by DJ Black
In the summer of 2011 a curious scene was conceived: a dark tale of a young ambitious woman and an old man who knew more about her and her world than he would ever let on. Romance screamed from the shadows, but our hero had yet to make an appearance, so who were these people now taking on a life of their own? Somehow directly or indirectly, the fate of a world hung in the balance. The spell of Magic had begun to weave its way into the author's mind.
Perhaps fittingly for such a perilous story, for a while it might not have been written at all. And even if it had been it may have gone the way of many such mercurial shorts and become a 'here today, gone tomorrow' disposable curio on a page. However, the author had long entertained the idea of a romance between a sinister young mage and his beautiful apprentice, but had been unable to put any depth into the characters or find a convincing storyline.
Then the author saw how an ambitious and powerful man might be distracted by love and a power-seeking woman by an older mysterious man. Of course social conventions, stalking demons, stern instructors and war might intervene first. But could love triumph?
So armed with one scene and a romantic concept, the author began to research and develop a backstory for an extensive new world with its own rules of magic, cities and cultures. The result might be described as the Wizard of Earthsea meets 50 Shades of Grey, but more than that, it encompasses not only demons and dragons, but a drawn out world with its own lore and customs where young apprentices wrestle with their newfound power and a hidden desire to surrender it.
Originally, the story was intended to focus almost entirely upon the noble Katrin De Lacy and her master, Arlon Fear, the young magus assigned to teach her on the path of knowledge and to becoming a mage herself. But it soon became apparent that the other characters would not easily roll over. So in addition to Katrin and Fear, personalities such as Tabitha with her love-hate-love relationships with anyone who would spank her; Amber Sage, the sexually ambiguous wise young student teacher and witch; and above all the mysterious and uncompromising wizard Dniester who had first inspired this tale, began to show that they would not be so easily vanquished.
It is an epic adventure amounting to over 200,000 words and set over several years. So for the reader it is quite an investment and for those looking for a routine spanking romance, then this plot and characterisation-heavy story may not be for you.
But along the way the adventure combines sex and spanking, love and betrayal as well as wars, quests and demonic possession. Of course not everything and everyone are what they seem in this exploration of power and transformation. So perhaps you should proceed with caution. Otherwise be ready to see the world and the nature of the world in a new light. You may find that it is Magic.
The gale beyond his window raked the trees, scattering the first of the autumn leaves. The season stood at the gates of a change and not just beyond his house. He sighed. It was a sound of pain. Then reluctantly he turned to look at the objects on the table. Perhaps he thought they would be gone if he delayed confronting them long enough, but they were still inconveniently present.
He looked at his daughter's governess, who studied him patiently awaiting his decision. Then he again studied the objects on the table. There was a yard-square parchment bearing a pentangle. All scattered with runes he did not comprehend. Then there were the black candles, a ram's skull, miscellaneous herbs, various crude wands of rowan, ash and lime, all manner of so-called natural objects; he did not even want to look in the box.
"Where is she?" he asked.
"She stands in the corner on the upstairs landing in nothing but her shift if she knows what's good for her." The governess adjusted the birch rod under her arm to a more a comfortable position.
"You mean to thrash her then?" He could think of no other course.
"Unless you wish to do it?" The governess fixed him with a hard stare. She was a bitter woman in her late 30s. She might even have been attractive if she had ever smiled.
"I doubt I could do her justice given the gravity of..." He left his words hanging and gestured to the evidence of witchcraft on the table. Then he added in a whisper, "I always was too soft with her."
"Never fear, Sir Mark, she will rue the day she ever dabbled in such things. I'll warrant that she won't sit down for a fortnight by the time I'm finished with her."
He nodded. He didn't want any details. Katrin had dabbled in witchcraft against his expressed orders. Now she would have to take a medicine of another kind.
Far way on the edge of the Shining Sea, Tabitha cast one last longing look at her beloved desert and then turned for home.
The ptarmigan felt heavy and she hefted it in satisfaction. Tonight the whole family would eat. Not that Tomas would be pleased. He never was when she was successful at the hunt. Tomas never caught anything anymore. Once he had been the best hunter on the Silver Shore, which is why her mother had married him, but no longer.
Not that any of the other hunters fared any better. For most of her people it had been a lean time for game of all kinds. Tabitha let out a heavy sigh and cast her dark brown eyes back to face the desert, her short soft black curls rippling atop of her smooth dark face.
The more she thought about it, the more she realised that Tomas would be angry. It was bad enough that the men now relied on the women and their fish to survive, but to be out-hunted by a mere slip of a girl. Yes, Tomas would be angry. He might even spank her; for taking his bow without asking at the very least.
She reached under her short leather skirt and rubbed the smooth naked sand-brown flesh she found there. Her bottom was neatly rounded and set high and tight. It would fit neatly enough over Tomas's knee she knew. Her stepfather's hands were hard and his hunter's arms strong. She would not sit easy for a day or two and mother would confine her to the house and give her extra chores.
Still that was nothing. If Tomas or Mother found out her secret, of how she could hunt ptarmigan when the men could not... well she would be flogged naked in the town square and probably sold off for service in the city somewhere.
No if she could feed the family with her gift, then a spanking was a small price to pay.
Crane had heard the rumours of Sir Mark's daughter all the way to the city. Dark rumours that spoke of witchcraft and other dark deeds considered inappropriate for a young noble woman. He hated the country, filled as it was with superstitious peasants, but he had a nose for these things. Katrin De Lacy sounded like a good prospect for Pandoria. Not only was the girl a possible talent, but as a noblewoman she may well be paying talent. It was this that had brought him to the De Lacy estate.
He chose a small inn in the village of Downley, which was on the edge of the estate. It was a one-room affair with a thatched roof and boasted two vacant rooms to let in the attic above the stable block to the rear. Crane pushed through the rickety old door, which opened with a squeak on the flagstones within. The bar room beyond was gloomy and smelt of stale beer and wood smoke. The man behind the bar was fat with short curly grey hair. His dull sunken eyes looked everywhere but at him as he entered, although Crane knew he was being studied hard.
"You looking for work?" The innkeeper sniffed in his direction. He didn't like the look of the tall thin stranger. For one thing it was late in the year to wear a heavy leather three-quarter-length coat as the stranger did. For another he had reddish-brown hair worn long in the style of a Westerner. There may have been peace at the moment, but war with the Westerners was never far away.
"Not so much," Crane drawled as he scratched his beaky nose and let his small dark eyes slide lazily in the innkeeper's direction.
The innkeeper relaxed a little. The man had an educated accent and was obviously well-versed in the common tongue. Perhaps the long hair was a city affectation from down south. It would certainly explain the hair colour. Most Westerners were blond.
"Tell me, what do you know of the De Lacy's?" As he threw out the casual question he placed a silver mark on the bar, enough for a week's stay at this out-of-the-way establishment.
Crane stood under the shadow of an oak tree regarding the house, pondering his next move. Confronting noblemen could sometimes be a delicate business, especially when it concerned their only child. He had learned from the innkeeper that Katrin De Lacy was a local scandal. Even at 19, she was rarely presented to any of the neighbouring nobility. It seemed she preferred to spend her days running wild in the woods and consorting with an old herbalist who lived as a hermit.
Belinda, the herbalist, was widely regarded as a witch, and although on further inspection Crane had decided that the woman had a small gift in the magical direction, it was hardly enough to get her admittance to the merest of covens. Detecting no threat, he had decided to confront her. Belinda had been forthcoming enough and had even declined Crane's offered bribe. She was old and plump with thick curly silver-white hair, from under which she studied Crane intently with pale blue eyes.
"What is your interest in Katrin De Lacy?" she asked suspiciously.
"A mutual opportunity," Crane had replied simply.
"Oh yes?" Belinda's attitude of suspicion was not diminished. "Have you seen her?"
"No." Crane folded his arms and leaned back against the door frame of the small cottage.
"So you didn't know she was beautiful?"
"No I didn't. Is it important?"
Belinda relaxed. "What exactly is your interest?"
Crane smiled and indicated a chair, but waited until Belinda nodded before he sat down. "I am a talent scout of sorts," he began, "and I have reason to believe that Katrin De Lacy is a witch, or aspires to be one."
"Ah." It was a long knowing sound accompanied with a strong smile.
Belinda had gone on to tell him that Katrin had come to her for lessons in magic. The idea, the herbalist said, amused her as Belinda knew none. All her skill lay in herbs and if she had picked up a few simple spells along the way to help guide the simple natural effects... "Well, where's the harm?" she had said.
"She is a dreamer that one," Belinda had continued, "Although, if I am any judge, she has something of a gift and for what it's worth I taught her all I know."
"What about this talk of demons?" Crane had pressed her.
"Stuff and nonsense," Belinda had laughed. "The girl has access to some old books and legends. She makes half of it up. The rest she does not understand."
Now Crane had to decide how best to broach his proposition.
Katrin was miserable. She had been forbidden from going out on pain of another birching.
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