Chapter 2: Lonesome Stranger
Peter began his journey with youthful zeal. Like any good paladin, he sought not personal glory, but glory for his church and god. He carried the symbols of his position with humble pride. The emblazoned crest of the red dragon adorning his armor and shield protected him from the most hideous of evils. His faith and courage singled him out specifically to meet this challenge.
Corruption, land tainted by the Void, encroached on the physical world at an accelerated pace. Something or someone hastened the rise of evil in the world and Peter was just the man to stop it. Of course, Peter did not know what actually caused the spread of death and decay or even how he was to go about fighting it, but he never let things like that stop him from performing his duty. Honor, after all, demanded that he carry the banner of his church high with pride.
The sunset left little time to settle in for the night. He needed a fire and food to empower him for tomorrow’s battle. A prairie such as this contained several small creatures he could hunt and cook for dinner. He set about finding a small rabbit, killed it, cleaned it, and began to roast it over an open fire. Surely, his god answered his prayers this night and blessed him on his journey.
“What a fearsome beast you have captured,” Icy said quietly.
The paladin looked all around his camp for signs of the voice but found nothing. Icy’s snow form let her remain invisible to his eyes until she saw fit to reveal herself. She wanted to build up his confidence, lead him on a little, before showing herself. A nymph’s beauty was rumored to drive mortal men to madness. That would disqualify her.
“And what a mighty sword you have,” she continued. “You must be very strong to wield such a large tool.”
“I am a paladin, strange voice,” Peter announced. “Come to fight the evil plaguing this land. Show yourself that you might be greeted properly.”
Though his voice sounded amiable, his hand rested on the handle of his sword. Icy considered his precautions for a moment. He might harm her if she walked up to him now. What else could she do though? Leaving him now would mean she failed the contest. Failing was worse than disqualification. She decided to risk it, holding her pheromones on standby just in case he needed a good bout of madness.
Her pale body formed out of the snowflakes and she presented herself to the awestruck man. His body fell limp at the sight of her incredible beauty. She kept her distance from him so as not to overwhelm the mortal. Instead, she walked over to his horse and lightly patted the creature’s head. The symbol of the red dragon shined brightly in the fire light.
“What does this mean?” She asked sweetly.
“I am a crusader of the Red Dragon,” he answered. “Peter, paladin and guard of his Highness, the Bishop, come to slay the evil creature responsible for spreading the corruption.”
“I see,” Icy lied. In truth, she had no idea what a paladin or bishop was. “How very interesting. You must be very important where you come from.”
Icy approached slowly. She kept her powers at a minimal level, just enough to cloud his mind, but not enough to overwhelm him. Her charm and grace let her get right next to him before he blinked away the fog and dared move. His sword hung on his far side. At this close distance, he would have to stand to draw it and strike her. By then, Icy felt her power would easily take control of him.
“This armor is very heavy,” she said with a little magic in her voice. “Let me help you out of it. You have no need for it tonight.”
“I have no need for my armor tonight,” Peter mimicked. “Yes, it is heavy and I am quite weary from my travels.”
“Such magnificent arms you have,” she cooed into his ear, rubbing his large shoulders.
Her cold breath across his neck sent chills down his back. It unexpectedly broke her hold on him. He turned to face her and noticed for the first time her pale skin. In the full light, she appeared stark white as the snow-capped mountain. Being a healer first, the paladin thought of the lady’s well being above all else.
“My lady, you will catch death of cold out here like this,” he said. “And in such flimsy clothing.”
The descriptive term “flimsy” enraged the nymph. She wore only the finest in flexible metal fabrics drawn forth from the mountain where she lived. This mortal had no taste or sophistication. He was clearly a bum. No matter, that did not affect the contest in any way. She sat close to him with one arm around his powerful torso. Again, her nature got the better of her and the freezing limb snapped the paladin’s senses out of her control.
“You are deathly chill, my lady,” he said. “Please, sit closer to the fire.”
Fire was one thing she hated. Its burning fingers melted her snow with great speed and little mercy. She wanted nothing to do with his campfire. She thought quickly about how to steer the conversation in the desired direction. Manipulating mortals usually proved easier than this.
“I am very cold,” she said truthfully. “Why don’t we go inside and keep each other warm?”
She poured on her pheromones even stronger. The paladin stood no chance. His natural protective instinct on top of her power quickly buckled his usual protestations. It was not every day that a strapping young paladin such as him found a genuine damsel in distress. He agreed with some reluctance and helped her inside.
Now, inside the tent and with very little between her and victory, Icy felt it was time to pursue the goal. She pressed against him fully, using her powers to distort his feeling of cold. If the pheromones worked properly, by morning this contest would be in the bag! Unfortunately, they did not work at all. Peter pushed Icy away and frowned.
“I am sorry, milady,” he said, “but honor demands I remain chaste while on a mission. My duty is to the church first and I cannot waiver.”
Icy spent a very awkward few minutes waiting on Peter to fall asleep before she escaped the tent. She found her sisters by the lake, pondering their own strategies. Their unenthusiastic greeting did not surprise her.
“How did it go?” Sylvia asked slyly.
“He’s too prudish,” Icy scoffed.
“Your cold heart could never seduce a young virile man,” Sylvia laughed.
Her younger sisters burst out in laughter at her expense. Their wretched voices filled the air with much noise. Birdsong, splashing waves, and chirping crickets clashed together in a symphony of nature. Icy frowned most seriously at them. She knew they would not succeed any more than she had.
The next morning, Peter reluctantly maintained his camp. His weariness served not his quest and he feared facing evil in his condition would prove fatal. If not for all the noise keeping him awake that night he would be ready to go right now. Where did those crickets come from? What manner of fish caused so much splashing? He never heard that much singing from birds in all his years. No, he needed to be fresh and ready for his battle against the darkness, lest he imagine frigid seductresses in his sleep again.
Crys found him huddled over his campfire. It burned a little smaller than the previous night. The creature over its flames seemed smaller too. Peter sat hunched up with his arms crossed. He seemed very upset about something but she did not know what it could be. She approached him more easily than Icy.
“You look troubled good paladin,” she greeted him. “Might I do something to take away your ills?”
Peter startled at her silent approach. The flowing woman easily found a seat next to him. Her nimble fingers danced across his shoulders with surprising insistence. He greeted her heartily and presented his full back for the nymph’s consideration.
Crys mastered her form years ago. She simultaneously appeared fluid to cover a larger area of his skin and solid to massage the muscles. His neck proved a large bundle of knots as if he tossed and turned all night. Whatever could have caused that?
“You must be very hard working to create such tension in your muscles, Sir Knight.” She worked her fingers further down his torso as she spoke. “I know of a way to relieve such stress.”
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nbsp; Her powers held his senses firmly as she led him to her lake. The sisters quickly hid behind a large collection of rocks to keep out of the way. Crys slid out of her dress and into the water with a practiced dive. Peter, unnoticing of her nakedness, stripped to his underpants and joined her.
The cold water helped heighten his senses. A full moon’s reflection rippled across the surface of the lake as they came up. Crys moved close to him and continued working his sore limbs. In the water, she could extend her reach far more than on soil. She rubbed his arms and legs at the same time, lulling the paladin deeper under her control. After several moments, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close.
Peter snapped awake and realized his situation. Another temptress sent to distract him! This time she would not succeed. He pushed her to arm length and swam to shore. Perhaps he was being too hard on the fair maiden, he thought to himself. After all, she was likely weak minded and easily used by the forces of darkness. It was his sworn duty as a paladin to protect her.
“Come, maiden,” he said. “Dry off by the fire.”
“I would rather have a blanket,” she told him.
Crys humbly pulled her gown on and joined him outside the tent. Peter carefully helped her dry off, a difficult task for one made of water. The nymph used her magic on him while he was so close and distracted. Seeing his eyes begin to soften, she gently rubbed
Fantasy Creature Spotlight: Nymphs Page 3
