic and thorough teacher.

Each plant that had more particular needs was within its own circular enclosure, and that enclosure could be tuned to and provide any climate need. Some of the plants couldn’t be seen beyond their rough features because they were cradled within recreations of the noxious soup that comprised the atmosphere of much of the wastes beyond the mountains.

He walked them back to the middle of the room and stopped before several rather delicate looking dark purple flowers in stone pots, the color darkening to black at the tips of four spear-shaped petals that protected a fleshy pink center filled with a dozen nodes around the stamen, each holding a globule of liquid as it sat in a stone pot “You give them something they can’t get anywhere else.” He reverently ran a finger across the petal. You give them a Storchere. Adar still cultivates them.” He pointed to the nodules. “Each of these contains a powerful hallucinogenic that has any number of uses on its own and combines easily with any number of other chemicals, and, with magic, many others with varying effects.”

“Adar still cultivates them, but they were rare in the world to begin with. They were rare, sought after, fought over, and now virtually extinct on the continent. The few that have them do not share the information, as they are worth more than their weight in gold. There’s no way the person we seek passes it up and when they come for it. Then...”

“We take them.”

“I can handle it, Bryana” Deres said firmly. You have something else to do anyway.”

“Which can and will wait. If you think I will pass up the chance to get my hands on someone responsible for this...” Her hands balled into fists already prepared to pummel the life out of someone that, at the moment, still only existed as a phantom in her mind.

Neral’s tone was ice. She had kept tight rein on her anger since this happened and she’d had pride in that. She could sympathize with Deres’s frustrations and help temper them, but, at the moment , it was the unfamiliar feelings of envy and jealousy that broke through her inner armor. Either or both of them were to be the first to strike in vengeance for the attack upon her family. It had to be them because she lacked the skills that needed to be brought to bear. “I don’t care who goes or how it gets done, just be sure that they don’t slip through your fingers or we’ll probably never find them again no matter how much bait you put out.”

“There won’t be any mistakes, Neral.”

She took the hand he offered and squeezed more tightly than she’d intended, though he seemed untroubled by it. “When you find them, Deres.” She locked eyes with Bryana as well, hoping to convey everything that was roiling within before she bound it again, “I know you need them, so do whatever you have to do. If you end them afterwards, I don’t care. If you think you can make use of them so you want to keep them around after you’re done, I don’t care. If you want to melt them into personal toys, I don’t care.” To be taken from herself like that and deprived of all she once was would be like a fate worse than death to Neral, so it actually had some appeal to think it might be inflicted upon them.

“But break them. And make sure they know why. I want to know that they know just how much their treachery has cost them.”

“They’ll know.” He’d made that promise to himself already.

“You sound like old me.”

Anger gave way to embarrassment for Neral, who suddenly found some of the plants off to the side very interesting. She screwed her courage and looked back to her other as Bryana seemed to read her mind.

“It’s all right that being compared to her shames you. She still shames me, and one of the hardest things for me to accept these days is that sometimes that ball of rage in the pit of your stomach that demands you lash out mercilessly is perfectly appropriate. Your targets are appropriate and they probably always have been whereas my targets used to be almost anyone, many of them innocent, or certainly not so guilty as to warrant the full wrath I inflicted. Accept it now, Neral, because they deserve it.”

The words and the feelings behind them reinforced her armor once again. That, and she felt better after giving the rage voice and, yes, accepting that it was a part of her. She wasn’t used to feeling those sensations outside of the battlefield and she’d been able to shed them once the heat of battle had faded. It was a weighty burden to bear for so long.

“Go set your trap.”

Arik traced a path from one tavern and inn to the next in the loop of towns that he knew she favored. It was no easy thing to find her because Sylanna preferred her anonymity. That’s one of the things that made her useful for any job. Few people even knew her actual appearance as she changed it like other women changed clothes. The other was that she was supremely gifted in her specialty. Scores of people had simply gone to sleep and not woken up because of her with no trace left behind. Just as many minds had been corrupted in innumerable ways by her to meet any number of needs put forth by her clients.

And she was reliable in any triad. If she had a role to play, he could rest assured that her end would be held up. It was why he liked her as much as either of them could like anyone. An outlaw mage’s life was a lonely one. Step beyond a guild’s morality that usually shifted based solely on who made their way to the position of Master or Mistress and you were driven out. After that, you had to stay out of their reach, lest you step on their territories and then, when ‘excommunicated’ turned into ‘enemy’, it often ended badly.

So they stayed outside of those who were already on the outside, doing work that often even the guilds were beneath. In that way, Arik decided long ago that banishment was liberation. He had used that freedom to build his power and his wealth. Very little else mattered in the world and that’s what put him on the hunt for her once again. He knew her haunts as few others did, but, depending upon other work she might be doing it could take time to find her even if Arik left an urgent message in the usual way, which he had.

When he entered the small tavern he gave a small praise to the Goddess, as, in a back corner of the room, sat a woman with the shimmer of magic around her that only another mage could recognize. What told him it was her was that their wasn’t much of a shimmer. Her appearance spells were among her most practiced and she could keep the energy very tightly contained. Also, he had seen enough of her guises that he could pick up some familiar features that she liked to use. There was also that, when she saw him come through the door and their eyes met, hers rolled away from him. Weaving around the tables he slid into the chair opposite her. He examined her plate of vegetables and what looked to be a very juicy chop, which reminded him that he hadn’t eaten for too much of the day. “Oh, that looks good. Does it taste as good as it looks?”

Her knife slid across the plate and she plucked the piece of meat up with her fork and popped it in her mouth. “No.”

“It doesn’t?” He genuinely sounded sad even though his mouth still watered over it. “It looks so good though.”

“No. My dinner is fine. I mean, no, I’m not looking for new business to do right now.”

“But the old business isn’t done yet.

“Yes, it is. You paid me to make a deliveries to Erette. I made said deliveries. That’s the end of it.”

“But the goods were unsatisfactory.”

She always did like his features even if she did look upon them now with just a hint of disdain. His white hair and beard were always well kept and his piercing gray eyes contrasted in a way that was harsh, but she supposed could be captivating if she wanted to use him for such things. “I don’t hate to keep disagreeing with you, even though it is a bit tedious, but, again, no. The results may have been unsatisfactory, but, if use of the goods delivered as promised didn’t deliver exactly the results desired, that is a matter of fate. So the client can take it up with the Goddess.”

He tried to see if he could provoke a reaction if nothing else. Maybe he could appeal to her pride. “No, the results weren’t what was desired. They weren’t what was desired and you run away before the job is done.”

She spoke to him as she would a child which massaged his own ire. “Again, if I deliver a blade to your exacting specifications and you lop off your own finger with it, it’s not the fault of the blade. Tell the client I’m done and am taking a break. Besides, since the results weren’t exactly what was desired, it’s best for him and all involved to take a break until the market is less tense. His rush to make this happen is part of why he didn’t get the results that he was seeking.”

“Would it be possible for me to have a bite? I’m absolutely famished.”

Sylanna was annoyed at the imposition, but at least he was civil in the asking. She cut a piece away and let it rest on the edge of the plate and he popped it into his mouth. The meat was peppery and succulent with the perfect amount of marbling, and his stomach growled for more. “That is as delicious as it looks. Anyway, the results weren’t what the client anticipated so he wants us to continue the work until he gets what he wants.”

“Clients are often like that. Put him in touch with people willing to work with him.”

“He wants the people he’s worked with because we understand the situation. He’s willing to pay so long as the ship is righted in the end as he wishes it to be.”

“Look, all the client needs for you to do is to convince him that you can right the ship, so create a fresh triad, and get it done ‘as he wishes it to be.’” Her voice found the slightest edge. “You should tell him to listen to the people he hires next time. I told you things were progressing far too quickly.”

He threw his hands up. “I passed on your concerns, which I agreed with, by the way. I made a full-throated argument for exactly that, but clients want what they want.”

“And I have known you to dismiss clients if they aren’t willing to follow advice. This one’s pockets must be very deep.”

“Among the deepest. So deep in fact that he wants us to meet him at the old mill in Faes Valley in ten days.”

Civility all but evaporated. The fact that he made the statement at all, much less as if it were a possibility, earned her ire. “And I have intermediaries. I will never lead a triad because I have no desire to meet clients directly, and you have now given me even less reason to entertain you. She pushed her plate forward. “I’ll be leaving, so you’re welcome to it. If I ever want to work with you again I’ll let you know, but don’t hold your breath waiting.”

Arik blooked surprised at how quickly she was rising and the meeting looked to be over. He took her hand in the hopes of holding her there, careful to measure the pressure applied so she would feel his enthusiasm for the matter and not feel under threat. “I only told him I would bring the offer to you. Your anonymity is as protected as always, but he’s willing to offer five times your normal fee and that’s not discussing anything...extraordinary that might be required to right the ship.”

It only stopped her for a moment.“Money isn’t everything, Arik. My anonymity is worth ten times that.”

He grinned. “Only ten?”

While the room was full of chatter, some of it boisterous and fueled by alcohol, she lowered her voice all the same. “While all circumstances are variable, as a general rule, beyond ten times that and it’s simply cheaper and less aggravating to kill the threat.” she glanced at the plate. “Enjoy your dinner while it’s still warm.”

Arik’s jaw tightened for an instant as she turned on him. Once his contact told him about the flower he had hoped to sell the thing. He knew several people that would pay enough for it that would allow him to take a break himself, but, alas, it wasn’t meant to be and he knew it. Money alone rarely drove her. “Is a Storchere worth your anonymity?”

She froze in her tracks, but didn’t turn back, “What do you know about plants?”

“Nothing. That’s just what my contact told me it was.”

“Your contact is playing with you. There hasn’t been a Storchere to be seen in years.”

“I’m told it’s purple with four large, pointed petals with a pink, meaty center.”

“Leaf tips the same color as that center?”

“Black.”

She turned and he saw the look in her eye, opting to feign shock in response to it. “Oh, you seem to be interested.”

“Your contact is gaming you,” she said as she sat down once again. “How you want to handle that is up to you, but do not dare game me.”

“I’m not. The news of it just came to me.”

“Convenient timing, don’t you think? I think.”

He didn’t really have much to offer. “Sometimes good fortune is a thing. Besides, no one knows we were involved in anything. If I got so much as a hint people were looking for us, I’d know, and I wouldn’t be here. I’d be holed up in the mountains north of Idros.”

He reached into his cloak and pulled from it a small slip of paper and he placed it on the table. “This is where to go and who to go to. Give them that and the plant is yours.”

She put her hand on it and she felt resistance. “Can I count on you to be at the meeting?”

Her gaze was firm, but her decision made. “I claim the plant first.”

“Of course,” as though it should have gone without saying.

“Doing so obligates me to nothing but attendance.”

“Fair, but I’m sure you’ll be convinced to help.”

“Doubtful. And, if you have me going to the depths and back for this prize and it’s not what you say it is...”

He released the slip to her. He knew full well the price for earning her wrath. “I’ll be somewhere deep in the mountains north of Idros.”

She looked at it and slipped the paper deep within her cleavage. “That won’t be far enough.”

“Thank you.” He took the plate and utensils and proceeded to carve for himself another piece of the chop and stabbed some greens to join it. “And, in that event, at least I’ll have an excuse to see more of the world.”

She took the fork from him before it could approach his mouth and pulled the plate back towards her with it. “A nice way to think of it.”

“Hey,” he protested in as dignified a manner as a mature man of his age could without sounding too petulant, “You said it was mine.”

“Buy your own.” She took her bite before stabbing some greens. “You’re buying this one, too, just to advise you now.”

He raised his hand and called for a barmaid before turning back, “You drive a hard bargain, my friend.”

Sylanna walked carefully down the grassy path that wasn’t quite a road with the hefty pot cradled in her hands as she burned every aspect of the flower into her mind. She didn’t believe when she set foot in Rostal that what was promised would be there. But when the old woman took her in the back of her home to find it sitting on the sill with the rest of her mundane plants, Sylanna’s breath caught in her throat. It was an example of perfection in all it was, from the texture of the petals to the way the shading of the veins themselves darkened from that pink once closer to the base. She knew it was just a happenstance of color, but she liked to think of it as perhaps an acknowledgment of the dark power it could possess in the right hands. The liquid it cradled and nurtured was one of the most powerful chemicals in the world, but what made it even better was its malleability.

Many complex chemicals did not take well to combination with magic. Complexity usually meant delicacy. Change one element to emphasize this aspect or mute that and you could render it useless or create effects one didn’t want. Try to bond it with other equally complex chemicals and, with the slightest mistake it could collapse, wasting valuable time and resources or the bonding so unstable that the result was almost too perishable or unpredictable to be useful. But the Storchere was different. Its nectar was both complex and forgiving. It was almost as if it welcomed change and magic, but remained determined to hold onto its power. She was already planning in her mind the first experiments with it, seeing just what she could convince it to be. Just having it would enhance the scope of her powers substantially.

And that, she admitted to herself, was worth enduring a meeting with a client, especially since she wouldn’t be aiding them any further. She didn’t like sloppy plans, and that was one from the start, but it had offered her a challenge, and it paid well. This precious bit of life in her hands would be the only challenge she would ever need for the foreseeable future. “You and I have much to do, little one.” They would have several days alone together before the man’s useless meeting. She tied her horse to a tree some distance from the house, wanting to be able to approach on foot to suss out magic or traps of other sorts, but it had just been caution on her part coming in.

On the way back, however, she realized the caution was warranted.

She’d spent several minutes making sure that her prize was perfectly secure with her brown and white dappled horse, promising the darling a calm and uneventful trip to its new home and how cherished it would be. It was then that she felt the stirrings of power around her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up and took note before she rose from one knee to slowly turn her head toward the source on her left.

She saw a woman in the short grass beyond her, her right arm above her head waving slowly in the air to beckon her forward. She moved carefully and casually towards the woman, her senses pushing outward in all directions to see if there were additional focal points in the fabric of life that left marks on that fabric that only a mage could make. She paired her eyes with that sense and saw nothing but open fields around them. All that was there was there was already calling to her. “Do I have you to thank for the Storchere?”

As Sylanna drew closer she could make out the woman she drew closer to. She was a small but sort of thick little thing with long, dark hair and cheeks as round as those hips. She is sort of cute if you like that type, but if I were her I’d throw on a spell. That was simply her surface appraisal. There was much power around her, so she was not to be underestimated. Her cloak was the color of a sandy beach with over somewhat loose dark brown clothing that would allow her to move.

“It belongs to an acquaintance,” the woman said. “He thought it might be of interest to you.”

“It is. Tell your acquaintance that I thank him. Might I know your name?”

“I am Vale.”

“Pleased to meet you, Vale.” There was no reason not to maintain civility. “I am Sylanna. I was told by my friend that the plant was mine to take. Did I misunderstand the matter?”

Those round cheeks made room for a smirk. “Oh, the plant is yours to take because my acquaintances wanted to see who came for it. You came.”

“I did. Who are your acquaintances, if I may ask?” She already had a good idea as to the answer. Nowhere near enough time had passed for the fallout from her actions to come to rest.

Vale’s voice carried pride in even announcing her title “Bryana Lia, Mistress of Guild Vestrix and one of her mates.”

Sylanna prepared herself, drawing her power forth. “I thought as much. Would it help if I told you I had nothing to do with whatever it was?”

The smaller woman pretended to think about it. If there was one skill that Vale had that was more finely-honed than most was her ability to read others. She didn’t believe that for a moment. ‘I’m who you want.’ was in her stance. It was in her too casual tone. It was in her eyes. And it was in how the magic flowed around her as she readied for a fight.

Vale fought back the wave of trepidation that gripped her when these moments were at hand. There hadn’t been many, but it was always the same. What if they are better? What if they best me and this is the moment that I die? And it was always the same in that Mistress’s words steeled her will. ‘Bravery is facing your fear and doing what has to be done in spite of it.’ She knew she could do what had to be done. She would do it. If she failed and died? She stood for her guild and the Mistress who carried enough faith and trust in her to choose her to do this. There was also the fact that she had a hand in the current situation as well and that she very much wanted to have a hand in any revenge against the man who was responsible for almost killing her.

“If you have not, then come with me to meet with them. If you’re being truthful, then they have no quarrel with you. You will be compensated for your inconvenience beyond being able to keep the plant and sent wherever you’d like to go with no harm done.”

“I’m just supposed to take your word for that?”

“You have my word and the word of my Mistress.”

Sylanna made her choice. “I’m afraid that’s not enough.”

Vale saw it in the way the other’s limbs stiffened and she prepared herself for a fight. “That’s all there is.”

Sylanna’s hand glowed a deep red as she raised it toward Vale, energy lashing outward to strike Vale and wrap around her, Vales’s shield of magic absorbing the sword of fire. The small thing is quick. Sylanna thought as Vale closed the distance between them with surprising speed her own magic collecting as pure force. An instant before they connected, anticipation had Sylanna pull her fire back within herself and redirect it into her own shield, but she was a heartbeat too slow bringing it to bear with full effect. She took enough of the strike to put her into the air before sliding into the grass on her back.

Caressing her cheek to make sure that all was as it should be, she gave an honest appraisal of the strike. “Nicely done.”

Vale followed up quickly, pouncing on Sylanna using her fist as an extension of her power channeling it into the other’s magic, hoping to penetrate while she still had an advantage. The power rippled the shield of magic and the magic beneath that. Hints of what the magic closest to her hid appeared like a receding tide slowly revealed that which was hidden under the water. Feeling her own shield buckle under the assault, she had to act quickly rather than engage in a war of attrition with someone who already had a head start. Her anger fueling her, she channeled a burst into the center of Vale’s chest. The competing energies flared and sent Vale flying in a burst of light and force.

Sylanna moaned, hoping that the sound told her enemy that the strike had injured her as well. It had, but she was at least prepared. She loved the earth and it loved her and she would use it. Patiently awaiting the sound of Vale’s footfalls, once her enemy was coming to continue the fight, she jammed her nails into the ground as the other approached, her mind following the lines of force to Vale before sending her power forth in a wave of earth into Vale, taking it out from under her and sending a good amount of it into her face. She coughed and spit as she rolled away, and onto her hands and knees trying to clear her lungs and her mouth of it. She gasped, preparing for another spasm as dizziness threatened to overwhelm her. As it was, it was enough to send the ground towards her again.

“Kind of nice, isn’t it?”

Sylanna rolled her onto her back and descended upon Vale, straddling her chest. “A Zale Root dust combined with a few other special odds and ends. She pulled a tiny, green pod from the hidden pouch behind her belt. She squeezed it between thumb and forefinger and the black dust came out in a puff over Vale’s face, and waited for the inevitable reaction. She entertained a sinister grin when Vale’s features began to soften. “It is nice. It makes you feel warm and calm. Take it all inside you, Vale”

Vale struggled briefly, trying to lift the woman from her, but it was just so comfortable now. The weight on her felt almost right and necessary as the rest of her felt like it was floating away on the breeze. Even the why of her being here was slipping from her grasp. She had almost decided it didn’t matter until some small bit of her spoke loudly as it had done every time she was in a moment where her goals seemed impossibly beyond her reach. You are failing. She looked up and seeing the snide look on the face of the woman above her caused a rush of anger that anchored her to herself.

“It will be all right. We’ll talk in a moment, but you are a feisty one, aren’t you? Worry not, a couple more of these and we’ll go back to my place and have a long chat about a great many things.”

Vale searched near them for anything with mass close by that her magic could latch onto before it was too late, remembering hours upon hours using her magic to move objects with both precision and force. The latter was simple. The former gave her much trouble once upon a time, but Mistress had helped her with that and now she was teaching those skills to others. It was another example of how far she’d come with Mistress’s help and why she refused to accept failure now.

Reaching for another pod she feigned pity. “I thought this was going to be a much tougher fight. You seemed quite powerful when I happened upon you and…” She stopped, realizing she still sensed that power before her. In fact, it was expanding, growing, and shifting. Sylanna was immediately wary, looking around and reaching out once again. Something was missed.

That thought was still there at the instant a sizable rock from the scrabble road struck her in the back of the head. She yelped and that gave way to a disoriented moan as she fell forward to be pushed aside by Vale who took in as much fresh air as she could to try and dispel the effects of the dust. The floating feeling receded enough for her to marshal her powers again, though she kept her distance in the event that Sylanna might choose to counter. The air rippled ahead of her and Vale watched it do so with satisfaction, knowing that Mistress was at hand.

Vale moved to be closer to it and to Sylanna now as the other rose dabbing at the back of her head to discover a small bit of blood, quiet for a time to quell her own disorientation “That one wasn’t bad either. You could have killed me with that if you weren’t so weak.”

“Killing you wasn’t the point.”

“Missing the point will cost you.” Sylanna promised.

She was dirty and disheveled, but she was also quite pleased with herself. “No, it won’t. I’m clear on the point and I’ll let you in on it: Mistress wants you, and my only purpose was to delay you because the portal takes some time.”

Sylanna did a double-take and wondered for a moment whether she’d taken a harder hit than she’d realized when a piece of the field before her disappeared, surrendering instead to a room of pale white stone with a tall woman with golden hair that fell in loose curls stepping back, power emanating from a talisman in each hand that was stretched out from her sides.

She gave Vale a sideways glance as she admitted, “An impressive spell,” she commented as she watched the woman step back. Your Mistress, I presume?”

“Indeed.”

Bryana stepped backwards slowly as a shorter, powerfully built male stepped forward, extending his hand and calling his power. Vale did the same and the wind picked up around Sylanna feeling it envelop her, lifting her from the ground as though she were weightless within the unseen hand. It dragged her toward the portal rapidly, not giving her time to mount a defense as Vale followed.

Once both were through, the field vanished and the reality of the room reasserted itself. Bryana dropped her now dim talismans, the metal clinking against the stone floor and shifted her casting, clutching Sylanna more forcefully within the field of magic.

“Have her?”

“I do,” Vale responded, concentrating on her weaving to keep Sylanna as physically bound as she could manage as that weaving entwined with that of Mistress.

“Ready, Deres.”

Even as he planned extricating himself, he considered some final alterations to the glyph. “Releasing...now.” He dropped to one knee and pressed his left hand to the markings on the floor. Once his eyes closed, the glyph began to reshape itself. New twists and turns within it flowed outward from his hands in a manner that looked like a river of metal shavings changing the landscape of it within it as it went, sounding to Sylanna’s ear like the tinkling of wind chimes in a soft breeze.

She watched the shapes form with some curiosity, recognizing some elements common to all snare spells, but others that were wholly unfamiliar as they coiled around and overlaid one another in seemingly endless complexity. Power collected in his right hand and, Sylanna expected a strike. Instead, he slammed his palm into the glyph, the energy within, making the forms flash blindingly bright before going dark once again.

“Done.”