Ryance, who had closed his eyes part way through the flight, not out of fear but in the interest of protecting his vision, finally opened his eyes. What he saw didn’t impress him much. It was an old shack, sitting amid a dreary swamp. The thatched roof was thick, but tattered, and the stones that made up the rest of it were cracked in places, with the mortar crumbling between them. The door was made of weathered wood that had most of the color bleached out of it. Moments after landing, it opened up to reveal the form of a young woman. She looked fairly normal, if a little too far on the showy side, but then she smiled, and the expression was not one of comfort or mirth. In his mind, she could only be one person.
“How dare you smile at me like that; you have no right. I’ll wipe that look off your face; your evil will never triumph.” All Ryance had was his bravado right now; the wicked creature that had plucked him from his horse still had a clawed grip on each of his arms.
“You’re right. My evil won’t triumph. I will triumph. It’s very amusing that you think otherwise.” Vynera’s laughter was clear as a bell, but not nearly so pleasant. Ryance, who had been brought up firmly believing in the teachings of his people, of the cause he served, had never been mocked this way. It was maddening. Vynera held her smile for a moment longer before it faded into a business-like expression. She coldly looked past Ryance to the dragonman behind him. “Take him to the dungeons, and then come and find me. We have more work to do,” she ordered. Ryance saw her disappear into the house again. Behind him, the grotesque creature pushed him, trying to force him into the house. Ryance resisted, of course, tried to fight with every fiber of his being, but it was no use. Into the house he went, leaving behind the sunlight.
Jyshen hauled Ryance down into the cells, throwing the angry knight into one of them. They were stark, but kept moderately clean. Vynera was cruel, yes, but she took her studies very seriously, and a sick test subject was hardly ideal. But that wasn’t much consolation to Ryance; all he saw was that there were cold, iron bars between him and freedom. And he had a lot to do with that freedom; he had people to warn of Vynera’s return, and a sweet fiance who loved him waiting at home, not realizing that he had been dragged away to such an ignoble place.
“Let me out!”
“Why should I?” asked Jyshen, folding his arms and leaning sideways against a wall.
“Because I will be more merciful to you if you let me out now,” said Ryance as though he was conferring a great favor. The dragonman burst into laughter so hard that he ended up spitting fire, which startled him somewhat; had hadn’t known he was capable of such a thing. He stored that away for later.
“Just how are you in a position to offer me mercy, silly human? You’re on that side of the bars, and I’m on this one. No one knows where you are, and no one will ever find you.” His speech ended in more laughter and flames. Growing tired of the knight’s posturing, he turned and left him to stew in his cell. Vynera, met him in the halls.
“Well done,” Vynera said. “He’s quite feisty, isn’t he? A bit loud though. Unfortunately, the spell I have in mind won’t cure him of that. Too late now; we’ll have to make do with what we have.”
“What do you have in mind for him?” Jyshen asked, a little apprehensively. He had no emotional loyalty to Vynera, but he also feared being replaced; there was no guarantee that she would let him live if his usefulness were to dry up. Vynera didn’t miss the note in his voice.
“Worry not, my loyal servant. Once his transformation is complete, I will not be keeping him nearby. His usefulness will be far greater the further he is from me,” Vynera said, turning towards Jyshen and facing him directly. “Besides, you have been so very well behaved.”
“I despise him; I hope he suffers,” grunted Jyshen, suddenly aware of how directly Vynera was looking at him.
“Oh, he will, I can promise you that much. I will turn him into a creature, just as feared as you, but with the ability to spread his curse throughout the land: an evilness that grows from a lust for blood and death. No matter how strong or stubborn this knight is, he will have to give in to my plans. He must feed or feel overwhelming hunger pains; either way he suffers,” said Vynera, reaching out to briefly touch her servant’s cheek.
“Good,” Jyshen didn’t waste any further words to let her know how much it pleased him to hear her plans for the insufferable knight.
“We have more preparations to make. While you were hunting for him, I did all the preparations I could that were safe to complete ahead of time. But now, I must actually weave the spell together. And this time, I will need your aid.”
Vynera led the dragon into one of her casting rooms. Glyphs were carved into the floor, candles placed in various key points of the room. A circle bordered with even more glyphs dominated the center, and there was an almost human shaped blank spot in the middle. A channel led from the bottom of the blank spot into a deep hollow in the floor. Placed within the hollow were several ingredients, some of which Jyshen could recall collecting for Vynera in the past. It looked well set up to Jyshen, and he wasn’t sure what else she had in mind for him to do; he was no magic caster.
Lying down in the center, Vynera spread her arms to the side, and Jyshen could see that some of the grooves in the floor ran very close to where her arms were. Vynera beckoned him to come closer, and he knelt beside her, wings folding along his back. Pulling a knife from her belt, she handed it to him. With a glance he could tell it wouldn’t make a very efficient weapon in combat, but it was certainly sharp enough to pierce skin.
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“I’m going to need you to bleed me a little,” Vynera said calmly. “This spell can’t be done without blood, and the pain will sharpen my focus.” She lowered her eyelids slightly. “Just a small nick on each arm should suffice; the magic will see that it goes where it is required.” There was no hesitation in her expression, no hint that she feared any sort of betrayal from him. But it wasn’t trust; she just felt her advantage was so strong that she could counter whatever ill intentions he might have. Jyshen did consider it for a moment, as he always had when an opportunity presented itself. So far, however, the benefits of keep her alive always outweighed the risk of attacking her. There was too small a reward for too great a risk.
The knife felt small in his large hands, but he was able to manage it with precision. Vynera made a small sound of discomfort as her skin parted way under the knife, a trickle of blood starting to drip down her arm. Once it hit the floor, there was a slightly hissing, and Jyshen watched in awe as the red liquid was forced down the grooves to the hollow at the base of the circle. He cut her other arm, and the same thing happened, which he watched in fascination. Vynera’s expression hung half way between pain and elation; she was losing blood, yes, but she could feel the power building in the room. Quietly she was murmuring words beneath her breath. While incantations weren’t strictly necessary for a spell, the use of them did help with focus. With his task done, Jyshen started to rise, but Vynera made a noise in her throat.
“I’m not done with you yet,” she said. “The blood is an ingredient, but I still need a powerful catalyst.” Vynera was struggling faintly with her words. “A body has power in it other than in the blood itself,” she said. “My hands have to stay where they are now; I’ll have to leave the rest up to you.” Jyshen wasn’t entirely sure he was understanding what she meant, until she moved her knees further apart. “Be gentle, or not; I don’t care as long as you don’t break my concentration.” There was something unflattering about her approach, but Jyshen wasn’t a romantic, nor did he expect her to have any real interest in him. Part of him suspected it was some kind of trick or test, but the way she stared at him, with just the tiniest hint of apprehension, made him believe otherwise. He doubted she would show that sort of worry in front of him, even as a lure.
The act itself was detached, unemotional. It was incredibly tempting for Jyshen to take Vynera at her word, and see if she truly didn’t care if he was gentle or not. But, he decided it was wiser to exercise a little patience in the beginning to not have her burn fiery wrath upon him after the spell was over. So, while he wasn’t exactly gentle, he did ease into things slightly. As for Vynera herself, she didn’t exactly seem eager for him, but at the same time, she didn’t flinch away either. With his bulkier body, he was a little clumsy, but everything worked properly at least. Her body was responsive, but whenever Jyshen looked up at her, she had a distant look on her face, cold, even when a moan or sigh broke past her lips. It was mildly unnerving, but at the same time, it was a challenge. Jyshen so badly wanted to make her melt, and it was a contest of his drive versus her reticence.
In the end, though both were physically satisfied, neither of them felt any true satisfaction. Vynera had traded away her first experience for the power needed to complete her spell, while Jyshen had been acting on orders. It wasn’t ideal, but neither of them sought for, nor expected, ideals. They were the people that destroyed the ideals of others, so each of them accepted this and moved past any disappointments. The only thing that mattered to Vynera was that the spell had been boosted properly, and though she was exhausted by the end, she was well pleased with the end result; she had felt the surge of power ripple through her that made the more carnal pleasure a pale thing in comparison.
The only thing left for her to do was transfer the spell to the foolish knight. Although Vynera was weary down to her bones, she picked herself up off of the stone floor and crouched down to the hollow. Pooled within it was a dark red liquid that shone dully in the candlelight. With extreme care, she filled a bottle with the liquid and corked it quickly, not wanting to lessen the potency of the brew. Carrying it with her, using the utmost care, she returned to her room. Placing the bottle in a padded box, she closed the lid, hearing the faint click with a sense of satisfaction. Barely able to keep herself upright any longer, she quickly changed into a fresh robe and curled up in bed. Within moments she was asleep.
Jyshen, on the other hand, was still completely alert, his energy barely diminished. Now that he had a little time, he was tempted to go back and goad the knight again. He disliked Ryance rather intensely, but he felt his opportunities to provoke him would be limited once Vynera’s spell took effect. He wouldn’t admit to himself that it was also soothing to his ego to pick on someone who was further down the chain of power than he was. Jyshen came to a rather rude awakening, however, when he turned the corner and felt a stab of pain lancing through his side. Instinctively his hand went to the spot, and Jyshen found it was slick with blood. Turning fully he saw Ryance standing there, freed from his cell, sword drawn, the tip red from the wound he had given Jyshen. Inhaling sharply, he released a blast of flame towards the knight, hoping to scorch him in the tin can he wore, but Ryance managed to evade most of the attack.
“How did you get out?” he growled, finding the knight even more irritating now that he had the means to strike back.
“The token of luck my lady love left me proved to be quite fortunate indeed,” Ryance replied, giving the dragonman an answer that left him completely unsatisfied. Jyshen made a rumbling sound of disapproval deep in his chest before charing at his opponent. Ryance braced himself, aiming his sword at the dragonman’s shoulder. He miscalculated slightly, and ended up slicing deep into a wing instead. But, he didn’t count it as a loss; after all, the dragonman’s ability to fly was one of the reasons he was able to capture Ryance so easily to begin with. In some ways, the miscalculation benefited him better than the original swing would have.
“Love doesn’t open doors, stupid knight,” Jyshen growled, gritting his teeth against the pain in his wing; he hadn’t been seriously injured there before, and hadn’t realized how sensitive they were. Fearing that he might never be able to fly again, his anger against the knight grew into a seething rage.
“Maybe not, but the hairpin that was caught in the chain aided my cause nonetheless,” Ryance replied, taking another swing at the dragonman, who was starting to become more clumsy in his movements. The rest of the fight was quick and dirty, pitting righteous indignation against primal rage. As strong as Jyshen was, he was a petty criminal, not a trained warrior like Ryance was. Eventually Ryance brought down a mighty swing that slashed across Jyshen’s chest, scoring deeply into the flesh. With a howling, gurgling roar of pain, Jyshen sank to his knees, then pitched forward. Ryance didn’t bother to check if he was dead or not before he rushed from the room.