by Melody Rose
Just like a peasant to cry for attention like that, but somehow, she had the entire academy murmuring about her performance. I couldn’t abide this. Joan had swindled Professor Graham into thinking she was clever, and now? Now, she was corrupting Chef and Rebecca.
To top it all off, the redheaded spitfire was taking advantage of my silence.
“Oh! I see how it is!” Joan widened her stance and stood her ground, even more emboldened. “You’re just pissed because I’m making something of myself here, and you’ll have to admit I’m not a waste of space after all. I already aced my first class, and now, my picnic is a big hit.”
I hadn’t the slightest clue what a picnic was, but I assumed it was a barbaric lamb’s blood practice that involved sullying oneself while eating food off the ground. Perhaps this was some kind of mass hypnosis that caused Bouclier’s students to lose their minds and esteemed culture?
As for her other claim, she wasn’t entirely wrong, but there was the fact that I was never capable of convincing Professor Graham of my greatness. That meant the witch had probably gone senile. It was the only way I could explain my lackluster progress in her class and Joan’s undeserved praise.
“You flatter yourself,” I drawled to come across as aloof. “Neither of those are the reason that I am here. I noticed that the students had raced down here like a mania of minotaurs, and now I see that you are committing one of the most severe transgressions I can think of.” As I spoke, I spontaneously designed a threat. “Not even the detention cellar could right this. This calls for a punishment of a far greater order.”
Those malicious words caused all the students to stare at us in fearful curiosity, but for all their eavesdropping, they couldn’t be bothered to stop spooning some grotesque substance that didn’t at all look like a proper meal from their bowls. Nearly every mage at Bouclier was well aware that the worst offenses didn’t involve solitude in a cramped room, but rather subjection to the ravenous ogre that resided under our castle.
“I’ve had enough of your uncivilized lamb’s blood antics, and I will not stand idly by as you taint Bouclier with your disrespect,” I hissed sharply. my patience had already worn thin. “I’ll take matters into my own hands, and by that, I mean that Vrag will take care of you.”
Gasps filled the warm summer air, and the rhythm of many clattering spoons filled my ears. That name itself was enough to inspire fear in even the boldest mage, and they knew that I did not utter it lightly. I shot a quick glance behind Joan, and even Joan’s most vocal critics blanched and looked as though they’d lost their appetites. I’d never pulled this threat out when reprimanding a student before even though I’d peppered references to the ghastly ogre here and there.
Then again, before I met Joan, none had dared to defy me outright. Every student knew that their station was below me, and while accidents happened, obedience was always the ideal at this academy.
Joan crossed her arms under her ample chest and jutted it out defiantly, but I steeled myself against the allure of her curves. While it was unfortunate to not taste her before discarding her, she simply wasn’t worth the trouble or the pursuit. Besides, this would be more of a ritualistic affair, a sinister spectacle to get the blood rushing. This drastic choice would get her out of my system and insubordination out of hers. After a brief glance at her regrettably becoming gesture, I met her eyes with nothing but unadulterated coldness.
“Yeah, well, he can’t be any worse than you,” she spat out, unimpressed by my threat.
One of the students actually laughed at her obliviousness, a short, incredulous bark. However, Petra, the garden’s guardian, realized that I was going to deliver on my dark promise. As I sensed her prepare to chase me, I sank my fingers into Joan’s arm with a merciless grasp and wrenched her into the dining hall and out of everyone’s sight.
As I dragged Joan away with rapid steps and passed the open doorway, I shouted sternly over my shoulder, “Scelle cette porte! Autoriser aucune sortie! Shut this door! Allow no exit from here!” With that definitive order, the heavy, emerald-toned wood crashed down to the floor with a deafening thud.
I wasn’t going to risk any meddling, and with the door was shut, any enchanted creature was powerless to cross the threshold. I didn’t need Petra interrupting Aurelius or me chewing on my leg as I carried out my task. As for Chef, he could stand to remain in the garden and contemplate his wrongdoings. It wasn’t as though he’d starve. The rest of the students were immune to the barrier spell and could teleport out if they concentrated, a skill they could stand to hone every chance they had.
“You fucking maniac!” Joan screamed to the high cosmos behind me, even as she shook uncontrollably. “Where the hell are you taking me? You can’t get away with this!”
“Can’t I?” I strained my bicep to tighten my grip on her and then decided to hold on to both her arms to steady her as I looked deeply into her glistening eyes. A flash of defeat, or at least comprehension, dawned upon her. I had her at my mercy, and no one would report her disappearance.
Except… blast! That damn civvie lover. I’d have to shut Rebecca up before she could foil my plan by whining to one of the professors. While my father would be far too busy to attend to a small matter such as this, I still would not brook any interference at all. I’d simply have to expend just a bit more energy before I could begin with my discipline. I’d trained my body enough to not require a strength charm, so I had the will left to remove the pesky obstacle in my way. I’d need silence, however, and relative peace to accomplish my next spell.
I swiftly switched positions and clasped a hand over Joan’s mouth to muffle her complaints, then snaked an arm across her waist to secure my hold on her. To completely subdue her, I spun around so that my back was pressed against the nearest wall, allowing me to lean into it and eliminate the effort required to maintain my balance. I did my best to ignore her delightful squirms and focused on tightening my stomach. Directing my attention to that tension allowed me to numb myself to any other outside sensation.
In order to select the target of my hex, I evoked Rebecca in my mind’s eye and imagined her insufferably excited face and ridiculous pigtails. I even focused on the stupid way they would wobble about when she prattled on about lamb’s blood entertainment. When I felt certain that I had created the energetic cord between myself and my victim, I pictured Rebecca’s lips sewn shut.
Of course, that was just symbolic, but the loss of speech would be the same. Still, she could devise any number of ways to try to rescue her traitorous friend. Fully aware of that, I added a long-distance hypnosis curse on Rebecca to rob her of the ability to express herself for the rest of the day.
“Suivez le chemin des morts aujourd'hui. Follow the path of the dead today,” I declared with deliberation and intention, not an iota of guilt to trouble me. I really just needed a couple of hours, but I reasoned that the duration of the hex was fair for her crimes.
“Alright, fantastique. Your silly little friend is powerless to come to your aid,” I hissed into Joan’s ear and smelled the sweat dampen the nape of her neck. It wasn’t an unpleasant scent, and I was quite surprised that a lamb’s blood actually had a delicate natural fragrance. “Now, let’s proceed with your lesson.”
I was a bit spent after disabling Rebecca, so I couldn’t teleport us directly to the ogre’s pit. No matter, it would add to my anticipation and Joan’s terror to drag her along the downward spiral of winding staircases that lead to the depths of Bouclier. Vrag would likely be the most excitable and worked up out of the three of us since his kind, a carnivorous lot, were intensely attuned to the scent of flesh. In fact, this ogre, an ancestral prisoner of war that still wasted away underneath the castle, had never whetted his appetite with a young treat before. He was only thrown the artificial meats that had become the enchanted standard for centuries, and I’m sure that this poor substitute had driven him ravenous and mad.
I pulled myself out of my sadistic reveries to release my hand from ov
er Joan’s mouth, and just a pinprick of shame needled at me. I had applied more pressure than was strictly necessary while I was working my spells. Angry red marks marred her pale face and looked to be seared into her flesh, although I took heart that they’d fade. I normally never did anything that was not precisely calculated, and I was irritated at my lapse in judgment.
Determined to forge ahead regardless of that setback, I wordlessly grabbed hold of her forearm. This time, I took care to circle my fingers around the fuller portion so that Joan would reasonably be able to endure the pain. I considered that a token of unwarranted tenderness, but the lamb’s blood did not agree with me. She made use of her voice to such a degree that I winced in pain at the volume.
“Jesus fucking Christ! Do you have an HR…? Okay, stupid fucking question… Do you have some type of MR department here? Mage relations? This is assault, and if I find out that I can file a lawsuit in Lemuria, so help me…” she ranted nonsensically. I was certain that the fright had gone to her head and disoriented her.
“No, that won’t do,” I warned her softly and clicked my tongue in disapproval. With my free hand, I loosened my cravat, and for an odd reason, that seemed to fascinate Joan momentarily as she peered over her shoulder to watch me. Perhaps she wondered what else I had prepared for her.
But, before I could predict her next move, Joan drove a sharp elbow into my ribs and wrestled out of my grasp. I roared in frustration as she delivered more force than I expected. I couldn’t stagger back as I was already against the wall, so now I found myself cornered. An absolute embarrassment as the most powerful mage of Bouclier.
She then furrowed her brow, and I could gather that a nasty scheme was brewing in her mind, but I was too late. Joan yelled and channeled all her available will, an incredible but complex feat for a mage who hadn’t had time to concentrate on her spell.
“Grains of salt! Gritty as sand! Great for seasoning, but burns the eyes!” Joan declared as her eyes flashed with equal measures of rage and apprehension. A small torrent of white particles coursed out of her palm, but her quivering arm and self-doubt diluted her spell somewhat. The sneaky twit only managed to fling a fistful of salt into one of my eyes.
“Agh!” I growled as I cupped a hand over half of my bombarded face in shock. She had dealt a sting to both my eye and my pride, and I was temporarily stunned. I’d never been attacked in my life except for enchanted sparring, and while this wasn’t a fatal injury, I could hardly make sense of this dose of pain. It wasn’t that I couldn’t physically tolerate it, but rather that it was an insult to all I stood for.
“Whoa! It actually worked?” Joan remarked in delighted surprise, drunk off of her small victory.
I winced as I ruefully watched her celebrate besting me and decided to use her distraction to my advantage. My energy was trickling back into my body with even more heated power than was typical. Her assault must have provoked a new response within me that thrived off of pure fury, as I had never experienced such a vigorous rush of will wash through me before.
While I hadn’t yet made my mark in my enchanted cooking classes, I was well versed in many crafts, particularly those that entailed offensive spells and elemental magic. To prevent Joan from tricking me again, I needed to immobilize her even with an eyesore with irritation. I didn’t require precision for my next tactic and just needed to visualize her completely bound.
“Tiens mon assaillant avec du lierre! Restrain my assailant with ivy!” I demanded of my energies as they unleashed themselves with full intensity, carrying out my bidding with alarming speed. Vibrant green vines of leafy ivy glided from the ground and slithered around Joan before she had a chance to react. She let out a cry as she collapsed, but I wasn’t terribly concerned. The floors were hardwood, after all, not some skull-shattering marble, and there was already plenty of spare ivy to soften her fall.
“You goddamn asshole! I went easy on you!” Joan cried out uselessly as I ignored her momentarily. “I didn’t magic up some deathly pepper spray, and I could have included a bit about burning like Hell! This is fucking low, even for you!”
“Nettoyez-moi avec de l'eau de guérison. Cleanse me with healing water,” I muttered as I waved my palm across my impaired eye. A thin layer of soothing liquid flushed the salt out of it, and I was in much better spirits to be restored to my full strength. Perhaps her misguided outburst would actually prove favorable since she had stoked a fire within me. I felt fully alive and ignited, ready to complete my mission.
“No, I believe you are the one that is quite low, Joan,” I drawled in amusement as I took unhurried steps toward her, now unfazed by her insolence. She was unable to act out and inconvenience me, so I thought I might as well have a bit of fun.
I placed the toe of my leather shoe against Joan’s side and lightly pressed forward to roll her face up. I had molded my will to design cords that looked like ivy, yet were indestructible as chains, and I’m sure if the lamb’s blood could see them as I did, even she would have to admit that they suited her quite nicely. My last consideration was that they would bind Joan in a fashion that accentuated her features for my entertainment. I could now afford to indulge myself in the sight as she wasn’t in any shape to disarm me.
“What is the fucking point to all of this?” she demanded as she squirmed helplessly but resolutely on the ground. “Is this some dumbass joke about eating off the ground? You should really expand your horizons past these sick games, you freak!”
“And you should really listen to reason and try following rules for a change, you disobedient lamb’s blood.” As I studied her full lips, I recalled one of my earlier intentions and pulled my loosened cravat from my starched collar. “Besides, think of it as an homage. You love the wonder of the outdoors so much that I thought you might like to wear it. And oh, do you look fetching!”
I crouched down to her level and slipped the voluminous silk of my cravat between her lips, then snapped my fingers.
“Remplissez sa bouche et enroulez-la autour d'elle. Fill her mouth and wrap around her,” I whispered as the ends of the sleek fabric knotted themselves at the back of Joan’s head like it had a mind of its own. Some soft, meek noises that bore no resemblance to the typical bleating of the rebellious lamb’s blood weakly escaped the makeshift gag. A beautiful melody, really.
“Even lovelier. You should be thanking me for these marked improvements, Joan!” I joked cruelly and then scooped her up, tossing her over my shoulder as though she were as light as a sack of hay. “Shall we?”
I laughed as she kicked her bound legs uselessly in the air. Now that I was replenished, I had enough energy to teleport directly to the castle dungeon, but I thought that would have been terribly anti-climactic given all the care I had put into the moment. Instead, I strode confidently toward the exit of the dining hall and paused to peer out. Not that any mage would intervene to stop me, but where there were students, professors were bound to be. I didn’t care to explain myself to them, but luckily, I wouldn’t have to. Most professors only bothered to tear themselves away from their studies and crafts when they sensed that mages were awaiting their instruction, and since everyone was temporarily trapped in the garden, they could not send any distress signal. From the looks of it, the students were woefully undisciplined and had yet to teleport themselves out of their present situation.
Secure with the fact that I would be unbothered, I walked out the doorway and proceeded on my way. I was not yet straining from the task of carrying Joan as she flopped with great fervor, but I did quicken my pace so that the girl didn’t tax my energy too much. When I reached the end of the left passage, any other student would have believed it to be a dead end. The walls were bare and only had unlit wall sconces. It was this way because I didn’t want anyone to suspect where I carried out my worst tortures. I rapped my knuckles against the cold stone of the wall I had previously enchanted, and an amber-red portal swirled into view.
As I stepped in to access the castle dungeon, the radiant
light had dissipated and confirmed that there was no way out unless I willed it to be so. Only a few weakly flickering candles affixed to the walls lit the way, but that didn’t matter to me since I knew this entire castle like the back of my hand. Joan shrieked in pure terror at this prospect, a high-pitched wail that partially escaped the cravat in her mouth. I decided that I might as well relieve her of it since there was no one to hear us here.
Other than Vrag, that is.
“I know how much you love having your voice heard, Joan,” I remarked richly, my tone dripping with amusement. “So I thought I would accommodate you. Do you like the ambiance? It’s very unique, isn’t it? The forbidden garden and now the castle dungeon! The complete tour you’ve always wanted!”
When I finished teasing her and was ready for her protests, I removed the cravat. I shifted my position on the spiral staircase so that she could see the deep chasm that would lead to a lethal fall should I make the unlikely misstep or she became too passionate about fighting her way out of my grasp.
“Again! I’ve told you this before, but I guess I have to repeat it to get through that thick skull of yours! I… did… not… ask… to… be… here! I was just trying to make the most of it while I was here.” She screamed so hard that I could see the muscles of her neck strain. Even though I didn’t check her heartbeat, I could feel the rush of frenetic energy throughout her system. Her nerves were on edge, but she wasn’t quite at the point of believing she was truly endangered.
That was brave of her.
