Mud and Magic Ch. 04

"And that someone is you?"

"Yes. I try to provide education, support and coordination for those willing to take the fight to Carver."

"And you exclusively recruit people wronged by him?"

"Not exclusively. See Hilgrun, Lishaka, Borna and Galdor. Oh, and Chassari. But I freely admit that having built-in motivation is a definite bonus."

Rhys shot him a surprised look. "You know, you-"

Thurguz waved a dismissive hand. "Yes. It may seem Carver and I are not that different from each other. Consider this though: Unlike Carver, I don't enslave, torture, rape or otherwise harm those in my care."

"And what if I don't want to fight Carver in the end?"

"You don't?"

Rhys growled. "Of bloody course I want to fight him, after what he and his henchmen did to my little sister. But let us assume for one moment I don't want to. Let's say I'm too afraid, even after all the knowledge you have given me. Or especially after." Rhys looked at the table. There were many twinkling lights but the area swathed in red was so much bigger.

Thurguz placed a big paw on Rhys' shoulder. "Look at me, lad."

Rhys looked into the half-orc's eyes. Those were not the eyes of a schemer. There was genuine sympathy in there, tempered by years of hardship and loss.

"If you, after all I-... after all we here at the tower have given you, still think you don't want to fight Carver, I will let you go. I would bemoan the loss of a bright star but I don't have the authority or the means to keep you here. I would be really pissed though." A fierce grin split the half-orc's face.

"I don't believe the 'means' bit," Rhys said. "I mean, you're a mighty wizard and all that."

"Ask Idunn. She thinks I'm a passable hack, nowhere near her brilliance. But I hit harder than her," Thurguz said with a grin.

A rap on the door then Idunn stomped in. "A mirror is asking for you and it seems urgent," she snapped without preamble.

"Coming. Well then, Rhys. Seems like I once again won't be able to assess your progress as a spell caster just yet. Let us continue our talk another day." He clapped Rhys' shoulder one more time, nearly folding him double, then he stomped off. The table sputtered without Thurguz around, the map view dissolved into shapeless blobs of light again.

"Now, since I have you right here," Idunn said, a fierce grin on her face, "why don't we saunter down to one of the training chambers and work on your spell casting?"

* * * *

Life at the tower soon settled into a certain rhythm for Rhys. He would rise around dawn despite his room not having a window, eat a quick breakfast with Galdor before Idunn would collect him for a long, grueling training lesson. It took him about a week to get a firm grasp on the fundamentals of spell casting, the finding and drawing on power sources. At the end of the week, much to Rhys' chagrin, Galdor moved back into his old room. Rhys genuinely liked the dwarf alchemist, his dry wit and the simple fact that here was a man who didn't bully him every chance he got.

Once Idunn was happy with his progress, her attention turned to improving his casting speed and the precision of his spells, along with teaching him how to keep up his concentration under duress. To that end, she recruited Borna. The red-scaled "demon princess" would prowl around Rhys, growling malevolently, nudge him, grope him and generally make a nuisance of herself, all the while trying to disrupt his concentration. Even though he managed to avoid Sorcerer's Burn, every miscast spell -- and there were many in that second week! - drained him, leaving Rhys with a murderous headache. He'd spend an hour or two recovering then he'd dive into one of the libraries.

Rhys was keenly aware that he had the least experience of all the others in the tower. Most of his life, his world was restricted to the same handful of square miles which made up the village, with only scattered stories and news from the outside world reaching him. He barely knew anything about the area surrounding the village and much less about anything further away. He spent hours poring away over maps, trying to locate all the places Thurguz had told him about. He nearly fainted when he realized that Thurguz' tower was almost four hundred miles away from Lordehome, neatly tucked away out of Carver's reach, only accessible by either a dangerous goat trail or -- like the half-orc had shown him -- via magic. Once his hunger for knowledge of the world around his former home had been sated, he turned his attention to the books on magic Idunn had recommended, many written by sorcerers detailing ways to manipulate the magic sources to accomplish incredible things like flight or even shape shifting.

Rhys rubbed his temples. "Shape shifting, huh?" He thought back to his second night at the tower, when Galdor had changed the size and shape of his rod. Rhys shook his head. "I'm not sure I want to try that. What if I can't turn back?"

Someone enthusiastically knocked on his door, with a foot no less. Rhys placed a ribbon bookmark into the book and closed it reverently. That tome probably cost more than Padec's whole farm. "Yes?"

The door opened. Rhys had expected Sen to come in and deliver his supper but it was Lishaka. The goblin balanced a tray, piled high with bowls, glasses, a flask and a basket with fragrant bread. She bumped the door closed with her butt. And it looked like everything might scatter and spill the next moment. Rhys rushed towards her and plucked the basket and bottle, the items which appeared most imbalanced, off the tray.

"Thanks for that," the goblin said, beaming. "I thought that with Grim Galdor gone, you'd like some company for supper. Or am I interrupting something interesting?" She looked at the big tome on his desk.

"No. I've just finished my studies for today." He rubbed his temples again. "Between Idunn's lessons and the reading I'm doing, my head is killing me. I'm glad you came when you did."

"Oh, I have the perfect cure for that kind of headache," Lishaka chirped, taking the tray to the low table between the two armchairs Galdor and Rhys used to sit in. "But that has to wait until after we've eaten."

A spicy aroma tickled Rhys' nostrils. "Lava stew again?"

Lishaka giggled. "Yup. This time without any magic in it. I think the lack of elemental infusion helped the recipe."

"No kidding." Rhys sat down opposite her and picked up a bowl and spoon. "How are you doing? With all the studies, I've hardly found the time to socialize."

"Well, yeah, that's a bit of a problem in the beginning. Once you've found your stride and learned how best to slip away from Idunn, you'll be fine. Don't you want to eat?"

Rhys eyed the soup critically. It had a slightly sinister reddish tint, with thick chunks bobbing to the surface. It smelled delicious but there was the definite threat of hot spices in that aroma as well.

"Dare I ask what's in there?"

"All the usual stuff which goes into a lava stew. Or a decent substitute. I can't, for the life of me, get cave fisher meat. Common critters Below but try and find a merchant who sells the stuff up here." Lishaka shrugged, picked up her spoon and bowl and dug in. Her face turned a deeper shade of green.

"Are you all right?"

"Thish ish fucking hot!" she cursed. "And I forgot to bring napkins."

"A goblin and napkins?" Rhys asked. He rose and pulled two washcloths from his wardrobe. "Here."

"Thank you," Lishaka said, taking the offered piece of fabric. She dabbed her lips with it. "You might want to dunk in the bread first."

"I'll try that." He tore a piece off the bread and used it to sponge up some of the soup. He carefully nibbled at it. The expected horrid fireball didn't come but it was among the spiciest things he'd ever had -- apart from the spiked bowl of cabbage soup Delf had one day sprung on him. No idea where they had found the pepper but the inside of his mouth had hurt for days afterwards. He should probably have stopped after the first, fiery spoonful but, by that time, he had gone for three days without food and a whole bowl of fresh soup was simply too good to pass up.

"You look like you want to hurt someone," Lishaka said between two spoonfuls.

"You have no idea," Rhys sighed. "Can you imagine how it feels when your whole family is after you? Well, almost the whole family? My older sisters were too busy with themselves to do anything past occasionally shout at me but my brothers and especially my father..." The next bite was bigger. Once the mouth adapted to the small inferno going off, there were traces of other tastes coming through. He recognized carrot and meat and beets but also other, foreign tastes he couldn't place. Black beans seemed to be an important part of the recipe as well.

"You would be surprised," Lishaka said, baring her teeth. "Let's just say my tribe wasn't too keen on me once my powers emerged."

"Which brings me to a very important question: What exactly are your powers?"

Lishaka chuckled then waved at him with the butt end of her spoon. "Careful, human. Before you sits Lishaka, mighty sorceress! Also former apprentice to a shaman, cooker of meals, maker of fire and generally awesome!" She used the end of her spoon to split the collar of her robe until it was open down to her belt. "And in addition to that, I'm learning the arts of seduction from Chassari." She caressed her nipple with the cool metal of the spoon, causing it to poke against the metallic blue fabric of her robe. "Does it work?" She pointedly looked at his crotch.

"Not while I'm eating it's not," Rhys said, licking dabs of stew off his fingers. He picked up the spoon and began to eat in earnest. "This is really good!"

"Oh thank you," Lishaka said, resuming to eat as well. "Like I said, I know how to cook. And throw fireballs."

"But isn't Lava Stew a typical dwarven food?"

"Sure. Idunn showed me how it's made. Foolish me wanted to impress Galdor." She ate quietly for a time, then softly said: "I wanted someone my own size to be my first. But he can forget about ever getting anything from me again."

"And Chassari is teaching you how?" Rhys asked innocently.

"She has shown me how to kiss, how to play with her breasts and how to eat pussy and how to... oh." She turned almost black. "I mean my real first. Not with a crystal phallus or her tongue. Or fingers." Lishaka hung her head, her ears almost covering her face.

"And it didn't bother you that he's a dwarf?"

Her face came up. Gone was the blush, replaced by her usual apple-green skin. "No, why?"

"Isn't there an ages-old animosity between dwarves and goblins?"

"No idea about the dwarf side of things but my tribe had little dealings with them. We had more problems with the ra-ka-kari dark elves living under the same mountain we did. They were much more a problem than any dwarves."

"How so?"

"Besides the obvious? Slaughtering us for sport? Harvesting our young as future slaves? You know what the biggest success for our tribe was?"

"No."

"We ambushed a dark elf raiding party which thought using our caverns as a shortcut to the surface was a wise idea."

"What happened?"

Lishaka grinned and licked her lips. "When they entered one of the smaller tunnels, we blew it up in front and behind them. Then our best warriors dropped down on them and chopped anything which moved into tiny pieces. Only the priestess was left alive."

"Why?"

"Let's just say she was the entertainment for the tribe. After the chief cut out her tongue and made sure she wouldn't scream for her Spider Queen any more, everyone was allowed a bit of fun with her. After every goblin dick in screaming range, she probably was sick of green. And we girls gave her one showering she'll never forget, if you know what I mean." She used the end of her spoon to point between her thighs.

Rhys shivered. "You pissed on her?"

Lishaka nodded emphatically. "After everyone took a tiny bite out of her. Must have stung like hell. And it stank!" She giggled. "When she had well and truly soaked for three days or so, we tossed her back into the dark elf tunnels."

"They must have been furious when they found her."

Lishaka shrugged. "No clue. Shortly after our baptism by piss, my powers awoke. I had other problems than the fate of a dark elven bitch." She picked the bottle off the table and filled a glass, drinking greedily. "Ah. Much better. But knowing the black-skinned buggers, they probably torched the whole place. No skin off my back!" She snarled a few harsh words in the goblin tongue Rhys didn't understand.

"What's in there?" He pointed at the bottle.

"Harmless buttermilk mixed with fruit juice. Takes off the heat a bit. Made it myself!" She pushed out her chest, then admitted: "Well, I poured the fruit juice in the buttermilk. The cows somewhere made the milk."

Rhys put down his empty bowl. By now, he was sweating. A glass of the creamy drink helped somewhat. Contented, he leaned back in his armchair.

"How's your head?" Lishaka asked. She looked over the edge of her bowl at him.

"A bit better but my neck is killing me."

"Let me guess. All that 'poring over ancient texts,' huh?"

"Maybe. I'm not used to reading this much. In all eighteen years of my life, I didn't finish a single book. Since I've arrived here, I've done eight."

"And do you remember anything of it?" Lishaka asked, grinning.

"Most of it I guess. Not word for word but the knowledge. Thanks to the book there, I've learned how to throw projectiles which always hit their target, for example."

"Always? Sounds too good to be true."

"Well, almost. They hit unless Borna grabs my crotch. Or snarls at me."

"Or is in the same room?" Lishaka tossed the empty bowls onto the tray.

"No, that I can deal with by now."

"Lucky you. She nearly ate me when I tried to... get to know her better. Now, here's how it works. I'll get rid of the dishes, you get yourself onto your bed. Out of your robes, face down and close your eyes. I'll get the cure for your back problem." Lishaka yanked up the tray and trotted towards the door. "Oh, and if you could-"

"Sure. But me on my bed? Is that a wise idea?"

"That, Rhys, is what 'trust' is called," Lishaka said. It sounded like a quote. Probably Idunn

He opened the door. "I could bring down the tray. I feel bad for always having others bring and take away my stuff."

"Hey, that's what Sen and the others are here for. And I need to swing by my room to get something so I don't mind the extra walk to the kitchen. You go and lie down, I'll be back in a bit." The goblin walked out of the room.

Rhys closed the door behind her. She would need a few minutes to the kitchen and back. Sen did it in less than ten, he had timed her when playing with a gift Idunn had given him -- his own hourglass. To improve his casting speed, she had said. It was set to a minute and on a good day, Rhys was able to fire off one of his spells in about half the time. Not that it was even close to good enough. Idunn could cast her spells even faster, sometimes it seemed as if barely a five-count went past before her axe materialized. But she had almost a century of daily use as practice.

Rhys trotted into the bathroom, took off his robe and washed himself. Back in the village, cleanliness usually involved well water or the river, more often than not without soap. Every few months Dara would offer him a hot bath in the inn's cellar and sometimes he even took her up on that. Now, in the tower, fresh water was only a tug on that metallic spigot away. He didn't even have to boil the water himself. As a gift for letting him stay, Galdor had created a fire-elemental stone. Rhys needed only to place it in whatever water he wanted heated, say a command word and soon, the water would boil. Fishing the stone out of a cauldron full of boiling water with tongs was the tricky part but it beat having to wait half an hour by a country mile.

Rhys really liked being both clean and clean-shaven. He looked at his mirror image. Two weeks of regular meals and a hot bath every two days had worked wonders. His hair didn't look like a cow pat anymore, instead it shone in a dark chestnut. The only lamentable thing was his figure. He had filled out quite a bit already but, even to him, it was obvious that he'd never gain that wide-shouldered, square-chinned look of his brothers. If he was perfectly honest, he looked like an older, masculine version of Mirrin or a less used-up Lissy, with his soft features and long-fingered hands.

Shrugging, Rhys took his robe and left the bathroom. He tossed the garment into a basket next to the door and, wearing only his loincloth, flopped onto the bed. His eyes closed almost on their own, like most times when he finally hit the bed after a long day of study. He had thought life on the farm was tough but wrangling the forces of magic or trying to learn the politics of the Four Cities was as hard or even harder than mucking out stables.

Suddenly, there was a weight on his behind. He jerked awake. A small, sharp-clawed hand touched his neck.

"No need to panic. It's just me, Lishaka." Her voice was unusually soft as her fingers played with his hair. She sat on his butt, not exactly light as a feather, but not unpleasant either. And there was something else. Rhys reached behind himself until his fingers encountered her thigh. No fabric.

"You are naked."

"As are you. Almost." She fondly squeezed his buttocks. "So I thought it would be unfair if I rode you fully clothed. And besides, what I have in mind works best if both parties are naked." Again that tone.

"Who are you quoting?"

"Is it that obvious?" There was the noise of a metal lid being unscrewed. Almost immediately, a fresh, tart smell hit his nose.

"Pretty much, yes. Your Common is different than that."

"If you have to know, I like to use big words. I don't know too many just yet. Hey, I've only been speaking this language for the past six months!"

"With or without Bottled Knowledge?"

"No idea what you are talking about. Before Thurguz took me in, my whole range of Common words was 'human, give food or die!'" Those last words she screeched, barely articulate. "I've been studying very hard!"

A lump of something wet and cold landed between his shoulder blades. A moment later, her hands came, the palms distributing some ointment over his neck and shoulders. It reminded him of Gran's -- or rather Celeste's -- pain-dampening salve. Lishaka enthusiastically massaged it into him, applying much greater care than Rhys had anticipated, especially when she reached his neck. By that time, she was more or less lying on top of him, her small breasts and hard nipples very distinct sensations on his back.

"Do you like that?" she asked, her massaging hands working at the kinks on the base of his neck.

"What do you mean? Your hands or your naked body?"

"Everything."

"It's very nice." He sighed. "Chassari again?"

"Of course. The idea of goblin sex... well, let's say even cats show more tenderness when mating."

"Ouch."

Lishaka stopped. "Did I hurt you?"

"No. I just remembered seeing cats mating in our village. The poor tomcat got a serious beating when he was done. So much for gratitude."

"Oh." She resumed massaging. Or rather caressing and writhing.

"Lishaka."

"Hmmm?" Her voice was low and husky and there was a new note in the air, a musky scent Rhys was becoming all too familiar with. Female arousal.

"You haven't said a single word in regards to my scars yet."

"Do I have to? They look fucking nasty and whoever did this to you should be torn apart by a pack of hungry gibberlings." Suddenly, he could feel her breath on his neck. The sensation persisted for a moment then Lishaka slid off him. "And besides, you're not the only one to have some."