Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Author: Invid Fan
Title: The Magic of Life
Summary:That life is magical is well known,the SOURCE,less so,and those
who practice the dark and light arts hold their secrets dear.Apprentice
witch Wendy wanted entry to that world.Goddess forgive her...
Keywords: mf, Mf, preg, magic, first

   ****

   The Magic of Life By Invid Fan (c)2012

   Chapter 1

   Wendy trembled as the door slowly creaked open before her.

   This was a tradition.  She knew that.  Or thought she knew.  Like much
in the occult, let alone among witches, knowledge was power, and thus rare.
False rumors were spread, to keep the ignorant suppressed.  Truth was also
spread by rumor, in the hopes it would be assumed to be false.  Thus, those
on the lowest rungs, like Wendy, absorbed it all, assumed all was true
until shown to be false.  After all, when everything seemed to be possible,
what could be dismissed out of hand?

   Peering into her Mistress's inner chamber, Wendy began to wish she had
dismissed this one.

   Slowly, bare feet not wanting to step on stone which suddenly felt as
cold as death, she moved inside.  Every apprentice did this.  Snuck into
the rooms of their teacher/master/lord.  Peered around, not disturbing
anything, hoping to learn some nugget of knowledge to help them, then ran
like hell.  A rite of passage.  To succeed, was to know your own strength,
know your limits were NOT your limits.  Failure...

   Well, you never found a "former" apprentice witch among the living.

   Wendy kept her eyes off the nude boy strapped to the table.  She needed
to focus, concentrate.  Mistress Quinnia would not be gone forever.  Might
not be gone now, for all she knew.  The call could have been nothing, or
maybe she'd magic her way there and back, appearing suddenly in front of
the traitorous teen.  Time was an unknown variable, a spell component with
inexact limits.  She had to be quick, yet careful.  Speed without skill was
as useless as skill without speed.

   The room was well lit, for being underground.  Oil lamps hung from thick
ceiling beams, turned low when the room was empty of its owner but now
bright due to the haste of her departure.  Rough stone lined the walls,
crumbling mortar filling the gaps.  There were water stains, running down
the walls in many places, but the smooth stone floor was dry.  Shelves
filled two of the walls end to end, books and bottles crammed into every
inch of space.  They were neat, free of dust, and well organized.  Wendy
recalled the tattered volumes she was given to use, falling apart, parts of
pages missing.  So, Mistress Quinnia wasn't the shambling slob she had
thought.  That, alone, had made this worth while.

   In the far corner was the bed, neatly made, furs clean.  Well they
should be, given the time Wendy had spent in the past year cleaning those
goddess awful things.  She avoided the area, suspecting if there were any
protective spells they might be there.  If there were such things.  Her
knowledge, let alone skill, was lacking.

   Her nude body, for clothing was not to be wasted on lowly beings such as
her, slowly circled the room.  Wendy's fingers itched as she passed
priceless books of knowledge.  She wanted to open them, let her eyes drink
from them.  It would be years, decades, if ever, before such knowledge
would come to her.  She could take a book.  Take a dozen.  Flee.  Flee with
the knowledge, train herself.  Others had done it.  At a cost, yes, but...

   Once again standing before the open door, Wendy finally allowed herself
to look at the long table that dominated the center of the room.  It was
made of a thick, solid oak.  Sturdy, unyielding.  Lying on its surface,
arms and legs stretched and tied down, lay a boy.  Teen.  He, like her, was
nude.  He, like her, was a servant of the witch Quinnia.  His fate,
though...

   The boy was blond, hair spread out on the table around his shoulders. 
White skin, almost abnormally so, was stretched over a thin, bony frame. 
His maleness...  she quickly looked away from it.  It was hard, stretching
up and over his belly.  In desperation Wendy looked at his face.

   Blue eyes looked silently back at her.  He said nothing.  He didn't have
to.  Those eyes said it all.  He knew his fate.  Knew...  she was not going
to help him.

   Wendy bit her lower lip.  She did not know much about magic.  Worse, she
did not know what she didn't know, or if what she did know was right.  The
boy, though, was obviously to be used.  He was male, after all, and Quinnia
female.  Magic had a gender.  To cast male magic, you needed male
components.  Female magic, female components.  Magic came from life. 
Thus...

   Luckily, life did not have to be lost to be used, although the whispered
rumor was that it could be.  Power came from the life-force unique to each
gender.  For women...  it came from that which gave life to the next
generation.  Blood, the blood shared with the unborn baby.  For males... 
sperm, giver of life.  Such components need not be human, and what little
magic Wendy had managed to master had been practiced on animals.  The
phrase "like getting sperm from a mouse" was sadly now not an abstract
saying.  For you couldn't use your own blood, or sperm.  The whole point of
magic was adding power to your internal will, using that to project on and
change the world.  To use your own inner reserves would be to quickly drain
yourself for even the smallest spell.  Thus, masters in the craft
collected...  servants, to provide what they needed.

   Wendy swallowed hard.  She was not such a servant.  Such creatures did
not live long, it was said.  The boy before her...  the beautiful, blond
boy...

   "You disappoint me, girl."

   Wendy whirled.

   Mistress Quinnia stood in the doorway, leaning on her staff.  Her black
eyes, peering out from behind scraggly black hair, froze the teen.  Her
black robe clad body, though lean, seemed to fill the exit, blocking all
thought of escape.  With a sigh, which seemed to hold a genuine touch of
regret, the witch looked around the room.

   "I will be honest, I thought you had already been here.  Thought you had
moved something, in fact, almost defying me to confront you.  I had liked
that, one reason I moved up your training.  To find you here now..." She
shook her head, eyes going back to the trembling girl.  "I looked hard to
find someone like you.  I will have to look harder next time."

   Wendy was going to die.  It could take days, or weeks, but she would
die. As surely as the boy next to her.  She had to escape!  But how?  HOW?
She knew no magic!  No magic this creature did not know she knew, at least!
Goddess, how could she be so STUPID!

   The witch took a step into the room.  Wendy backed up, moving down the
table.  Her hands cast out, trying to grab something, anything.  Something
she could throw.  Use.  Nothing!  Nothing...

   Almost as if drawn to it, her right hand touched the boy's hard member.

   The spell came to her mind out of nowhere.  She must have seen it,
obviously.  Read it in some book, at some time.  One did not invent spells
out of pure fantasy.  Wendy could see the words, letters burning the blue
of male magic before her eyes.  She could feel her hand curl around the
soft burning hardness of the boy, feel the energy.  She saw Mistress
Quinnia pause, eyes narrowing.  That was all she needed.

   Wendy's left hand came up, making two sharp gestures.  Her right pumped
once.

   "Pozostawiac!"

   ****

   Jack was no longer a prisoner.

   He could sense that, without even opening his eyes.  The wind, for one,
the feel of cool air flowing over his body, was a good sign.  So too the
grass, under and around his nude body, long blades molding to his form.  He
could feel the sun on his face.  That wonderful, yellow sun.  He moved. 
That, too, indicated freedom.  His arms and legs were no longer bound.  He
could bend his knees.  Glorious!  There was pain, too, the feel of aching
muscles and raw skin.

   The pain of freedom.

   He sat up, eyes opening once he was sure he wouldn't be looking directly
into the sun.  He was somewhere.  That, at least, was certain.  It was a
grassy field, not quite on a hilltop but perhaps a bit off the summit.  The
ground slopped gently down to his left, and up on the other side.  Figuring
if there was some danger there was nothing he could do about it right then,
he looked himself over.  Jack's wrists were in the worst shape, the rough
ropes having left painful rings of raw skin.  He touched them, gingerly. 
It was going to hurt to use his hands much, at least for a day or two. 
Drawing his legs up, he saw his ankles were in a bit better shape.  They
had been free more of the time, as he had been made to walk to his doom
when needed.

   That, at least, probably hadn't changed.

   Gingerly, almost fearing what he'd find, Jack touched his cock.  It was
soft, laying against his body like it was supposed to.  Gone was the raging
hardness, the unbearable buildup of...  something.  The witch had done
something to him.  What, he had no idea.  Now that he was free, he didn't
want to know.  It was over.

   Deciding there was nothing more to be gained by just sitting there, Jack
slowly stood.  He paused, once he was up on one knee, making sure
everything was working.  His ankles caused him to grimace, protesting the
work.  Silently he chastised them to quit whining, do their job.  With
another push up, he rose to his feet.  He raised his hands to the sky, eyes
taking in the clouds.

   Free!

   A moan a short distance away had him dropping back down into a crouch.
Something was over there.  Someone.

   Dropping down onto all fours, wrists now joining ankles in rebellion,
Jack slowly crawled through the grass.  Detouring around a large rock, he
found her, sprawled on her back as he had been.  Pausing, not wanting to
get too close, he sat, taking her in.  She was plump.  Not fat, as an adult
would be fat, but perhaps the plumpness of a girl turning into a woman who
was filling out in certain places early.  Her hips were wide, fleshy,
breasts big for her size and seemingly almost all nipple.  Her skin was a
dark brown, the brown of the wet clay down by the stream where he had grown
up.  Jack could almost imagine someone had formed her out of it, sculpting
those curves, stopping before the job was done.  Her hair was a pale red,
spread out around her face.  A small patch was also between her legs.

   He had seen her.  In the witches lair.  She..  well, now she was
outcast. Whatever she had been, whatever deal she and the witch had made,
it was over.

   That did not make her friend, though.

   The girl's eyes opened.  There was confusion, silent but familiar.  Jack
watched her mirror his own mental process, waited for her to come to grips
with what had happened.  There was no hurry.  If they could be found,
caught, it would happen regardless.  He, at least, was helpless in that
regard.

   Her eyes fell on him.  There was no reaction for a good second or two,
apart from a veil of confusion passing over her face.  It lifted in an
instant, though, the girl quickly rolling away from him.  She almost lost
control, the slope starting to get steep under her, but after a few feet
she wrenched her body sideways and forced herself to her knees.  The large
breasts heaved.  Seeing them now, in their natural state, hanging down
slightly, distracted Jack.  His eyes came back up to meet hers, though. 
He'd have time to look later.

   "W-who..."

   Her voice was frightened.  That, at least, was some comfort to him.  To
be afraid of him meant she was weak herself.  More of an equal.

   She steadied herself, body taking on a more relaxed stance.  Recognition
came to her eyes.

   "You're the boy.  From Mistress Quinnia's room."

   Jack nodded.  If she said so.  He had no idea who the witch had been,
nor cared.  She paused, thinking.  Slowly, she shook her head.

   "I honestly don't know what I did.  The spell...  it should have removed
HER, not me, and definitely not you too!  Not that I wish you were still
back there!  Goddess, no!  I can't imagine..." Her voice faltered.  Giving
her head a violent shake, long pale red hair whipping this way and that,
she regained focus.  "Anyway.  I'm Wendy."

   Wendy stuck her hand out.  Jack cocked his head, a smile touching his
lips.  Her expression faltered again, only to become a laugh.  There was
now a good six feet between them, making handshakes a bit difficult.

   "Goddess, sorry!  I'm so stupid today." Wendy walked on her knees
towards him, hands occasionally going to the ground for balance.  Her
breasts hung down nicely at such times.  Stopping a foot away, she sat up
again and reached out her hand.  Jack took it.  Her hand was warm.  The
palm and fingers were calloused, those of long days of labor.  There was a
softness, though.  A softness he liked.

   Knowing what was going to come next, he answered her unspoken question.
Still holding her right hand, his left moved up to touch his throat.  Her
eyes widened, understanding.

   "You can't talk," she whispered.  Jack nodded.  He took her hand in both
of his, palm up, pausing a moment to admire the lighter brown there. 
Taking a finger, he slowly traced the four letters of his name.  "Jack..."
He nodded again as she spoke, smiling.  So, she could spell too, at least
some.  He was not too well read himself, but this at least was something.

   Wendy, seemingly reluctantly, pulled her hand back.  Her eyes looked
around them.

   "Well, Jack, I have no idea where we are.  Far away, I think.  Farther
than she'll be willing to come after me, and you, probably.  I think I
really screwed up what she was planning for you, which I'm NOT sorry
about." She seemed about to say more, but quickly moved on.  "We probably
should see what's around, think about food, shelter...  clothing." Her
entire body seemed to gain a dark red tinge.  Jack just nodded.  With one
fluid motion, ignoring the various pains, he stood.  Reaching a hand down,
he pulled her up.  The dark girl came up to his shoulder, although the
slope made such comparisons inexact.  Releasing her hand, Jack motioned for
her to lead the way.

   Slowly, with dark clouds beginning to approach over the horizon, the two
teens began their adventure.

   ****

   Chapter 2

   Gary sighed.  Just once, he thought, couldn't he be attacked in nice,
sunny weather?

   Sword drawn, he stood up with his back to the wagon, rain feeling like
hail on his bare head.  He could barely see the three "potential" thieves
spread out before him.  Out of habit, Gary refused to consider them such
until they actually attacked.  Before then, there was always the
possibility they'd run away, and a thief who didn't bother him was no thief
in his book.

   "I have three over here, Dad."

   Samantha's voice was strong, confident, carrying well through the rain
and over the wagon.  For once, Gary was glad she looked a bit younger than
her years.  With her hair and figure, holding her weapon as one with at
least some skill, they'd probably confuse her in this weather for a son, or
hired help.  Anything to keep these idiots back for a few extra seconds. 
Anything to give them time.

   Time for what, he wished he knew.

   Gary heard nothing from inside the wagon.  Good.  Polly was laying low.
In her condition, although the baby was not really showing, he did not want
her involved.  He could picture her staying low, below wooden sides lest
her shadow appear on the cloth stretched over the wagon's frame.  She
probably had his bow, sliding it out of its protective sheath, holding it
for comfort as much as for protection.  If there were any arrows, Gary
would be thinking of ways she might get it to him.  Alas, making more had
been on the agenda for that evening's campfire.  For not the first time,
his confidence had been his undoing.

   "There's easier money to be had," he half shouted, shifting his stance
in the mud.  "I suggest you look elsewhere and let us be." The three before
him were silent.  Not good.  There were no threats, no demands they give up
their gold or food.  These men were not afraid of a fight, nor did they
want witnesses.  They were probably also desperate, to be out in this
weather when travelers would be few.  The storm had come up early enough
most sane people would have returned to town or their camp, if they had
even broken it yet.  He would have as well, preferring to hunker down in
that hollow one more night, but Polly had begun to feel queazy.  She needed
something, even if just the mildest of herbs to ease her worry.  Tonight
had to be spent in the next village.

   "Dad..."

   Sam's voice had the first hint of worry from the girl.  Some unspoken
sign had passed through the bandits.  The three before him, most likely
mirroring those on the other side, began to slowly step closer.  Their
drenched faces were set in expressions he had seen far too often in this
life.  There would be no quarter given.  He adjusted his stance again. 
He'd have to wound them, then jump to his daughter's aid...

   A blurry white shape came out of the forest beyond the thieves.  Gary
tried not to react, not sure whether this was friend or foe, but hoping
friend.  Another shape, dark, seemed to be hanging back at the tree line.
Hoping to keep them distracted, he yelled.

   "Hold them, Sam.  I'll be over once I've dispatched these three."

   "No hurry..."

   His love for her in that moment knew no bounds.  She would calmly face
death, to protect her older sister.  No more could he have asked even of a
son.

   Out of the rain came a naked, blond, white skinned boy, eyes wide with
rage.  He held a thick, three foot long stick in his hands, raised over his
head.  With a silent yell, he smashed it into the head of the middle
bandit, catching the left most one on the rebound.  Gary leapt forward,
sword slashing at the surprised remaining man.  It cut through his sword
arm, the cry of pain echoing in the rain.  Whirling, hoping to God the boy
could hold his own, he leapt up onto the wagon seat.  Sam was backed up
against the wagon, sword held out before her.  As he took a step down the
bench she lunged out at the nearest foe, a well timed strike that had the
man stumbling back.  Her left side was open, though.  With a yell, Gary
jumped down on the thief about to strike her down.

   ****

   None of Jack's childhood tumbles had been to the death, but he knew what
to do with a dagger as much as the next human.  As the raggedly dressed
ruffian staggered before him, Jack snaked his hand out and pulled the
weapon from the man's belt.  Stepping forward, he grabbed his shoulder with
his left, reached around, and slit his throat.  Letting go, he leapt on the
back of the first man he had attacked, who now was on all fours and clearly
out of it.  Various bits of sharp metal on the man's body dug into his
flesh, but Jack ignored them as he drew his short blade across a second
unshaven throat.  As the body fell to the mud, he jumped back, head
swinging around.

   The last remaining man was on his knees, holding a bleeding arm.  His
long sword lay in the mud, half buried.  The two men's eyes met.  Jack...
did not want to kill this one.  It was one thing to protect strangers, even
if there was no clear indication the strangers deserved rescue, still
another to kill a man out of the fight.  Or so he told himself.  Jack
planned on sleeping well that night, morally questionable actions be
damned.

   Plus, his wrists were hurting.

   "Run or die."

   Wendy's voice came from behind him.  The thief's eyes widened, but Jack
didn't give himself the luxury of looking away.  The man shakily stood,
turned, and staggered back the way the wagon had come.  Jack watched him
go, thankful.  Turning, he saw Wendy had picked up a sword.  She pointed it
at him.

   "That was a very stupid thing to do, Jack."

   "Yes, and we thank you."

   The two turned towards the front of the wagon.  Two figures, swords in
hand, walked around the pair of horses who had calmly waited throughout the
crisis.  They were dressed, not in finery, but in the well kept clothing of
those who saw some money come their way.  The man was tall, easily six
foot, with a build that seemed mostly lean muscle.  His short hair was
black, framing a face that was at once serious yet not unfamiliar to a
smile.  Beside him, a youth with similar hair regarded Jack with awe.  The
teen looked younger than him, although probably not by much.  His first
guess was it was the man's son, but something about the face made him
wonder if in fact it was a girl.  If so, the comparison between her and
Wendy was striking.  This one was slim, with the same walk as the man. 
There was no mistaking the family resemblance.

   Jack stood his ground as the two approached, dagger held loosely in his
hand.  Wendy came beside him, her drenched naked body, like his, covered
with goosebumps.  She put the sword point first into the mud, leaning
forward on the handle.

   "Don't thank me.  My friend here is much too nice to strangers." The
pair stopped three sword lengths away.  The man sheathed his weapon, the
teen pausing a moment before doing the same.  The man took a moment to wipe
the rain from his face, a futile gesture.

   "I'll thank both of you, if you don't mind.  My name's Gary.  This is my
youngest, Sam." Jack nodded at the two, his suspicion that it was a girl
confirmed.  There was no reason not to call her 'son' otherwise.  "They
approached us as our wheels got stuck in the mud.  Pure stupidity on our
part."

   "Stupidity makes the world go round." Wendy paused, flicking her eyes
over to Jack, who nodded.  She sighed.  "I'm Wendy, this is Jack.  He's
mute, or he could have given me better warning of what he was planning. 
We..." she gestured down at her nudity "...  have had a bad day, all
around. I don't even know where we are."

   The man's eyes narrowed.

   "Magic?"

   She nodded.

   Jack frowned.  This was taking too long.  Handing the knife to a
surprised Wendy, he stepped forward a few feet, raised his hands, and
slowly turned.  Coming back around, his eyes met Gary's.  The man nodded.

   "No mark, I see.  How about you, girl?" He looked past Jack towards
Wendy.  Jack had no idea if she had a witches mark or not.  It mattered not
to him, and he wanted to get everything in the open with these people.  The
two of them needed their help, and honesty was the best place to start. 
Jack's attention was drawn to the younger daughter.  Her eyes seemed to be
drinking him in, although they kept coming back to between his legs. 
Amusement coming to the fore, he flexed his cold-shrunken cock.  The
movement shocked her out of her trance, head dropping in embarrassment.

   "I have one mark," Wendy's voice came to him, "but my training is
nowhere near getting a second.  We are escaped from my Mistress, whisked
away...  goddess knows how far, to here."

   ****

   Gary regarded the well built girl.  She was telling the truth, so far as
that went.  If she was going to lie, no mark would be mentioned, and truth
be told he had no idea what a real magical mark might look like.  His
dealings with magic users had been at a distance, his arrow finding its
target in men and women who died just as easily as anyone else.  That fact
was a comfort to him, making his choice here somewhat less risky.  But only
somewhat.

   "You're in central Valnia, a few days travel from the city state of
Val." He saw the girl absorb the information, then shake her head.

   "Never heard of it, which is a good sign.  Not that I was taught much
regarding what cities were where." There was a flash of light, the rain
gaining in strength.  She looked up as thunder punctuated the moment. 
"Umm..."

   "Sam, get those two cloaks out of the back." Gary put a hand on his
daughter's back, giving her a slight push.  She burst into a run, almost
tripping in her haste, but a quick hand shooting out to grab part of the
brown mare's harness kept her up without losing a step.  He smiled, an
expression he kept a moment longer when he noticed the teen Jack also
smiling at the girl.  "Now, I can't offer you much, not even shoes, but if
you don't mind walking barefoot for another couple hours you can accompany
us to the next town, were we can get rooms and some food.  We can then talk
about settling the debt."

   The two strangers exchanged a look.  Gary had not settled on which one
was the leader yet, and suspected they hadn't either.  Jack turned back to
him and nodded.  Wendy turned and walked over to the fallen thieves.

   "Fine.  Let's at least loot these morons first."

   ****

   Just because Wendy understood why the stranger wasn't letting them ride
in his wagon didn't mean she was happy.  The rain had slackened mostly, it
was true, and her body under the hooded cloak was on the verge of being
non-cold, but she had been walking all day without food.  Well...  OK, they
had found some fruit and nuts, which she had mostly given to Jack.  She had
started the day with a good breakfast, after all, something he had lacked.
She wasn't all that tired yet, either.  They had been taking their time in
their walk, especially after the rain started.  There had been no
destination in mind, no idea which direction was best, and no shelter in
sight.  And this pace, with the mud trying to grab the wheels with every
inch traveled, was not much faster.  She had nothing to really complain
about.

   Wendy still mentally bitched.

   Conversation had died down after the first mile, neither side really
willing to impart too much information.  Jack's silence hadn't helped all
that much in that regard, which she felt was a good thing.  The boy was
much too...  trusting, helpful.  No sense of restraint that she could see.
And, naturally, after knowing him for all of most of a day she had his full
measure.  Wendy had a gift for that, knowing the real person.  Not everyone
did.  She was going to have to watch out for him, at least for a while.  No
way he was ready for the real world out here.

   That caused her to stop, Jack and the wagon continuing on up the road.
What did she know of him?  How long had he been held captive?  What,
exactly, had been Witch Quinnia's plan for him?  A source of male magic,
for sure, but...  what else?  If anything else.  It would be easy to over
think this, something else Wendy was good at.  She would get distracted by
a train of thought, not notice that in the world around her...

   ...the wagon was now thirty feet ahead.

   Letting out a groan that she now had to RUN in the mud, Wendy set out
after the wagon.  It was a small one, maybe ten feet long, up on four
spoked wheels and pulled by two horses.  Behind the driver's bench, curved
poles held up a canvas tent over the cargo area.  A flap covered the back,
tied down to keep the rain out.

   As she came closer, something...  tugged at her attention.  Wendy could
sense something.  Something that had been at the fringes of her mind, but
she had ignored.  Something...  pink?  But, pink was...

   The wagon's rear flap parted, a face barely visible.  The sense of pink
became stronger.  It was the pink of female magic.  Not of a witch, for
witches, and their male counterparts wizards, had little to no inherent
magic themselves.  No..  this was...

   There was a pregnant woman in the wagon.

   The flap opened more.  The girl inside was not much older than Wendy,
definitely not yet twenty.  Her hair was black, curly, falling to her
shoulders, her skin the same light tan as the man and girl up front.  Her
eyes were brown, almost innocent.  She regarded Wendy as a child would,
although there was intelligence there to be seen.  One delicate hand popped
out, motioning Wendy closer.  Unsettled, yet curious, Wendy walked a bit
faster.

   "You are...  Wendy?  The witch?"

   The woman's voice was soft, musical.  Not even seeing her body, Wendy
could see why she was already pregnant.  Her very essence seemed to exude
life, sexuality, yet she had the innocence to not understand where that
would lead her.  This was a woman that would need someone to watch over
her...  and, her father seemed to have failed.  Unless...  no, that would
be sick.

   "I'm not a witch," she told her, a feeling of regret coming to the fore,
"and probably, now, never will be."

   "But you DO know things?  Herbs?  Medicine?" The voice was anxious. 
Wendy nodded.

   "I know some things.  What works, and what doesn't."

   "Good." The flap opened more, revealing the young woman completely. 
"I'm Polly.  We need to talk."

   ****

   "Sorry about that, but...  well, you know.  Can't be too careful."

   Jack nodded in acceptance of Gary's rueful apology.  He could half hear
Wendy talking to the now revealed second daughter.  He tried not to listen
in, especially after hearing the word "witch".  If they were going to talk
about things in that direction, he wanted nothing to do with it.  Hell, now
that they had made contact with the outside world, he wasn't sure how long
he'd want to stick around with Wendy.  She wasn't a friend, after all.  Not
even a companion, and while he did owe her thanks for freeing him...  she
hadn't been going to before being caught herself.  His release had been...
accidental, and it wouldn't be good to forget that.

   "Polly's a pain anyway.  I try to ignore her myself."

   Grinning, Jack cocked his eye up at Sam.  The girl was sitting up next
to her father, currently holding the reigns as the wagon bumped merrily
along.  Walking next to her like this, her female traits were easier to
see. There were breasts, although very slight, hidden under the male work
shirt.  Her trousers could not quite hide the slight curve of her hips, and
the sandaled feet were definitely not male for all they were now covered
with mud.  Her hands, though, while delicate, were those of a worker. 
There was nothing pampered about the girl.

   He liked that.

   Jack felt a dryness in his throat.  It amused him, at least for a
moment. The air was full of water, yet what he was breathing in wasn't
enough to keep him from coughing.  Life was a mystery.  Reaching up, he
lightly tapped Sam's leg.  The girl looked down at him, startled and... 
was there something else there?  Jack pantomimed drinking.

   "Oh!  Of course!  Dad, hand me the flask!"

   Gary's look at his daughter sent a twinge of loss down Jack's spine. 
How long had his father been gone?  Five years?  More?  What would Dad
think of him now?

   "I think, my girl, our friend would prefer water to my personal supply.
Not that I begrudge our savior a drink, I'll be buying a few rounds for him
tonight, but water is best when you're tired and thirsty."

   "Um...  right."

   Jack thought he heard a blush in that reply.  He wouldn't have said no
to a real drink, but water probably was the medicine needed just then. 
There was a moment's fiddling around up there, the confusion of those who
had their area set up perfectly for expected activities and now had to do
something different.  Soon Sam's hand had a wooden cup in it, which she
held down towards him.  Jack took it, fingers touching hers.  He was right
about the roughness, the callouses, but the tops of her fingers were soft,
and seemingly red hot.  She almost jerked her hand away from the contact,
eyes shooting back to the horses and the road.

   Shaking his head, Jack took a log swig.

   Girls.

   ****

   The rain had picked up again in the late afternoon.  Twice the wagon hit
a muddy rut it couldn't get out of, twice Jack and Wendy helped Gary push
it up and onward.  They were tired, dirty...  yet, really, Jack found
himself happy.  Everything was so new, fresh.  He had never minded hard
work, and the ache in his legs was a feeling so familiar it was almost like
being home.  One glance at an unhappy Wendy, though, told all too well how
she felt about all this.

   The wagon came up a slight rise in the road, followed it around a bend,
then suddenly found itself at the tree line.  Gary reigned in the horses.

   "No idea what the name of this place is.  I'm assuming neither of you
have reason NOT to enter a town?"

   Jack shook his head, smiling.  Wendy just laughed, exhausted relief
clear in her voice.

   "If I'm wanted someplace, it's not here."

   "Nothing wrong with being wanted, in most cases." Wendy's eyes shot up
to the man as he clicked the reigns again.  Jack started forward as the
wagon lurched into motion, the girl pausing a moment before quickly
catching up.  She read too much into things.  Was too...  well, something.
It was too soon to make too many judgments about her.  He hadn't even known
her a day, after all.

   The forest mud trail gave way to a proper road, raising them up onto a
dirt embankment a few feet above the surrounding farmland.  The rain, which
had slackened a tad as they neared the end of the woodlands, seemed to now
be a light drizzle.  Jack was almost willing to believe the trees had in
fact caused the rain that had tormented them all day.  Before them, a long
earthen wall stretched across the road.  As a small rise gave them a good
view of the village, Jack saw the earthwork made a circle around the
settlement.  Wooden stakes projected outward, and there seemed to be a
stake filled moat around the entire place.  A wooden gate, now open, gave
entrance.  Gary looked down at the two walkers.

   "We'll get two rooms at an inn, if we're able.  Normally, we'd camp
outside towns when we're able, but tonight we'll splurge."

   "I've slept outside before," Wendy protested, although her voice clearly
was in favor of the inn.  "I-we can't take charity."

   It was times like this that Jack wished he could put in his own opinion.
He did catch Sam glancing at him, and rolled his eyes at her.  The return
grin lit up her face.

   "Consider it partial repayment, then," Gary said.  "I didn't make you
walk so you could sleep in the mud.  We'll get rooms, dry off, and have a
warm, if maybe not good, meal.  We can talk then."

   Jack nodded.  He liked every part of that plan.

   ****

   The one watchman at the gate, still dry as he huddled in a small alcove
of the timber structure, waved them through with little more than a passing
glance.  Gary wasn't fooled.  They had been observed, and declared
harmless, almost as soon as the wagon left the woods.  He'd almost driven
past when a pang of duty hit.  He reigned in the horses, looking back at
the guard who suddenly was much more attentive.

   "Ho, Guardsman.  We were hit by bandits three hours back, although in
that mud I can't give you a distance."

   "That so?" The guard left his shelter, small dark splotches randomly
appearing on his dry leather armor as he walked up to the wagon.  He held a
man length spear, perfect for use against any animal approaching the gate.
His other hand hovered near the pommel of a sword hanging from his belt, as
his eyes gave the travelers a closer look.  "Don't seem to have harmed you
much."

   "We managed to harm them, mostly through trickery, along with some
skill. My walking friend there was taking a piss, and managed to get behind
them.  You'll find five bodies.  One ran off back towards...  whatever that
last town was called."

   "Not sure they ever bothered to name it." The guard leaned his spear
against the wagon, pulled out some rumpled papers, and leaned forward to
use the wagon as a writing table.  A small nub of a pencil appeared in his
hand.  "Five dead...  they attacked nude with no possessions, I assume. 
Most bandits do, it seems, as that's how we find them.  Any identifying
marks on the remaining one?"

   "His right arm is now rather useless," Sam said, proudly.  The guard
grinned.  He grinned wider as a few coins mysteriously appeared on the
ground near his feet.

   "Good to know, boy." The now damp wad of paper vanished again into his
armor.  "There's an inn just up ahead.  Good food, unmarried barmaid."

   "Many thanks." Gary shook the reigns as the guard stepped back,
remembering to grab his spear just as the wagon moved away.  As always,
when entering a new place, Gary's eyes flicked around to take in the
important, potentially life saving, details.  There were two exits to the
village, assuming one didn't climb the earthen walls, with the straight
main road running between them.  Side streets, although alleys or paths
might be a better name, branched off, allowing access to most of the two or
three dozen structures enclosed in the town.  The buildings were wood
frame, mostly one story, with a mix of wood and mud brick walls.  Simple,
clean, and easy to repair.  Few people were out, the dinner hour having
hit, but with the rain finally ending there would probably be some activity
later.

   At the central town square, actually a circle in this case, the road
flowed around a stone well before going on to the far gate and the out to
the wider world.  Stone was actually laid down, making for a mud free
gathering area, and it looked like the villagers were in the process of
paving the rest of the town as well.  Well, whatever made them happy.  If
they had the time, good for them.

   The tavern was a large two story structure, with an attached stable.  As
he drove up, a young boy ran out.  He was maybe ten, black hair cut almost
down to nothing, and seemed very happy to finally have something to do that
probably didn't involve hard labor.  With a groan, body protesting as
muscles stretched during the fight had stiffened in the last few hours,
Gary dropped to the ground as the boy came up to him.  Samantha dropped
down much more nimbly beside him, and he heard the two strangers helping
Polly out of the back.

   "Need a room?  Horses stabled?  Good prices!"

   "Yes, yes, and they'd better be." Gary chuckled as a confused look
greeted him.  "Sorry.  We need two rooms, two beds or cots each, dinner,
and baths." A girl ran up, twin to the boy but with hair down to her waist.
He passed the request on to her, sending the girl running back inside. 
Turning, Gary saw his two daughters holding large bags, eager to get to the
room.  "Polly, did you fix something for our friends?"

   "Right here." The older teen held up rolled up clothing.  Gary nodded.

   "Good.  Wendy, take that with our thanks.  We'll see about buying you
two something that fits tomorrow, but for now this will have to do.  I
assume you two don't mind sharing a room?" He was not actually assuming
much about them.  They did not SEEM to be a couple, but given how they had
been, modesty was certainly no factor.  Wendy seemed to blush a bit.

   "Room, yes, bed, no."

   "Don't want details.  OK, ladies, Jack.  Let's get dry."

   ****

   The door to the room had barely closed when Samantha's shirt hit the
wooden floor with a wet plop.  Her denim trousers and cotton underpants
dropped around her feet a moment later, the thick rope belt making more a
thump than a plop.  With a loud sigh, the nude teen jumped face down onto
the bed.

   "Hey!  You're getting it wet!  Get off!"

   Sam ignored her sister for a moment.  The thick blanket fest so dry, so
warm...  so not the pouring rain...

   "It's your fault you're wet!  You could have worn a cloak!  God!" A hand
gripped her thin arm.  It pulled.  Knowing Polly's strength, especially
when it came to putting Sam in her place, she gave up and let herself be
dragged off the bed.  Polly stood before her, still dressed in her mostly
dry frock, face disgusted.  "You're sleeping on that side."

   "I know." Sam just stood there, nude body unashamed.  She wasn't her
sister.  Polly was all breasts, and curves.  It was more than the
difference of three years.  Sam sometimes wondered if her preferences had
kept her body from developing, if her desire to be like Dad had kept her
breasts small, her hips mostly straight.  If she "blossomed" like Polly had
done...  yuck.

   "It's so nice you two get along now." A few larger wet plopping sounds
drew both girl's heads around to see their father step out of the last of
his clothing.  Cloth duffle bag open on the second bed, he casually toweled
himself off then drew out a dry pair of denim pants.  Sam took in the most
important man in the world.  Tall.  Strong.  Heroic.  Her father was
everything she ever wanted to be.  Pulling a white shirt over his head, her
father cocked his head at her.  "Going to go out and meet our guests like
that, Sam?"

   "She would, too," Polly smirked.  Sam shot her a dirty look.

   "I'm not the one who couldn't keep her dress on."

   The words were barely out of her mouth before she regretted them.  Sam
practically jumped back, bare feet almost tripping on her discarded
clothing.  Polly was going to slap her.  SHOULD slap her!  Sam had no right
to...

   Her wide eyes met her sister's.  There was no anger there.  Just... 
sorrow.  Sam swallowed hard.

   "I'm sorry, Polly.  I didn't mean it..."

   "Yes you did, and you're right.  It's my fault.  My fault we're here..."

   But it WASN'T her fault!  WASN'T!  With another leap, Sam threw her nude
body at Polly, thin arms wrapping tight around her.  Her head buried itself
in her sister's breasts, tears coming.  She tried to speak, to tell her,
but Sam was sobbing, her mouth full of cloth dress.  The facade she'd kept
up since the attack that afternoon, since they'd fled the city...  since
Dad had...

   A large, rough, warm, comforting hand pressed against Samantha's bare
back.  It stroked her soft skin for a moment, then ran up onto her head and
through her hair as if she was a pet.  She felt more than saw their father
doing the same with Polly, bringing the two of them against his strong
body. He was her rock.  THEIR rock.  Her father sighed.

   "If anyone is to blame, it's me.  I..."

   "You did what you thought was right."

   Sam pulled back, looking up at Polly.  Her eyes were sad.  Thinking of
the baby's father, most likely.  What he had done to Polly...  Dad was
fully justified in killing him, no matter what the law thought.  Did Polly
finally see that?  Did she finally understand Dad did what he did because
he loved her?

   From the weak smile she gave Sam, it didn't seem likely.  Suddenly
feeling tired, Sam stepped away from what was left of her family.

   "Let me get dressed.  I'm hungry."

   ****

   Jack did not so much eat the stew served to the five travelers, a thick
mixture with a pleasant amount of rabbit and deer among the potatoes and
vegetables, as inhale it.  Three bowls worth flowed into him in the time it
took Wendy to eat one.  She did go for seconds, though, as did the others.
Even small Sam was stuffing it in.  As Jack leaned back in the solid wooden
chair, legs outstretched under the long table, he found his eyes slipping
off the other, more mature girls and going back to her.  She was...  well,
nice to look at.

   "Need another ale, do you gentlemen?"

   Jack looked up at the serving wench next to him.  She did not have
nearly the bust of Wendy, but much more of it was on display at the moment
thanks to Wendy's new shirt (which was, though, very tight on the girl). 
Her smile was also much friendlier, and seemed to suggest other things. 
This aspect grew as her gaze turned to Gary.  She seemed to lean forward a
bit more than necessary to take his mug.  The man just gave her a friendly
grin.

   "One more round for us men here, if you don't mind, and more cider for
the ladies.  We'd then like some privacy."

   "If you'd like some privacy with me later, my room is down the hall from
yours at the end." The glares of the girls didn't seem to register as she
walked off, hips swinging.  Gary just shook his head, laughing.

   "Not tonight, I think."

   "Oh," Polly told him, voice sounding dangerous, "don't stop on our
account."

   "I normally wouldn't, oh daughter of mine.  It would be rude to our
guests, though, even apart from my not being in the mood."

   "Don't let me stop you." Wendy's voice was definitely embarrassed.  Jack
ignored her.  It was time he decided what came next, and most likely it
wouldn't involve her.  He wanted to get away from anything to do with
magic. A few minutes later fresh drinks were placed on their corner table,
the barmaid a little less friendly.  The rest of the tavern was quiet, the
locals having gotten their drinking out of the way early during the storm.
Only a few tables were occupied, although things might pick up as the night
went on.  After taking a sip, determining this mug wasn't all that better
than the previous one for all the buzz it was starting to give him, he put
it down and leaned forward.  Gary caught his eye, nodding.

   "I agree.  It's time we talked."

   That got all the girl's attention.  Wendy leaned forward as well,
looking across the table at Gary.  He smiled at her.

   "First, again, thank you for today.  It's not often beautiful women come
running to my rescue." Jack saw Sam about to interrupt and correct her
father, but she stopped at the slight shake of Jack's head.  The man was
flattering Wendy for a reason, and far be it from Jack to have it
interrupted.  Wendy, though, was caught speechless, her dark face gaining a
reddish hue.  Still smiling, Gary looked at Jack.  "And thank you as well.
We owe you, if not our lives, at the very least our uninjured state."

   Jack nodded.  The man probably could have held his own.  His daughters,
though...

   "Those clothes, naturally, are yours.  Tomorrow morning, as soon as the
markets open, I'll supply both of you for whatever you wish to do next.  We
are not THAT well off, but it's the least we can do."

   "Dad," Polly interrupted, "Wendy said she knew herbs, and would help me
find what I need in the market." Gary nodded.

   "We'll have time for that, too.  There's no place we have to be any
hurry to get to."

   "Can't they come with us?" Sam put a hand on her father's arm.  Her eyes
flicked over to Jack, returning quickly to Gary.  Jack had no idea how to
interpret that.  Gary looked at Wendy.

   "Where are you two headed?"

   Jack turned to Wendy.  Her eyes didn't meet his, instead focusing on
Gary.  What was going on in that red haired skull of hers?  He wasn't sure
he trusted the witch as it was.  This wasn't helping.

   "We...  well, I have no real plans.  Survive, get my bearings." She
shrugged.  "Find work."

   Well, Jack could agree with that.  He looked at the others and nodded.
Sam's eyes seemed to glow with excitement.

   "See, Dad?  Five would be better than three anyway, right?  We wouldn't
have to leave Polly alone while we hunted.  Jack could hunt WITH us!"

   The quick glance the man gave his daughter seemed full of amusement
and...  sorrow?  Resignation?  Polly reached a hand out and placed it on
Sam's arm, as if to reign her in from some unwise act.  With a chuckling
sigh, Gary looked across the table at Jack and Wendy.

   "Well, we're just continuing along the main road for now.  If you decide
to travel that way, you're more than welcome to accompany us for as long as
you need to, or at least until you've annoyed me."

   "You haven't sent us away, yet," Sam interrupted.  Her father reached up
and patted her head.

   "And keep that in mind."

   ****

   Wendy watched as Jack arranged the blankets on the wooden floor.  She
sat on the bed, still clothed in the man's spare pants and shirt, legs
crossed.  It was a small bed, fit for two people only if they were a
couple, or siblings used to cuddling for warmth and comfort.  That Jack had
immediately indicated he would sleep on the floor...  well, she wasn't sure
how to take that.  She wasn't interested in sex with him- Goddess, no!  She
was still intact, and wasn't going to change that for some stranger.  An
image of Gary flashed before her.  Now, if she was rooming with HIM...

   She shook her head.  No.  Not now.  She wasn't that type.  Wasn't like
that barmaid whore.  Not that she was some kind of prude.  You can't do
magic, with its use of males and females, and have restraints of any kind
when it came to the human body.  But, there was a time and a place, and now
wasn't it.

   Her mind went back to that morning.  Her Mistress had captured, or
bought, Jack for a reason.  Had him tied up on that table, had...  done
things to him?  What?  And that spell Wendy had seen in her mind when she
touched him.  She was now sure she had NEVER seen that spell before.  It
was much too powerful, requiring human male magic and not the small animals
she had been forced to practice on.  Even now, not even a day later, the
gestures she had used were gone from her mind.

   "Jack."

   He looked up at her.  He was so...  well, beautiful, more than handsome.
Not innocent, although to look at him one would never suspect the savagery
that slit two throats mere hours before.  His white skin almost glowed. 
Day, to her night.

   "Jack.  I...  I need to know something.  Need to know if the witch did
something to you.  May I...  examine you?  Please?"

   His blue eyes regarded her with suspicion.

   "Please, Jack.  We need, you need, to know now.  I won't hurt you."

   Slowly, he rose.  She smiled uncertainly.

   "I need you naked, as you were when I found you." She pushed herself
back on the bed.  "Sit in front of me." Trust nowhere to be seen in his
face, in a few moments he was climbing onto the bed.  His maleness was
soft, almost blending in with the light patch of blond hair surrounding it.
He arranged himself before her, legs crossed, hands on his knees.  Wendy
smiled nervously.

   "I have to touch you."

   She reached out her right hand.  His eyes stayed on hers.  Wendy's hand
paused an inch from his cock.  She had never done this with a boy.  There
were...  well, there were rumors of what it meant.  But, she had touched
his already hard member that morning.  This would be no different.

   Her forefinger touched the head and traced the rune.

   "Rosnac."

   Jack's entire body stiffened.  His maleness almost seemed to explode,
becoming a thick pole instantly.  It was longer than her hand, the
mushroomed end almost seeming to pulse red.  One of her dark brown hands
went to the two sacks hanging under it, the other lightly grabbed the
shaft. Now.  Now, she would know...

   Her mind exploded with blueness.  The magic overwhelmed her, a waterfall
of male power and energy flowing over and around her.  Wendy pushed back,
her mind trying to find purchase.  Words and symbols flowed by her.  With
great effort, she forced one set to stop.  Sweating, she moved the signs in
front of her eyes.

   A spell.

   There, floating before her mind, glowing in the blue of male magic, was
a spell.

   In her surprise, her concentration waned, the words and signs moving
past her.  Another set took their place.  Then another.

   A spell book.

   Jack was...  a spell book.

   "Oh, Goddess, Mistress of all who follow the path..." The witch Quinnia
had poured all her knowledge into this boy.  Had emptied all her tomes of
magic into him.  He was a power AND spell source!

   Wendy let the spells flow past her, untrained mind trying to comprehend
what this was.  There were spells to kill, spells to heal, spells to
travel, spells to bind.  They all had dangers, consequences, but...  the
power!  The power she now had before her!  What she could do with this!

   The final spell in the sequence appeared before her eyes.  In a whisper,
she spoke the description.

   "This will bind the book to a user.  Forever will they be bound,
unusable by any other till death."

   She could make the magic hers.  Could...  own all this.  Keep it away
from Quinnia, from any other witch or warlock.  It would be HERS!

   Wendy didn't even think.  She raised her left hand, drawing three runes
in the air.  Her right squeezed Jack's cock.

   "Powiazac."

   White semen shot up, filled with millions of glowing light blue sperm.
It split into two streams, twisting around and around each other like a
braid.  Wendy's eyes were wide with awe as she jerked her hands away. 
Never had she seen so much!  As it reached the height of their heads, the
streams split, one heading for her, the other wrapping itself around Jack.
The last drop exited his body, the two glowing ropes now free to work their
magic.  The strand around Jack split again, half going down to wrap tightly
around his still hard cock with the rest spinning around his head.  They
seemed to spin...  INSIDE him, vanishing.  The remaining strand, after
circling Wendy's head, almost caressing it with its burning heat, shot
towards her right palm.  It hit with the force of a knife.  She almost
screamed, but resisted.  The pain...

   The pain vanished in the same instant Jack regained his mind.  In a
flash, he was off the bed, eyes wide with fear.  Backing away from her, his
bare back pressed against the rough wooden wall.

   Wendy's eyes ignored him.  On her right palm, a small blue tattoo now
marked her.

   She owned him.

   ****

   Chapter 3

   Sam woke early, as was her habit.  Her entire body usually turned off
the moment her head hit the pillow, and turned on again just before the sun
began to peek over the horizon.  This occasionally was a problem, her
family having learned long ago not to put her anywhere near a pillow until
absolutely necessary.  The getting up part never caused a problem... 
unless you counted her sister's anger at having it compared to her lateness
in waking.

   Maybe all that extra beauty sleep was what had made Polly, well... 
Polly.

   Sam, as she always did of late, began her day taking in her surroundings
from the bed.  They were in the room at the inn, thick wooden beams in the
darkness overhead.  Polly was next to her, curled on her side.  They almost
never crossed over into the other sister's territory when sleeping
together, the waking truce extending into their nocturnal state.  Another
bed sat not that far away, snoring coming from the large lump.

   Snoring.  That was another thing Sam wished she could do.  Dad snored,
she didn't.  It wasn't fair.  Eyes on the other bed, Samantha slowly
stretched her limbs, getting ready.  That he was snoring was a good sign.
Maybe, today, she could...

   With no interruption in the sound, two eyes opened in the darkness
across from her.  Sam grinned.  She might wake early, but Dad was the
lightest sleeper in the world.  The eyes closed again, her father seeming
to snuggle even more under the blankets now that the source of whatever had
woken him was identified.  With no further need of stealth, the covers came
off and her nude body slipped out of the bed onto the cold floor.  It was
time to start the day.

   ****

   The cloths hanging near the common room fireplace were not quite dry,
but neither were they soaking wet.  If today was rain free, just hanging
them inside the wagon would probably finish the job as they continued
onward.  Which was good.  Sam did not have that many good outfits, which in
her case meant simple and unripped.  She may not be into finery, but she
did like her clothing clean.

   At the start of the day, at least.

   Seeing no one about, Sam ambled through the dim firelight towards the
tavern's front door.  She had on a simple pull over shirt, white with only
one or two faded stains, with a pair of old tough pants.  Her sandals were
still damp, so she had forgone any footwear.  Her feet were so tough she
wasn't even thinking about splinters from the wooden floor.  She could see,
though the windows, just the hint of light.  Dawn was breaking.

   Stepping through the doorway, she was met with the rattling of wooden
wheels over the stone plaza.  Two horses pulled an empty cargo wagon past
the central well, its burly driver nodding to her as he passed.  She smiled
in return, eyes taking in the small village.  The sounds of morning life,
familiar the world over, came to her.  The blacksmith was already at work,
trying to beat the day's heat.  At the far end of the town, a group of men
trudged through the wooden gate towards the fields.  She could hear women,
gossiping, as they began their day.  She may have grown up in, been raised
in the city, but...  this, this spoke to her.  She would never be a farmer,
no, nor a farmer's wife.  But, the life of a small town, or traveling from
town to town...  it was wrong to be glad of her father's, and sister's,
misfortune, but through it she had discovered her true calling.

   Movement caught the corner of her eye.  Turning, Sam saw Jack sitting on
a wooden bench.  She had also discovered him.

   "Morning."

   Sam hoped that came out OK.  She felt so...  nervous around him.  She
had no idea why.  The look he returned was serious.  The smile of yesterday
nowhere to be seen.  He nodded, then looked back at his feet.  Jack was
holding a thin stick, making marks in the dirt.  The paving did not quite
reach the building, leaving a few feet of ground.  Looking around, to see
if anyone was watching, although why would that matter she couldn't have
said, she sat down next to him.  Jack was wearing the clothing they had
given him last night, cloth trousers a bit too big and an un-mended blue
shirt.  His blond hair was a mess, showing he had gone to bed with it wet.
Maybe she should get a comb from Polly...

   "You sleep OK?"

   He shrugged.  Looking around, she found another stick.  Rather than bend
over, she extended a leg, using her toes to grab the slender item and bring
it back towards her.  Lifting the foot up, she snagged the stick.  Jack's
eyes were on her, that smile almost peaking through whatever was bothering
him.  Feeling a blush coming, she began to draw.

   "Dad will be up in a little bit.  We'll get you some clothing that fits,
then go on.  Can't see us staying here too long.  Especially after those
bandits.  Dad doesn't like sticking around after things like that."

   He nodded.

   Sam glanced down at Jack's feet.  They were bare, like hers.  Shoes of
some kind would also have to be on the shopping list.  He was drawing... 
there were letters.  Her eyes shot up to his face, then back down.  She
wasn't a GOOD reader.  Mom had taught Polly, but had been gone before
Samantha was of age.  Money for tutors had been better used elsewhere. 
Polly had done her best to teach Sam, but...  well, other things had
interested her more.

   She now had all the incentive in the world to resume those lessons.

   'No' was the first word.  She knew that one.  There was a wide space,
then...  it looked like a letter W.  Or was that an upside down M?  Wait,
was a W an upside down M?  That was right, wasn't it?  As she watched, Jack
circled it a few times.  He seemed to be struggling.  Almost as if...  was
he having trouble writing this?  Maybe he wasn't much better at writing
than she was.

   His blue eyes turned to the sky above them.  She followed his gaze.  The
stars were gone, the sky a dark blue slowly lightening.  The stick, she
saw, was still moving, even as his mind seemed to be elsewhere.  It was
making...  well, not straight lines.  You don't get those when you're not
watching what you're doing.  There was a wavy cross, a couple random
curves, then another cross...  Wait.  Those were...  the letter T?  The T
was like a cross, yes?  And those other things...  That was an R, the wavy
thing was an S...

   'Trust'.

   'No Trust W'.

   The door beside her began to open.  The dirt writing vanished as Jack's
stick began a flurry of movement, random swirls and scrapes.

   ****

   Wendy stepped into the morning air.  It was...  strange.  She had spent
the last year (or had it been two?) underground in her Mistress's caves. 
They had been nice caves, to be sure, dry, warm, and not THAT dirty once
she had been forced to scrub them on hands and knees.  She had...  liked
it. Felt protected.  The outside world could be forgotten, all her being
focused on the years of training to come.

   Now she was in that outside world.

   Exposed.

   "Good morning, Wendy."

   The tomboy was sitting on a bench next to Jack.  They had sticks in
their hands, the dirt between their bare feet full of random scratches. 
She was glad to see Jack here.  There had been a moments fear when she had
woken that he had escaped, that the spell only bound his magic and not his
body.  But, no, it seemed that, by whatever bond had been created, she had
not lost her new found book.  Wendy smiled at the two.

   "Good morning.  Have a good night's sleep?"

   Jack's eyes flicked to her, hatred shining out through the morning air,
then looked away.  She'd have to teach him to like her.  Like a dog could
be made to respect his master.  She was a good person, after all.

   "I sleep like a log.  Or a rock." Samantha seemed proud of that fact. 
Wendy just shook her head at the girl.

   "That's good." Her eyes took in the town.  It was small, dirty. 
Peasants.  That her parents were of such stock made it worse.  There was a
reason she had wanted magic, and it wasn't so she could be someplace like
this.  Even a cave was better.  "So, we're leaving this morning?"

   "After food and shopping."

   Well, Wendy couldn't object to either of those.

   ****

   The three teens watched for the next half hour as wagons and carts began
to slowly enter the plaza.  Whether the rain had by common consent delayed
things, or this village had decided to be different, it appeared the
mid-week market was setting up a day later than elsewhere in the world. 
This worked out well for the travelers, naturally.  As stalls began to
form, they retreated inside to join their now woken companions.  The owner
of the tavern, a large woman with disturbing similarities to Wendy's own
mother, served a breakfast of leftover stew and fresh bread.  Wendy ate
hungrily.  Last night had drained her, much more so than she would have
thought.  Jake ate well, too.  That was good.  He was much too skinny.

   Samantha made a quick run out to the stable, reporting the horses were
fed, watered, and ready to go.  Gary put a hand out to ruffle her hair.

   "Good.  I want to get out of here soon, so we have to shop quickly." His
eyes focused on Polly.  "And I mean, quickly."

   She let out a sigh, which to Wendy sounded a bit spoiled.  To the girl's
surprise, Polly stepped over and took her hand.

   "Come on, we have to do this quick." She began pulling the dark skinned
redhead towards the door while looking back at her dad.  "We'll look at
herbs, then meet you at the tailor's.  I already took money from your
sack."

   They were out the door before Wendy could hear any reply.

   ****

   Wendy was dragged half way across the plaza before Polly released her
hand.  The young woman had stopped.  Taking a deep breath, she seemed to
shudder.  Wendy just watched, unsure what to make of this.  Breathing out a
long sigh, Polly looked over at her.

   "God.  You don't know what a relief it is to be away from them for a
little bit.  They've been...  well, it's not like I've been a prisoner or
anything, but they haven't let me out of their sight ever since..."

   Wendy waited, but Polly didn't go on.  Instead, the woman looked around.

   "OK, what do you think.  Should we try one of the sellers setting up
now, or go wake up whatever merchant has an actual store in this village?"

   Wendy turned her body a full rotation, taking in the options.  About a
dozen sellers could now be seen arranging their wares.  There might be more
outside the walls: they had learned the night before that the town actually
extended out along the road on the side opposite where they entered.  Those
buildings would be less permanent, designed to be abandoned at the first
sign of trouble, but that mattered not now.

   Her eyes caught sight of a woman sitting next to a two wheeled hand
cart. Various herbs, roots, and plants were displayed around her, both dry
and fresh.  Just what Polly said she needed.  The woman, though...

   There was no dress code for witches, or warlocks.  To advertise
outwardly could be a foolish thing among strangers, and magic often worked
best when done in the shadows.  To Wendy, though, the seller had the signs
of one who had practiced.  Just being one who sold such plants was one
clue, although most who did so probably were more likely to be harmless
nature worshipers.  This one, though, had cast a glance at Polly.  A glance
that seemed to...  see the faint pink glow of magic radiating from the
unborn child.

   Such a person was probably harmless.  Most likely WAS harmless. 
Still...

   "Let's see if the local merchant has what we need, first."

   Polly regarded her for a moment, face serious, then nodded.  Again to
Wendy's surprise, she took the girl's hand.

   "I saw a sign down this way."

   As they walked down the paved roadway, Wendy became very conscious of
the difference between the two women.  Their dress, naturally, was a
contrast between beauty and beast.  Polly wore a simple, elegant white
dress, falling down to her ankles.  Brown sash tied to her waist, there
were no decorations beyond a slight ruffling of the fabric at the end of
the flowing long sleeves.  The neckline was very conservative, her breasts
not needing any enhancement.  Wendy's pudgy body, by contrast, was covered
in an oversized man's shirt and pants.  She had rolled up the legs as much
as she could, a rough rope holding the pants up, although they sadly were
not THAT loose on her.  The shirt had fasteners down the front, and she had
left the bottom half undone and tied it off.  She didn't have a mirror, but
she had to look like some whore who had stolen her last man's clothing.

   It was amusing, at least, that she had not been embarrassed the day
before to come upon strangers while fully nude, but now felt self-conscious
while clothed.  Her eyes darted around.  Well, it HAD been awhile since she
had been clothed...

   The sign above the door had a carved and painted Tipton's Weed.  There
was no writing, not a surprise.  Through the one multi-pane window to the
left of the door they could see baskets and barrels, overflowing with
leaves and seeds.

   "We'll try this," Polly said.  Pulling on the rope handle, she opened
the door and led Wendy inside.

   The lighting was dim, no candles or lamps lit in the morning light.  An
older woman, maybe twice their age, sat against the wall on a stool,
needlework in her hand.  She looked up, surprised.  "So, the market not up
and running yet?  I have a girl out there with a stall down by the wall."
Polly shook her head.

   "We're leaving as soon as we can, and didn't want to wait." She looked
at Wendy.  "Well?" Wendy thought, then looked at the shopkeeper.

   "We need some garlic.  Fresh, if you have it."

   The woman nodded, standing with a mild groan and placing her needlework
on the stool.  She led them to a small basket sitting up on a table.

   "My girl brought these cloves in two days ago.  Should be fresh enough
for you." Her eyes dropped down to Polly's stomach.  A bulge could barely
be seen.  "They should be safe enough, too." Polly seemed to blush, one
hand going to cover the growing baby.  Wendy picked up a few of the cloves,
examining them.  She wasn't an expert, far from it, but did know enough to
see these should do the job.  She nodded to the woman.

   "We'll take a handful." The woman nodded, leaving them to go find a
container.  Wendy leaned a little closer to Polly.  "You still haven't
said, exactly, what is wrong.  Do you need more?" Polly seemed to hesitate.
Her left hand slowly traveled across her body to grab her right forearm. 
She bit her lip, then slowly pulled up her sleeve.

   Short red marks appeared on her otherwise flawless skin.

   Wendy paled.  Those...  those were...

   Her eyes shot up to Polly's face.  The woman's eyes were haunted.

   "Are...  are you marked?"

   Polly shook her head, slowly.

   "No more.  He...  he died."

   Wendy looked back down at the offered arm.  She had been owned.  A
source of magic, for some warlock, the blood that fed her unborn child used
to fuel spells of power.  And, once used...  the magic began to build.  A
storage vessel had to keep being used.  The longer the wait, the stronger
the spell.  But wait too long, let too much power gather...

   "Does your father know?"

   Polly let the sleeve fall back, arms wrapping around to hug herself. 
Wendy could feel the sudden chill in the air.

   "That Timothy used me, yes.  That...  I asked him to, no..."

   ****

   Villages were not cities.  You could not walk into a shop, pick out an
outfit, and leave within an hour with something that fit reasonably well.
What you COULD do, though, was buy the fabric you needed, cut roughly to
size, and have your woman folk finish the work later.  Thus, it was with
amazement Jack finished tying the leather belt on the worn pair of jeans.
They could be a touch longer, maybe, and obviously others had owned them,
but they were clean and whole.  With a grin, he spun around for Gary and
Sam.  The girl clapped, a matching grin on her face.  Turning to the
shopkeeper, he nodded to him.

   "It's one of my son's old pairs," the man said, pride in his voice
indicating the child had outgrown them, not left them behind after some
tragedy.  "I have two more just like it, if you want them.  Shirts, well, I
have one that should fit, and can give you some fabric.  You're not a bulky
lad."

   "That will do nicely," Gary said.  He looked around.  "If we had the
time, I'd give you a week's worth of orders, as my own clothing is
beginning to wear." The man nodded.

   "I know how it is.  I'll content myself with overcharging you for this."

   The two men laughed.  Jack ignored them.  He was just happy to be
dressed.

   A small warm hand took his arm.

   "Dad, we're going outside, see if we can flag down Polly and Wendy.  You
can finish up in here." "What, I have to carry this myself?"

   "Yup."

   Jack had the good manners to look back at Gary, expression one of
helplessness, as Sam dragged him out of the store.  Her father just
laughed, waving them away.  He must be used to this, to the whims of two
daughters.  With no choice in the matter, Jack found himself next to Sam
between two vegetable stalls as they entered the street.  It was getting
busier, the towns women out getting what they needed for the week.  They
were dressed, not for a stroll, but for work, plain clothing meant to be
dirty and stained by day's end.  Again, he was reminded of home.  "This
way."

   Still holding his arm, Sam led him down the street.  She walked slowly,
all sense of urgency gone.  Her shoulder, then hips, bumped against his,
then returned for a longer contact.  Jack...  liked it.

   "Are you from the city, Jack?  Or from a small place like this?  We were
in the city, for as long as I can remember." He glanced down at her.  There
was nothing masculine about the girl now.  She was a bit taller than Wendy,
head about level with his ears.  Her free hand came up and swept her short
hair back behind her own ears.  They were small, almost delicate.  He had
never noticed a person's ears before.  Reaching his free hand over, he
extended a finger and touched her bare arm.  She almost stopped, surprised,
eyes widening as he slowly spelled a word.

   "Farm?  You grew up on a farm?" Jack traced a 'Y', enjoying the excuse
to touch her.  There had been a girl, back home...  Elly?...  who he had...

   Jack stopped.

   Why couldn't he remember that name?

   Sam moved in front of him, expression worried.  Her hand slid down his
arm, grabbing his right hand.

   "What's wrong?"

   What was wrong?  He should be able to picture the girl he grew up with.
Her image should be as clear as his own...

   What did his parents look like?

   Jack didn't even notice as Sam pulled them off the street into a small
path between wooden buildings.  He remembered things.  Remembered his
father dying.  Knew that.  But, he couldn't see him.  Couldn't see his
mother.  He could hear her voice, that song she always sang as she sliced
carrots on the table...

   Had the witch done this?  Was it part of...  whatever horror she had
inflicted on him?  Or had Wendy done it, last night?  Oh, that bi...

   A pain shot through his head.

   Ah, that was right.  He couldn't think ill of the wonderful witch Wendy.
Her gift to him, along with slavery.  What a wonderful woman she was, so
generous...

   "Jack, you're scaring me.  Are you OK?"

   No.  He wasn't.  But there was nothing he could do, about Wendy or his
mind.  Not now.  If his memory was gone...  well, maybe it would come back.
Maybe it wouldn't.  It was not something he had control over, most likely.
He still knew his parents.  That, at least, was something.  Smiling weakly
at Sam, he squeezed her hand.

   "If there's anything I can do, just say it."

   OK, that was funny.  Jack cocked an eyebrow at her, smile getting
stronger.  It only took a moment for her eyes to light in understanding,
cheeks blushing.

   "Oh!  I mean..." She laughed.  "You can write it on me!" Something on
his face must have caused her to consider her words again, as Sam's blush
darkened.  Her eyes stayed on him, though.  "You can," she whispered,
stepping closer.  "Write on me anywhere you want..."

   Any answer he could have given vanished from Jack's mind as he saw Wendy
and Polly walking past on the street behind her.  He motioned with his
head, Sam distractedly turning just in time to see them vanish from view.
Releasing his hand, she almost jumped back.  Her face looked like she had
just stolen something and now had to go talk to its owner.

   "We should go," she stammered.  "Dad will want to head out now."

   Jack nodded.  Stepping close to her again, he reached out and traced two
letters on her bare arm.  'OK'.

   ****

   The sun was about a quarter way up the eastern sky as their wagon headed
through the town gate.  Gary nodded to the guard, an old man who probably
knew much, but could do little.  Beyond the earthen wall, half a dozen
wooden buildings lined the roadway before another road crossed this one. 
He considered taking one of the new options.  It would throw off any
pursuit, although if none had shown up by now he was probably safe.  Plus,
it was not like he had any destination other than 'away' in mind.  In the
end, he let the horses decide.  Loosening the reigns a bit, he gave them
the option.

   Not surprisingly, they just kept going straight.  Well, that must be
God's will.

   Sam stretched next to him on the bench, muscles popping.  If there was
one good thing about this new life, it was getting closer to her.  She was
the son he didn't realize he had.  Even if, he thought as she looked down
at Jack walking beside them, that son seemed to have an interest in men.

   "You sure you want to walk, Jack?  There's room in back."

   The expression the teen gave his daughter spoke volumes.  Wendy and
Polly were back there, bouncing around with their supplies.  Walking was
definitely a better option, at least for now.  Gary took his right hands
off the reigns and placed it on Sam's shoulder.

   "I'll trade off with him in a bit.  Actually, it'll be good to stretch
my legs every hour or so." He looked over his daughter.  "That sound good
to you, Jack?"

   Jack signaled agreement with his hand.  They'd have to come up with some
sort of hand language, if they were going to be together a while.  There
were questions that needed answering.

   That could wait, though.  He looked ahead.  The sky was clear, the road
reasonably dry.

   It was a good day.

   ****

   Chapter 4

   Wendy would never have thought not moving would be so tiring.  Or
painful.

   The wagon creaked to a stop, the tomboy's "whoa!" heard by the two women
in the wagon.  Wendy shot a hand out, bracing herself as one final jolt
rocked her back and forth.  She had never traveled by wagon before, or on
anything with wheels.  She had always thought, looking on such devices as
she trudged through mud and dirt, they were magical, comfortable
conveyances.

   No.

   For one, it was boring.  Walking, you had the changing view, the
challenge of not stepping in a hole and breaking a leg, tripping over a
rock, and other interesting hazards.  Riding...  well, they had tried,
briefly, to get some sewing done.  Fabric for a handful of outfits for her
had been bought, at a fair price, too, but it had proved to be impossible
to keep the needle still enough for the work needed.  It would have to wait
until evening, in the poor firelight.

   Her current outfit was looking more and more like a long term fashion
statement.

   "We're here!"

   The tomboy's cry came as the wagon rocked from those in front
dismounting.  Wendy looked over at Polly.  The older teen leaned back,
stretching her back muscles.  Wendy could hear the cracking.

   "That's not very lady like."

   The two swung around to see Samantha's scruffy head sticking in through
the back flap of the wagon.  Polly just gave a disgusted laugh at her
sister.

   "So, like you, then."

   "Oh, I didn't say I had a problem with it!" Her eyes swung around to
Wendy.  The witch wasn't sure what to make of this girl yet.  Her first
thought, to basically ignore her, or treat her like a kid, most likely was
not the best idea.  "Dad and I have the whole camp routine down, so you can
probably help sis.  Either that, or gather wood."

   "I'll help Polly."

   "She needs it."

   The face vanished.  The long curly haired beauty just sighed to Wendy.

   "It's so good to have...  well, a real female with us now.  And to
think, she used to actually be a girl."

   "People change." Wendy climbed out of the back of the wagon.  No one was
there to help, which miffed her a bit.  Sure, she didn't NEED help, but
Polly...  As Wendy's feet hit the ground, Jack was there to raise a hand to
help the pregnant woman.  His eyes ignored Wendy.  Oh, this was going to
change.  He was hers, and he would treat his Mistress with respect.

   Wendy blinked.

   Wait...  what was she doing?  She looked at Jack again.  He...  he
wasn't a possession.  She shook her head, trying to clear it.  Something...

   Polly's warm hand took hers.  Losing her train of thought, Wendy looked
up at the woman.

   "Come on.  The sooner we get the fire and dinner going, the more we can
work on your dress in sunlight."

   ****

   They weren't in a town.  It took her a moment to understand that.  The
wagon was now in a small clearing, a circle of pine and oak trees
surrounding them.  Behind the wagon she could see the ruts leading back,
she assumed, to the road they had been following.  It was obvious this
campground was in regular use, although maybe not THAT regular.  The other
ruts weren't that recent.

   Great.  Back to sleeping like some poor farmer.  It might be a grand
adventure to those who lived in the city, as these three had, but for her
it was just life.  Well, at least she had enjoyed one night in a bed under
warm blankets.

   Gary came around the wagon.  He looked...  well, at home.  Here,
surrounded by nature, his stance seemed different.  More confident. 
Shoulders straight, head high.  The village had seemed, somehow, unnatural
for him.  He nodded to Wendy, smile just on the line between playful and
mocking.  His eyes showed which side he intended it to fall on, her dark
cheeks warming a bit in response.

   "The trip wasn't too bumpy, I hope."

   "It was," Polly interrupted, reaching back into the wagon.  "I'm in a
delicate condition, I'll have you know."

   Gary's eyes seemed to harden for a moment.  Wendy found herself subtly
moving between the two, hand going to a posterior that, really, didn't
hurt.

   "I'm the one not used to this.  My bum hurts."

   He laughed, eyes returning to her, flicking down to examine her butt
encased in his old pants before returning to her face.  The gaze he shot
his eldest daughter now had none of its previous ire.

   "I suppose there would be outrage if I offered any suggestions on how to
ease that pain."

   "Not from me," Polly scoffed.  "Far be it for me to stand in the way of
you being slapped by our guest." A longbow, unstrung, appeared in her
hands. She tossed it towards him, followed by a leather bag and a bundle of
straight sticks.  Gary caught them easily, grinning.  "Here.  Go make some
arrows, so you can make yourself useful."

   "Thank you, my lady.  And you, too, Lady Wendy." He bowed to her,
turned, and vanished.  Wendy suddenly had a wicker basket thrust into her
hands.

   "Here.  Let's go get the fire started."

   ****

   Jack broke through the tree line and approached the fire circle with his
first load of wood.  It was mostly kindling, naturally.  He had found a
good supply, surprisingly dry in the lee of a large rock.  Larger branches
and such would most likely be wetter from the day before, at least on the
top half, but there was nothing to be done for it.  Fire would dry them
out. As he walked, he did a quick scan of the others.  Sam was watering and
tending the horses, having unharnessed the two and led them away a bit. 
Why his eye had first gone to her, he couldn't have said.  The darker of
the two brown beasts butted his head into her chest, drawing a laugh that
was like music.  Jack wondered if she could sing...

   Gary sat on a log, fletching some arrows.  Jack spent an extra moment
watching those long hands wrapping the twine, or whatever he was using,
around the feathers on the end of the shaft.  There was a twinge in his
fingers.  Had Jack done that before?  He tried to think.  He...  had no
memory of making arrows, but he now knew that meant nothing.  He might have
to try his hand at it at some point, see if his hands remembered things his
mind had forgotten.

   Approaching the fire, he saw Polly already had a small flame going with
some tinder they had brought in the wagon.  Wendy just sat there, looking
useless.  He saw a small flint and steel set on ground near Polly's hand.
What, Wendy hadn't called him over so she could use him to conjure a flame?
Hadn't used him like...

   The stab of pain in his head forced an inaudible grunt from him. 
Disgusted at himself, at the whole situation, he dropped the wood a foot
from Wendy.  She almost jumped, giving him some satisfaction.  Turning,
feeling both girl's eyes on him, he went back for more.

   ****

   "I've been making meals for those two for almost as long as I can
remember."

   Polly looked over at Wendy, knife in her hand deftly peeling a carrot as
she regarded the dark skinned girl.  Wendy's hands seemed as familiar
around a knife, snipping the ends off of long curly green beans before
cutting them in pieces.  Seeing her nod for Polly to go on, she looked back
down at her own handiwork.

   "Mom...  well, she worked.  Did washing, watched children, whatever
other families were willing to pay for.  Dad, as a soldier, didn't bring in
much.  Not as much as Mom thought we needed.  She, well, wanted us to have
it all.  And was willing to do what it took.  My first memories are of of
being in the kitchen, helping her make the evening meal so she could have
more time to get some sewing in.  When...  well, when we lost her, I was
able to step in everywhere except Dad's bed, and he had no problem finding
others for that job."

   There was a bit of hurt in her voice.  That girlish fantasy, of becoming
her mother in all ways, was still there.  She wasn't proud of it, nor the
hurt every time her father was with another woman.  After all, the very
idea of sharing your father's bed was so wrong...

   "My mother sort of, well, forced me to help." Wendy's voice definitely
held some resentment.  She didn't meet Polly's gaze.  "She was a lazy
woman. Big, slovenly.  As soon as I could use a knife she had me taking
over, making food for them and my brothers.  Dad didn't care, as frankly my
cooking was actually edible.  I slaved over the stove, while she...  was
elsewhere." Picking up the next bean, Wendy proceeded to snap the end off
instead of using the knife.  The sound was like a small bone breaking. 
Polly paused, putting the knife and carrot in her lap.

   "Did you..."

   "I just didn't come home one day.n"

   Polly nodded.  Picking up the carrot again, she began cutting it into
the pot.

   ****

   Gary looked up from his plate, smiling.  Wendy was regarding him warily,
food as yet untouched.  His smile turned into a grin.

   "It's very good.  Especially the beans."

   Wendy looked down into her food, smiling as she began to eat.  He caught
Polly looking first at her, then over the fire at him.  Gary shrugged.

   "Hey, it is good.  I'm not going to lie to the girl about something as
important as my evening meal."

   "Yeah, it is good," Sam added, mouth full.  She chewed for a moment,
then swallowed.  "Needs meat, though."

   "That's not my problem," Polly said.  Gary grinned.

   "Too true." He looked past them into the darkening woods.  "I don't
think there's much game to be found around here, but I set a couple small
snares.  We may have rabbit for tomorrow's breakfast, with enough left for
dinner.  In a day or two we'll set up camp and I'll go hunting."

   "Can I come with you?" Sam spoke again with her mouth full.

   "We still don't have a bow for you.  We'll see." Hoping that settled
that for now, he dug back into the stew.  It did need meat...

   ****

   "The soldier came knocking upon the queen's doorHe said, "I am not
fighting for you any more."The queen knew she'd seen his face someplace
beforeAnd slowly she let him inside"

   The voice coming from Sam was soft, yet strong.  Jack leaned forward,
entranced.  The song was an old one, known at least to him if not Wendy. 
He knew he had heard it around evening fires like this, from traveling
bards.  Maybe it was even one of his mother's songs from childhood.  Who
could say.  From then on, though, the song in his mind would belong to Sam.
Her voice held the melody perfectly, needing no music, her body seeming to
rock and sway as if lost in the song.  Again, and again, he found his eyes
drawn to her lips.  They seemed to glisten in the firelight.

   He would walk along side the wagon forever, if this awaited him each
night.

   ****

   Jack moved slowly among the trees.  He needn't travel too far, most
likely, before stopping to do his nightly duty.  They would be gone in the
morning, so it mattered not which tree or bush he watered.  So long as he
had some privacy, all was good.

   And, it was good to be alone for a bit.  He wasn't a solitary person...
at least, he didn't think so.  Maybe he was.  Which ever, for all he
(mostly) enjoyed the company of the others, this was nice too.  Just him,
the night, the tree before him...

   "Jack."

   Wendy's voice came from behind.  He debated, hands in the act of
unbuttoning his fly and releasing his member.  She spoke his name again, a
harder edge showing itself in her voice.  Releasing the fastener, he
turned.

   She was still in that tied off, oversized shirt and large man's pants.
Sam looked good in trousers.  Wendy, not so much.  The distant fire seemed
to highlight her red hair from behind, putting much of the rest of her in
shadow, expression hidden.  He waited.

   "Jack...  come here."

   He considered the matter.  What she had done last night was unthinkable.
He was not sure, exactly, WHAT it had been, but it seemed as close to rape
as he could imagine.  A woman who is unconscious as she is defiled is no
less defiled.  Jack wanted nothing to do with this creature.  Figuring
inaction was safe, he stood his ground.

   "Come.  Here."

   Jack's mind exploded in pain.  It was like needles, jabbing from every
side.  He winced, raising a foot to stagger forward.

   The pain stopped.

   Stunned, he froze, foot still in the air.  The pain returned.  His foot
fell to the ground in the direction of Wendy...  and the pain vanished
again.

   Oh.  Fuck.

   With gritted teeth, pain gone but the memory still burning through his
nerves, Jack slowly walked towards her.  He tried not to think.  Thinking
the thoughts he knew wanted to race through his mind would bring back the
pain.  Slowly the details of her face formed out of the darkness.

   Wendy looked horrified.

   "Stop!  Stop!  Oh, Goddess, what's wrong?" Her eyes were wide.  As if
this wasn't her doing.  He stopped a few feet before her, eyes burning into
the girl.  She knew.  The witch had to know.  One of her brown hands
reached out.  Jack automatically flinched away, Wendy's hand jerking back
in reply.  Recognition seemed to come to her.

   "Oh, Jack...  I'm sorry.  I didn't mean for it to do this.  I didn't
know.  I've never..." She bit her lip.  "I mean, it was for your own good.
I had to do it.  To save you."

   His eyes widened.  To save him.  He had to be a slave to be saved.  To
think he actually heard those words pass through a human's lips.  Wendy's
expression turned from worry to anger.

   "Yes, damn it.  Believe me or not, but it's for your own good.  And,
what's done is done.  It will be easier on you if you just do what I say.
Neither of us can change this, so you have to just..." Her eyes softened.
"Just understand.  Please.  Do what I say, so you're not in pain." She let
out a sigh.  Jack stayed motionless, not willing to make a comment one way
or another.  "I was going to cast a small spell.  I don't know how often
I'll have to do it to keep you safe.  But..." Her head turned back towards
the fire.  Gary still sat there, sharpening a knife in the firelight. 
"It's not one I need, or really should cast.  Even using you, there's often
a price for me in all this." She turned back to Jack.  "I'm going to bed.
I'll see you in the morning."

   Wendy turned away, walking back through the trees towards camp.  Jack
stayed where he was.

   She didn't know.  Or claimed she didn't know.  Did he believe her? 
Wendy had said she was an apprentice.  A novice.  Had only a year or two's
training in an art that needed a lifetime to master.  So...  it was
possible.  Maybe she was in over her head.  Maybe it had been an accident.

   Did that matter?

   As she had said...  no, it didn't.  It was done.

   And he would have it undone.

   "I heard."

   Jack turned to Sam.  She was coming out of the darkness, footsteps
almost as silent as an elf's.  Her right hand held a knife.  As she reached
him, she sheathed it, hand going up to touch his cheek.

   "Oh, Jack, I'm sorry.  You tried to tell me.  'No Trust W'.  I didn't
make the connection."

   Sam's fingers were like fire against his skin.  He stood still,
trembling.  This was magic of another sort, one he was as unfamiliar with.
Expression hardening, Sam looked back at Wendy, now back at the fire.

   "Don't worry.  I'll protect you.  She may be right.  If the witch that
had you captive did something, it may be...  but that's no excuse." She
looked back at him.  Her eyes whirled, outshining the starlight.  "Maybe
I'll talk to Polly.  See if she..."

   Jack shook his head.  That wasn't a good idea.  Sam looked at him,
puzzled.

   "No?"

   Taking her hand, he began writing on the palm.  Sam looked back towards
the fire.

   "Ah.  Right." Polly and Wendy were talking, laughing.  She sighed, gaze
returning to him.  "I just thought, after all she went through, she'd know
something to help us through this.  That warlock boyfriend of hers..." Her
head shot back around towards her sister.  "She said..." Sam's hand
squeezed his.  "Damn it.  If Polly makes the same mistake twice, I don't
know what Dad's going to do."

   Jack had no idea what she was talking about.  They definitely needed
time to talk.  Alone.  Reaching his free hand out, he cupped her chin and
turned her face back towards him.  Her eyes locked with his.

   "Jack..."

   He didn't hear the words.  All he saw were her lips.  Soft.  Red. 
Glistening in the night.  Her eyes widened.  She stepped closer, raising
herself up on her toes as he leaned down.

   They kissed.

   ****

   Gary pretended not to notice as Jack and Sam came back to the fire. 
They were approaching from different parts of the forest, but, strangely,
not the same direction they had gone off in.

   After a brief struggle, amusement won out over worry.

   ****

   Wendy lay on the wagon floor, wide awake.

   She had slept on rock.  Had slept on skins.  Had slept on grass and
ground.  Wood, though, was just damned uncomfortable.  The other two in the
wagon had it a bit better.  Two boards were set up on either side of the
wagon, creating beds over bags and barrels of supplies.  Sam had offered
hers to Wendy, with its thin mattress padding, but she had declined. 
Something in Sam's voice had been a challenge, asking if Wendy was weak
enough to need the extra comfort.

   The answer, naturally, turned out to be "yes".

   She still didn't know what she was doing here.  Two days ago, her life
was planned.  She had a mistress, a profession, a calling.  Now...  she was
adrift, in a strange land.  Over her head...

   Also, she was in need of a good long piss.

   With a groan, she sat up, blanket falling off her.  It was a warm night,
luckily.  Summer was coming, although not quite there yet.  They would not
need warm quilts for some time.  The idea that she would still be living in
a wagon when the snow flew made Wendy shudder.  Shaking off the thought,
she crawled forward towards the exit.  On either side, Polly and Sam
remained still.  Trying to stay quiet, but not caring all that much, she
climbed out and let herself drop to the ground.

   That the fire was still going surprised her.  What surprised her more
was seeing Gary still sitting there.  He and Jack had set up beds under the
wagon.  Had the man not slept at all?

   Her bladder once again made its need known.  She had been so upset after
talking to Jack she had forgotten the business she had gone into the woods
for, and her body would not be denied its needed release.  Moving quietly,
trying not to disturb Gary, she entered the woods.  Wendy just wore his
shirt, untied, falling down just below where an undergarment would be.  The
idea of him seeing her like this...  well, actually, it was a fun idea. 
Laughing to herself, she found a good spot and squatted.  A warm stream
came out.

   Relief.

   ****

   Wendy approached the wagon again.  She could just make out the dark form
of Jack under it.  He'd come to understand.  He was a tool.  A tool that
would break unless used, and...  well, if someone had to use him, it might
as well be her.  She'd have to be careful, though.  Treat him well.  Not...
force the issue.  Maybe let it build up?  Let him finally come to her for
relief?  That could work.  Unless there was no indication that the vessel
would notice, no sign of a problem until it was too late.  Damn it, she was
half a decade too young to be working with human energy!

   Gary was still by the fire.  Wendy paused before the wagon.  She had
thought, earlier, to cast a small spell.  Something to...  well, she didn't
know.  That was the problem.  Magic wasn't the only thing she was
inexperienced in.  Not knowing what she was doing, or why, she slowly
walked towards the fire.

   "Can't sleep?"

   His voice was concerned.  She blushed, or thought she did.  It could
have just been the heat from the fire.

   "Not used to hard wood.  Stone, yes, but not wood."

   The look he gave her indicated she was missing something.  Not a
surprise.  With a laugh, he indicated one of the log seats.

   "If your delicate bum doesn't mind wood seats, please take one.  I
wouldn't mind some company."

   She sat, realizing at once that her shirt now covered nothing.  Her full
thigh was exposed to him.  If she wasn't in fact sitting on the shirt,
keeping her delicate bum off of the log itself, she possibly could have
rearranged things for some modesty.  As it was, she kept her legs closed
and trusted that would be enough.

   They sat in silence.  Gary poked at the fire with a long stick, moving
the glowing logs.  Clouds of sparks floated up into the night sky, dancing
like faeries.  Wendy had seen faeries, once.  Maybe, now that she was in
the world, she'd see them again.  She thought to ask why he was up, but it
didn't seem important.  He was a man, and...  well, standing watch like
this while they slept seemed like a man thing to do.

   "Did Polly tell you much about me?"

   His question startled her.  She shook her head 'no'.  She had not asked
his daughter about him, and Polly had not volunteered much, beyond the
normal complaints about one's parents.  There had been an unspoken
agreement between the two women that they were likely to be overheard by
others while riding in the wagon.  Thus, conversation had been kept to
unimportant things.  There would be time, later, for meaningful exchanges.

   Gary was silent again.  He pushed the largest log, a glowing red and
black clump.  It fell off a smaller log with a thump, clouds of sparks
thrown into the air.  Wendy looked at the display in wonder...  until a jab
of burning pain came from her left leg.

   "Ah!"

   She jumped to her feet, brushing at the now vanished ember.  Gary was
suddenly beside her, hands on her shoulders.

   "You OK?"

   She looked up.

   His strong body loomed over her.  His face, stubble showing on his chin,
looked down with concern.  His eyes...  those eyes.  Her hands found
themselves on his arms, as if for support, but all she noticed was hard
muscles.  With only the slightest movement, her breasts pressed against his
chest.  There was a pause, their eyes still locked.  Gary's hands dropped
down her sided, causing Wendy to shudder.  They came to rest on her hips,
only to move on to the ass.  Her breath caught as she was caressed for the
first time.

   "I do not play childish games," he whispered.  Body making up her mind
for her, Wendy pressed against him even more.

   "Then let us be man and woman."

   ****

   He laid her down on the grass near the horses, away from the fire.  Her
shirt had vanished somewhere between the fire and there, her ample body
offered to him.  Gary stood, taking her in.  It...  she felt like a work of
art, on display for him.  Wendy caressed herself, hands rubbing over her
curves, holding her breasts.  Gary began to undress.

   Before that night, Jack was the only male Wendy had seen.  Jack was a
teen.  Well formed, to be true, but not yet grown.  Gary...  Gary was a
man. His body was lean muscle, his cock long, thick.  This...  this wasn't
magic.  Wendy would not be in control.  None of the tricks she had learned
were of use.

   This was sex.  Glorious, wondrous, sex.

   Gary covered her body with his own, hands grabbing and squeezing, mouth
seeming to devour her.  Her own hands roamed his body freely, legs
spreading more than willingly.  Hs hardness press against her.  She wanted
it.  To feel it, in her where it belonged.  She wanted to be a woman.  HIS
woman.  That he was a stranger didn't matter.  She was free.  Free from her
apprenticeship, free from family.  Free to do as she desired.

   She desired him.

   With a sudden shift of his body, Gary's hands roughly grabbed her hips.
She felt him at the entrance to her sex.  With one thrust, he entered.

   Her cry was wordless.  She was virgin, but had been penetrated before.
Pleasuring one's self was encouraged among witches, as it was accepted that
mates would be hard to find.  One could not use those like Jack for such
purposes.  Gary, though, filled her like no fingers ever had.  When she did
not protest, he thrust roughly, slamming into her.  She wrapped her legs
around him, writhing under his body.  She could feel her pleasure building.

   This.  This was what it meant to be alive.  To be human, mortal...

   Wendy felt him shudder.  Felt his release.

   She screamed in pleasure.

   ****

   Polly lay in the darkness of the wagon.  The canvas top above did
nothing to keep out the last echo of Wendy's scream.  Did nothing to stop
the tears.  Her father...  once again, her father had found pleasure with
someone other than their mother.  Other than her...

   "You OK, Polly?"

   Samantha's whisper, barely heard in the darkness, brought her back.  She
turned her head, looking at the lump across from her.  She swallowed,
throat suddenly dry.

   "Yeah.  Go back to sleep."

   Sleep was a long time coming for both.

   ****

   Chapter 5

   Jack rolled out from under the wagon.

   This, he immediately realized, had been a bad idea.  His clothing, still
the outfit bought by Gary the morning before, was now soaked with the
morning dew.  He stood, shivering a bit in the cool air.  The morning light
was just on the horizon, the last of the stars fading from view.  Well, he
was awake at least, with no need of washing.  Shaking his head at his
folly, he wiped his bare arms with his hand, removing the water.  The now
damp fingers went to his head, brushing his blond hair into a shape that,
at least, felt somewhat neat.  He couldn't actually see, so in a way his
hair looked however he thought it looked.  That's how reality worked, after
all.

   Jack looked around the camp.  He as the first up.  Gary was still
asleep, having bedded down under the wagon with Jack at some point in the
night.  All three girls were still in the wagon.

   He didn't know what to make of them.  Of any of them.  Jack was not a
complicated person.  He knew this, for all his memory had been played with.
He did not want drama.  Conflict.  His father had been a simple farmer,
working hard, returning home from the field and just enjoying his family.
Never had Jack heard of dreams unfulfilled, of desires of travel.  Stories
of the wider world were just tales, entertainments that never evoked
desires to see cities and heroes any more than tales of the gods made one
want to seek out their company.  Gods were to be avoided.  So, too, cities,
armies...  witches.

   His eyes went to the woods, and the wilds beyond.  He could run.  There
must, surely, be a limit to the distance Wendy's control over him could
travel.  Jack could be a mile away, father, before she woke.  And what
could she do, with the others there with her?  Sam would stop her from
pursuing him.  Sam would...

   Jack looked back at the wagon.

   Sam.

   He could still feel her kiss.  The feel of her against him, her chest
against his.  Two days.  He had known her, all of them, for two days.  If
he left now, her hold on his heart could be easily broken.  Painfully,
true, but she would soon be just a dream.  A dream of what could have been.
Would his freedom be worth living on with just her memory?  This was his
one chance.  Hesitate, and the choice would be made for him...

   ****

   Sam dropped from the wagon, wet grass around her bare feet removing the
last vestige of sleep from her mind.  Closing her eyes, she took a deep
breath.  It had been...  how long?  Two weeks?  Three?  since they had fled
the city.  Three weeks since the stench of sewage, the press of people, had
assaulted her on waking.  It amused her that she had that thought every
morning, and probably would most mornings to come, until the dreaded day
her father's path took them once again into a city.  Maybe she could talk
him out of it.

   Her eyes slid back into the dark of the wagon, to the lumpy blanket
covered form on the floor.  That's not all she wanted to talk him out of.

   Sam couldn't be mad at her father.  Or Wendy, at least not regarding
this.  Dad...  took comfort in the arms of women.  He did not hide it from
them, was not ashamed.  Nor was Sam embarrassed or upset with that aspect
of his life.  It made him happy, in ways neither Sam nor Polly could. 
Since their mother had died, that need had to be filled somehow.  Polly had
to understand that.

   His taste in women, though, had never been one Sam could understand.

   He had been with Wendy.  That...  complicated matters.  Sam had spent
some time awake that night, contemplating if it hurt, or helped.  Dad was
not one to be bewitched, to let a woman control him.  He was strong.  So,
too, he would never let harm come to one under his protection, one his
daughters cared about...

   Her eyes flicked to Polly.  No.  That was no longer true.

   It was too much for her.  Too complicated.  Sam wanted the world black
and white, night and day.

   Love and hate.

   Leaving her two bunkmates to their slumber, Sam walked around the wagon.
Jack was sitting by the fire pit, stick in hand.  His blond hair stuck out
at some odd angles, obviously not well taken care of.  Once, she could
forgive.  Now, though, she saw she'd have to take charge in matters of his
grooming.  Reaching back into the wagon, her hand fished around blindly in
an open satchel.  It came out holding a wooden comb.  Checking it in the
faint light, she removed a few long black hairs.  Once decontamination was
complete, she approached the fire.

   Jack sat on an upright short log set inside the ring of seats, eyes on
the fire pit.  Sam saw small bits of tinder smoking among the ash.  He must
have found embers still warm, buried in the remains of last night's fire.
As she watched, a small flame appeared.  Quickly, but carefully, Jack laid
some small twigs over it.  Not too much.  One of the twigs caught.  He
began placing larger sticks.

   Sam moved up behind him.  She wasn't being quiet.  Jack seemed to pause
for a moment, before continuing in his task.  She smiled.  So, she was to
be ignored.  How dare he.  Coming to a stop behind him, she put the comb in
her mouth, reached out and ran her hands through his hair.  The light blond
locks were damp, to her surprise.  Now Jack did pause, fire spreading to a
second stick.  Her fingers touched his scalp, running along it as she
smoothed out the mess.  The shape roughly formed, she retrieved the comb
and began to run it through his hair.  Jack leaned back against her, body
seeming to relax.  Wooden teeth catching on a knot, Sam gave a disappointed
sigh.

   "This is such a mess," she said, softly.  "You're obviously not taking
care of it." She yanked, the knot giving way much more easily than if it
had been in her sister's long hair.  He didn't flinch.  Sam combed his hair
back behind his ears.  "You need someone to help you with something like
this.  Hair should be combed every morning." She paused, examining the
length.  It was longer than hers, but then she liked her hair cut short. 
Should she cut his?  It did look good long like this...

   Jack stayed silent, the fire before them continuing to grow.

   **** Polly stood on the stone floor, nude body shivering.  She always
shivered, just before.  It wasn't the cold of the stone, as she wasn't that
weak.  Nor was it fear.  It was...  anticipation.

   She could sense Timothy behind her, preparing.  He was not strong, like
her father.  Not physically.  Nor was he imposing.  Mentally, though... 
oh, mentally, he was as strong and brave as the greatest heroes.  Only one
who was, could master magic as he had.  Or was in the process of mastering.
Timothy was not yet there.  But, with her help...

   Soft hands, the hands of a scholar, took her bare shoulders and turned
her.  There, on the table, was a small locket.  It looked cheap, of
questionable artistry.  She reached out towards it.

   "Is this..."

   Gently, he took her arm and lowered it, lips next to her ear.

   "Her hair is inside.  Once we do this, the Duke's daughter will be able
to walk again while she wears this."

   Polly's breath caught.  The young girl would walk again.  The Duke would
be indebted to Timothy.  He, they, would be rewarded.  They could marry. 
Shivering again, she held out her right arm, palm up, fist clenched.

   "Do it.  Do it, my love."

   She felt his body press against her back.  His male member, creator of
the child inside her, pressed against her bottom.  She could feel it throb.
Timothy's left hand came around her body, resting on her belly.  The right,
knife held loosely, moved over her right wrist.  The blade rested against
her soft, smooth skin, covering scars of previous spells.  Those had been
practice.  They had been working towards this.  Ever since Polly had
realized her secret hours with him had created what she desired, he had
used her.  Used her, as she longed to be used.  Her eyes were frozen on the
blade, seeming to glow in the flickering candle light.

   "I love you, Polly."

   His whispered voice flowed through her mind.  At that moment, strange
characters began to be traced on her barely swollen belly.  Polly could
swear she could feel her baby react, moving.  Without warning, Timothy slid
the blade along her wrist.

   "Niech dziecko chodzic."

   Red blood shot from her arm.  It came out in pulses, each beat of her
heart sending more of her life force out.  Hers, and her child's.  Polly
could feel the heart of her child, beating alongside hers.  This was THIER
blood.  The blood that fed her baby.

   The blood of magic.

   It glowed, thousands of pink diamonds inside the river of red.  The
blood did not fall down, but instead gathered in a swirling mass above her
arm.  Three pulses.  Four.

   Timothy released the knife, hand moving swiftly to cover the wound.  He
spoke another word.  A flash of pain, the only pain she had yet felt, hit
as she heard the clatter of the blade near her feet.  His left hand left
her belly, moving towards the table.  It pointed at the locket.

   "Isc."

   The whirlpool of blood moved towards the locket...

   The apartment door burst open, its flimsy lock no match for a father
enraged.  Samantha stood behind him, eyes shocked, horrified.  A flash of
steal in the hands of the first man she ever loved.  As her blood entered
the locket, her father's dagger found its mark in the neck of her only
other love...

   ****

   Polly jerked awake, sitting up on the narrow bed.  Her chest heaved,
heart beating hard against it.  She could feel them.  Feel each of the
eleven cuts on her arm.  Feel them throb, ache.  Feel the pulse of her
blood flowing through her body, the pulse of her baby's blood.  She could
see the face of Timothy.

   "Polly?"

   Head turning, she saw Wendy kneeling beside her on the wagon floor.  The
witch's eyes were wide with worry, red hair a tangled mess.  Polly noticed
a few blades of grass caught in that hair.  Her father had taken her lover.
Was it then fate, that his lover would take Timothy's place?  Reaching her
hand out, Wendy placed it on Polly's belly.

   "You...  you're glowing so much.  So much magic.  I can see it even
under your clothing." She shook her head.  "Goddess, I've never seen
anything like it."

   Polly looked down at herself.

   "I wish I could see." She placed a hand over Wendy's.  The girl's dark
skin was soft, warm.  "Timothy said those with magic can never see it,
those who can see it can never have it.  To be able to...  use magic..."

   "Power," Wendy whispered.  "To have power, to be strong.  To be able to
bow to no one, to do what you will..." A look of guilt crossed her dark
face.  With seemingly great effort, her eyes met Polly's.  "I'm sorry. 
Last night, I...  your dad..."

   Polly let out a sigh, squeezing Wendy's hand.

   "I hated you, last night.  In the moment.  But..." She shook her head.
"Now, in the light of day, I understand.  You two have looked at each other
in ways I didn't want to recognize.  It was going to happen.  It will
happen again, I think?" She looked at Wendy, who nodded, blushing.  Polly
gave a small smile.  "Better you, than some tavern whore, at least.  I... I
can share him.  And you."

   Wendy's expression now became confused.  Polly took the girl's hand off
of her belly and held it with both of her own.

   "Use me, Wendy.  Make me yours.  Use my magic.  I know it has to be
done. I knew the risk.  Timothy fought when I told him, when I offered
myself and our baby to him.  I know more about what I'm asking than you can
imagine.  Please."

   The girl hung her head, the first time Polly had seen her look weak.

   "I...  I don't know any female magic.  Nothing I could use, with you.  I
know a few spells that use rats, cast one with a cat, to make foul water
drinkable, but that was it.  I can try it with you..."

   Polly squeezed her hand again.

   "I have his books."

   Wendy's gaze shot up to meet hers.  Polly recognized that look.  Greed.
Lust.  She nodded.

   "The books are yours.  Study them.  When you are ready...  I am yours."

   ****

   They were on the road after a breakfast of warmed stew, along with a
loaf of day old bread.  Soaked in the stew, it was quite tasty.  Jack did,
however, agree with the general feeling that meat would soon be needed. 
Gary's snares had been empty.

   Jack sat just behind the driver's bench, happy to be done walking.  With
the sky clear, Gary had taken in the canvas covering the wagon, leaving
just the four curved wicker supports arching over the cargo area.  Polly
had protested the loss of privacy...  although not too much, he noted. 
Certainly not as much as Jack would expect if she, as Sam had whispered to
him, was angry with her father over the previous night's activities. 
Indeed, she seemed...  in a good mood.  From Sam's look at her sister, Jack
figured this was a suspicious sign.  Polly and Wendy did keep to the back
of the wagon as they traveled, leaving a symbolic gap between the two
groups.

   That was more than fine with him.

   "We're going to need tents."

   Jack turned to Sam.  She was half turned in her seat, partly to face
Gary as he kept the two horses going at a steady pace, but mostly he
suspected so she could keep an eye on him.  Not that he minded.  He had
placed himself to have a similar view of her.

   "Hmm?" Gary's response to his daughters always amused Jack.  Here was a
man with long experience with women.  Sam turned her head a bit to roll her
eyes at Jack, then tried again.

   "Tents.  Those canvas things people sleep under?"

   "So, your schooling went so far as to teach you that?  And here I
thought you were always getting 'lost' on the way to the tutor the few
times I spent good money to send you."

   "She was a very willful child," Polly's voice added from behind.  "Don't
know where she got it from."

   Unable to help himself, Jack brought his hand up to Sam's bare arm.  She
paused in her reply, interpreting his writing.  Whatever her retort had
been, it was replaced with a bark of laughter.  Turning back to her sister,
she grinned.

   "Jack wants to know what you mean, 'was'."

   Polly looked back at the pair, eyebrows raised.  Wendy, for her part,
looked disturbed.

   "Oh," Polly asked her sister, "so Jack talks to you, does he?  What else
does he have to say?"

   Before he could reach out to her again, Sam leaned away and seemed to
think, eyes on the clouds.  She put a hand to her forehead.

   "He says..."

   "He says you should get back to the part about tents."

   Jack nodded at Gary's words, getting a rude sound from Sam in reply. 
Turning her back, she reached over and took the reins from her father.  He
released them without protest.

   "We need tents," Sam went on.  "Or something.  The sleeping arrangements
won't work like this."

   "Oh?" Gary's voice was no longer quite as playful to Jack.  He hoped Sam
noticed.

   "Yeah.  Well, for one, you two are really going to get wet under the
wagon the next time it rains.  Gonna happen, and you know it.  Two, with
five of us, we probably will be carrying more supplies with us, and that's
going to make it harder to sleep three in the wagon.  Wendy is smaller than
you, but it's still crowded in there as it is and I would LOVE to actually
have room to move a bit at night."

   She stopped there, waiting.  She kept her eyes on the road as her father
regarded her, hand going to stroke his freshly shaved chin.  Jack put a
hand up to his own chin.  He could feel some whiskers there.  He'd have to
shave, too.  He had no desire to have a beard.

   "What did you have in mind, Sam?" There was respect in that question. 
Sam obviously heard it, as when she turned to him Jack could see the slight
blush in her cheeks.

   "Well, at the very least, we can get a big tarp and some poles, so we
can put it up near the fire and cook and eat in the rain and aren't cooped
up in the wagon.  If it's a blowing rain, we can turn it into a kind of
lean-to." Jack was impressed.  Gary nodded for her to continue.  "For
sleep, well, I know you like to stand watch for awhile anyway.  We can get
you some kind of bedroll, you can stay under the tarp, or the wagon,
whatever you want.  We then get a tent for Jack, and a larger one for the
three of us."

   "Oh, so I don't get my own tent?"

   "It's your money," Sam told him, smiling.  "I was just thinking about
the bare minimum.  Three tents would be good, too.  Heck, I'd love one of
my own, but I'm not going to ask."

   "I know," Gary told her, reaching out to rub her head.  His eyes glanced
over at Jack, sitting behind his daughter, then returned to her.  "Is that
how you see the sleeping arrangements?  Me, Jack, and you three?"

   Sam's face turned serious.

   "If you'd like them some other way, just tell us."

   Jack looked back at Wendy.  The wonderful witch he would not dare think
anything bad about was blushing, eyes not meeting his.  He almost felt
sorry for her, having to deal with last night among them like this. 
Almost. Gary must have also seen her.  The man sighed.

   "Wendy..."

   "Dad." Polly moved to sit next to Wendy, putting an arm around her
shoulder.  "Not now.  At camp, you two can talk.  Don't embarrass her like
this." Wendy looked up at her, grateful.  Polly gave her a squeeze.  "I do
like the tent idea, though.  Give us all some privacy.  If we're going to
keep going, not settle down..."

   She turned, looking behind them.  Jack and the others did as well.  The
road behind was empty.

   "No," Gary told them.  "We won't be stopping for awhile."

   ****

   Heather pressed her body down flat on the ground, trying to will herself
invisible.  Rocks and sticks pushed back into her skin, as if fighting off
her attack on their domain.  She ignored them.  One sound.  One sound from
them, and the Duke's men would be on them.  She had to be strong...

   Cathy's body trembled against hers.  The eight year old, clutching a
doll that no longer looked like the plaything of royalty, also kept silent.
She was a good girl, strong.  Risking the movement, Heather slowly moved
her arm over her, hugging Cathy closer.  The trembling eased.  With a
command, the horses on the road galloped off.  The two girls waited.  After
a few moments, Heather decided to risk raising her head.  Slowly, her eyes
rose over the small rock they had cowered behind.

   The road was empty.

   "They're gone."

   She sat up, brushing off her frock.  Close.  Too close.  True, there was
no indication that those men were after them, but why take chances?  Cathy
was too easy to recognize.

   Cathy pulled herself up into a sitting position as well.  With arms
stronger, probably, than those of her servant despite being half her age,
the thin brown haired girl wrenched her useless legs around.  Heather
watched, knowing better than to try and help.  Instead, she looked around,
making sure they still had their packs.

   "Do we know Mother and Father sent them?"

   Heather shook her head.

   "No.  Are you sure you don't want to go back?  Tell your father, have
him look?"

   Now it was Cathy's turn to shake her head.

   "Father fears magic.  You know that.  If we could have gone to him at
the start..." She sighed, looking so much older than her years.  Cathy gave
her dirty doll a hug, then looked around.  "You'll have to find us another
horse.  We're still a few days behind them, right?"

   Heather reached into a pocket, a sigh of relief, as always, escaping
when she found the compass where it was suppose to be.  Pulling it out, she
opened the lid.  Inside the two inch long round wooden box, loadstone
shavings were slowly moving, reforming.  As she watched, they formed an
arrow.  Heather held it out to show to her Mistress.

   "The arrow is the same size, so we're not losing ground.  Unless the
warlock's power is fading."

   "Let's go then.  His wife HAS to have it..."

   Nodding in agreement, although not really believing, Heather stood,
turned, and knelt down with her back to the girl.  Cathy grabbed on to her
neck, as Heather fastened belts and straps under and around the young
girl's body, moving the useless legs around her waist, fastening the feet
together.  With a grunt, she pushed herself to her feet, staggering for a
moment as the weight shifted.

   "You OK back there, Miss?"

   "I'm good.  Hand me the pack." Heather squatted a bit, grabbed the back
pack, handing it back as she also grabbed the large shoulder bag before
once again standing.  She leaned forward as Cathy released her grip on her
neck and shoulders to put the pack on.  The weight shifted again, then
settled.

   "All set."

   Checking the arrow once again, cursing that it was not sending them down
the road, Heather began another day's work.

   ****

   Chapter 6

   Gary knew what he liked in a woman.

   Himself, naturally, to use the joke older than the oldest race.  As a
soldier, he wasn't above the obvious crude joke when it seemed the right
thing to say.  Beyond that, though, he liked a particular type of female
companion.  He liked them buxom, with some padding.  Willing, naturally. 
He was not into rape, even when, in the line of duty, it did seem the right
thing to do (luckily, his service to the Duke had not seen that sort of...
opportunity).  Smart, a bit sassy.  He wanted the total package, you might
say.

   Amy had been that.  They had married before he had even found service
with a Captain, with no thought to the future beyond that night's bed.  He
had never strayed.  She had not always believed that, soldiers being what
they are, but it was true.  None of the women frequenting the barracks ever
matched what he had back at home.

   Wendy was giving his memory of Amy a run for its money.

   It was the way she moved under him, body giving itself totally to
pleasure.  She was not greedy, like some of the bar maide who had shared
his bed.  Nor was she desperately trying to please, as widows were.  Wendy
sought pleasure in his pleasure, riding each wave and returning it, the
back and forth sending Gary to heights he had forgotten existed.  Maybe it
was her youth, her inexperience.

   Maybe it was just her.

   ****

   The two lay on a blanket away from the camp, the stars out above them.
Gary could see his youngest daughter through the trees, outlined against
the campfire alongside Jack.  Samantha's idea about the tents was gaining
his approval each night.  At the next town...  he'd dip into the slowly
shrinking pouch of gold at the next town.  Some luxuries were in fact
necessities.

   Wendy's warm body snuggled against him.  He marveled at her dark skin.
Gary had never seen someone so brown.  He almost lost her in the night, the
red hair on her head and between her legs seeming to float.  Then his hands
confirmed the luscious flesh between those two points.  Arm going around
her, he caressed her back, bringing a purr from her lips.

   It was easy to forget what she was.

   "Wendy."

   She stirred.  Pushing back from him a bit, her eyes opened.  They, too,
floated before him, small stars descended from above.

   "Don't want to go back yet." One of her hands began caressing him.  Gary
chuckled, pulling her body closer.  It was self preservation as much as
affection, her body heat staving off the growing chill.

   "Nor me, my lady.  First...  we must talk."

   She stiffened a bit.  Something in his voice must have set off her
defenses.

   "About...  what?"

   Gary considered how to frame this.  He was not, despite what his young
children might believe, blind to certain things.  However, magic was not an
area he knew of, nor cared to.  He was treading in dangerous waters.

   "I know...  you are helping Polly." Wendy blinked, body pulling away
just a touch.  Gary caressed her back.  "I'm not blind.  I know...  I know
that bastard did something to her.  With her, beyond what we saw. 
Something that may need the skill of someone like you to fix.  And, I'm
glad.  She seems, well, better.  Happier.  You...  you ARE fixing her,
Wendy?"

   Those eyes regarded him for awhile.  He tried to read something into
them.  For the first time, he couldn't.  They were alien eyes.  The eyes of
a witch.

   "I am helping her, Gary.  Helping her the only way she can be helped. 
Some things...  can not be undone."

   "But she will be well, right?  My daughter is free of that bastard?"

   The eyes came closer, Wendy's soft lips touching his in the night.

   "She is free of him."

   ****

   Wendy, frock once again on, walked into the firelight.  He had taken her
one more time, surprising them both.  Well, him, it seemed, more than her.
Wendy was young enough not to understand the limits of men.

   Nor her own.

   "I don't see why you bothered making clothing." Wendy stopped, eyes
going to the source of the sound.  Sam didn't even bother turning.  She sat
next to Jack, hips touching the boy's, both stirring the coals with sticks.
"I mean, you barely wear them."

   Wendy's eyes went first to the back of Jack's head, then Sam's.  Was
this...  somewhat friendly teasing?  It was the kind of thing she would say
to her sister, after all.  To get angry, when not called for, wouldn't
help. After a moment, she decided to just ignore it.  Wendy once again
began walking towards the wagon.

   "You left some blood on the knife."

   Now Sam was looking at Wendy when the witch stopped and turned.  The
black haired tomboy's face was unreadable.  Their eyes met.  Whatever the
girl was trying to tell Wendy, she turned away before Wendy could
comprehend.  Then she remembered.

   Polly.

   The spell.

   One hand slipped over her belly.  Her first spell using Polly.  Her
first spell using human blood.  Preventing, so she hoped, pregnancy for the
next month.  And Sam...  was giving warning?  Of what?  That she knew?  Or
that Wendy had been sloppy, so next time she could cover her tracks better?

   There were too many secrets here.  They would have to come out.

   Soon.

   ****

   Gary brought the wagon to a stop at the top of the rise.  Sam looked at
him questioningly, but said nothing.  The day had been long, but it was
still a bit early to begin looking for a campsite.  The horses had been
rested not an hour before.  Handing the reins to Sam, he stood, stepping up
on his seat to get an extra foot.  Sam immediately took the reins with one
hand and grabbed wildly for the brake.  He chuckled.  If the horses wanted
to move, the wagon was going to move, brakes or no brakes.

   "That doesn't look safe, Dad." Polly's voice was worried.

   "I know, but...  ah." Seeing what he wanted, Gary stepped down and sat,
taking the reins back from his relieved daughter.  He turned to look at his
passengers.  "There's a small town to the south, the road forking about a
mile ahead.  I think I've been there before, as a youth.  If so, we'll see
a path before the split, which leads to a clearing near a stream.  We'll
camp there for a few days.  There should be some game upstream a bit, plus
I'll set up some snares."

   "You're hunting?"

   Sam's voice was hopeful.  Grinning at his male daughter, Gary reached
out a hand to ruffle her hair.

   "Yes, for a day or two.  We need food, and maybe if I get lucky I'll get
enough to do some trading in town." Seeing the question about to pass
through her lips, He gave her head another squeeze.  "I'm going alone."

   "That's dangerous!"

   He turned at Wendy's protest.  She was in the second of her new outfits,
a light green dress that did nothing to diminish those breasts.  She was
leaning forward, eyes clearly upset.  Polly had a hand on her knee, as if
to restrain her.  He smiled at the girl.

   "It would be more dangerous, for you, if I took Sam with me.  Jack is
good in a fight, but nowhere near where Sam is.  I'll be OK, trust me.  I
won't go more than a few hours upstream." He turned to Sam.  "I'll take the
horn, OK?  You'll be able to hear it."

   "You'll never be able to bring more than one deer back by yourself." Sam
was practically pouting.  He couldn't help but laugh.

   "Confident in my abilities, are you?" She nodded, not seeing the humor
in it.  He shook his head.  "I'll blow one blast every hour if I need you
all to come help bring meat home.  More than that, you can come rescue me.
How's that?"

   Gary saw Sam's eyes shift to Jack.  The boy's hand went to her arm,
tracing letters.  Once again, seeing him touch his daughter brought mixed
feelings to the fore.  Hadn't that been the start of all this, when
Polly...

   No.  It had been his fault, for not paying attention.  He liked Jack. 
Trusted Jack.  As the teen's fingers did their thing on her arm, Gary saw
Sam's body slowly deflate in resignation.  Gary moved his hand to her
shoulder.

   "It'll be OK.  You're needed to protect your sister." He cocked his
head, as if considering something.  "Start teaching Jack some swordplay. 
Give him the basics." Her eyes lit up at that, even as Gary suddenly had a
pang of doubt.  He hoped steel swords were all the two teens sparred with.

   ****

   Wendy watched as Gary unfurled the wagon cover.  He had to bend over as
the canvas passed over his head, ducking down below the height of the
curved supports, letting go and letting the remaining fabric fall once it
had reached the other side.  Jack and Sam moved to stretch and tie down the
covering.  Wendy, though, stayed where she was.  She saw Gary rummage
through sacks and boxes, pulling out various items to fill his pack.  She
held his bow, quiver at her feet.

   It was one thing to sleep with a man, her Mistress and Mentor Quinnia
had instructed her.  One thing to enjoy the pleasure that was her due.  It
was another...  to have feelings for a male.  To care.  The same was true
with females, to a certain extent.  Both genders existed to provide Witches
with power, and sex partners, and were to be considered as disposable. 
Only then would one survive in the world of magic.

   "Never," the witch Quinnia had told her, "allow a male to be your equal.
Equals cancel each other out.  If you are not dominant, you are a slave. 
If you are to be a slave, better for me to kill you now, than to have
wasted my time."

   Quinnia had been on the verge of killing Wendy.  Was what she was
feeling, now, one of the signs Mistress Quinnia had seen?  Had what had
caused her to be caught in her Mistress's chamber that day had been that
she was, in fact, a failure?  That if she continued on this path, she would
be lost?

   Gary dismounted from the wagon, pack in hand.  He straightened.  Wendy
admired his arm muscles.  His lean, powerful form.  Saw his smile, the way
his eyes seemed to dance as they looked at her.

   If she was lost, would it be so bad if it was with him?

   He stood before her.  Wendy could feel the eyes of the others.  Always,
what they had done had been in the dark, away from the...  children.  Now,
in the early afternoon light, Gary leaned down and kissed her.  One strong
hand was on her back, pulling her body against him.  Her own body was limp,
allowing him to do as he wished.  Or, so she had thought, before she
realized the bow had been dropped, her own arms around him, one hand
caressing his ass.  His kiss turned into a grin.  Pulling back, releasing
her, he just laughed.

   "I'm tempted to bring you with me, but I doubt I'd get much hunting
done."

   "Oh," Sam said, dryly, "take her.  We won't stop you." Wendy could feel
her face turning red.  To distract herself, she bent down to get his bow
and quiver.  She realized, suddenly, her top needed a few more stitches if
such activity was to be common in the future.  Stiffly, she handed the
weapons to him.

   "Here.  Be safe."

   "You too, Wendy." Gary looked around towards his daughters and Jack. 
"Play nice.  I'll be back by tomorrow night, most likely.  The day after at
the latest.  Listen for the horn." Sam was at his side, giving him a quick
hug.  She received a quick kiss on the forehead, then backed away.

   In moments, he had faded away into the woods.

   Wendy felt three pairs of eyes on her.

   Samantha came to stand before Wendy.  Her arms were crossed, looking in
her trousers and shirt for all the world like a younger Gary.  Her
expression was firm.

   "It's time the four of us talked."

   ****

   The teens sat around the cold fire pit.

   Sam wondered at this.  Not that there were campsites spaced along the
roads, even the smaller ones they had been taking.  That just made sense.
No, it was the fact they were cold.  Fellow travelers had been few.  Not
once since meeting Jack and the witch had they shared a camp with others.
It seemed...  unnatural.

   So, too, was the brown skinned girl across from her.  That red hair...
even not knowing her profession, Sam would not have fully trusted someone
with hair like a pale, ghostly fire.  She was as opposite from the blond
whiteness of Jack as to make it easy to think of them as good and evil.

   Too easy.

   Sam sat next to Jack on a log, She had taken the boy's hand, arm wrapped
around his possessively.  Wendy was across from them, Polly at her side. 
Her sister.  sighing, put a hand on Wendy's knee as she looked at Sam.

   "What do you want to know?"

   Sam took a deep breath, steadying herself.  She squeezed Jack's hand.

   "Polly...  do you know what Wendy has done to Jack?" The question seemed
to surprise her.  That made Sam a bit more confident.  Eyes locking with
her sister's, she squeezed Jack's arm tighter.  "That...  witch, has
enslaved him.  Made him hers.  Jack can't speak against her, can't act
against her, without suffering horrible pain.  He can't even tell me what's
wrong!" She couldn't help it.  Sam began crying.  She felt Jack squeeze her
hand, but kept her eyes on Polly.

   Polly's expression was one of shock...  then, to Sam's disbelief, became
one of acceptance.  The older girl turned to Wendy.

   "You marked him?  Why didn't you tell me?"

   "She ENSLAVED him!" Sam was on her feet, only Jack's strong hand keeping
her on this side of the fire pit.  Polly's eyes were firm, as if she was
dealing with a child.

   "It's not enslavement, Samantha.  Not even close." She turned back to
Wendy.  "Tell her.  Tell us what happened."

   Sam sat back down.  Wendy closed her eyes.

   "Jack...  was owned by my Mistress."

   "Owned?" Sam's eyes were wide.  Wendy opened her eyes and nodded.

   "I don't know where she got him, if she bought him, captured him, or,
well, even bred and raised him.  All I know is he was there, in her
quarters.  Mistress Quinnia...  hprepared him.  To be a source of magic.  I
used him, as a last resort, to escape."

   "Once you are used," Polly said, her voice one of reason, "you must
continue to be used.  Jack is like a dam, with magic filling up behind his
wall.  If the pressure grows too great..." She sighed.  "I am the same way,
Sam.  I...  I must be used.  I knew the risk, when Timothy began.  He even
tried to talk me out of it." She smiled at Wendy, a true smile, one Sam had
rarely seen.  "Wendy here is helping me.  She is helping Jack."

   "Then WHY," Sam interrupted, "is he in pain?!"

   She saw Polly's eyes grow uncertain.  They looked at Wendy, the question
unspoken.  The witch hung her head.

   "Jack...  is a spell book."

   Polly's face went white.  She stood, walking across the dead fire until
she stood in front of Jack.  Sam watched, incredulous, as her sister
dropped to one knee.  Reaching out a hand, she stroked Jack's cheek.

   "Oh, Jack, Jack...  I'm sorry." She turned to Sam.  "Is his memory
gone?"

   "He...  he has gaps.  Says he remembers his parents, but not how they
look." Polly shook her head.

   "This is wrong.  Evil.  Your Mistress, Wendy, was an evil bitch." She
looked back at the witch.  "She had to make room.  Make room for her
spells. She pushed out his memory, not caring what was lost.  May have
eventually pushed it all out, if he had stayed there." She paused a moment,
expression hardening.  "You used the spell, didn't you?"

   "What spell?" Sam asked, now frightened.  Jack squeezed her hand.  She
dared not look at his face.

   "The last spell," Wendy answered, shoulders slumped.  Her gaze was on
her sandaled feet.  "It...  it's almost like it called me.  I had to cast
it.  That night, in the inn.  It said what it did, but, I didn't really..."

   "What did she do?" Sam's voice was cold.  Polly just sighed, standing.

   "She bound his life to hers.  If she dies, so does he.  To prevent
others from using him..."

   ****

   Jack sat on the bank of the stream.  It was a small one, maybe as wide
as a man, ankle deep in most places.  There would be no large fish to be
found, just frogs, maybe.  Bugs, for the frogs to eat.  A small black
creature flew up, landing on his arm.  Jack regarded it for a moment... 
then swatted.

   It squished nicely.

   He was a possession, now.  A...  thing.  A book.  His entire future, was
at the mercy of the Witch.

   His memory.  Gone.  Forever.  There would be no remembering what was
lost.  It was not hidden, buried.  It had been torn out, to make room.  His
life...  he was not at the start of a new existence, free to choose his
path.  Like a dog, Jack would follow Wendy.  Like a silent, inhuman
animal...

   Jack didn't have to look to know the body settling down on the grass
beside him was Sam.  By now, he knew the sound of her footsteps, the aura
of her presence.  Her hip pressed against his, a contact that always made
him shudder.

   "You found a good place to hide."

   Her voice was soft, quiet.  They were a good distance from the camp,
Jack having followed the stream for a bit before finding a natural seat on
its bank.  You could almost pretend you were alone here...

   "Jack, look at me."

   He did.  Her eyes shown, wet with tears.  Her face was like that of an
angel, weeping for mankind.  It was him she cried for, though.  Her sorrow
was for him.  Unable to help himself, Jack, reached out and wiped her eyes.

   "Oh, Jack..."

   He knew what she was going to say.  She was going to make promises. 
Rail against fate, life, Wendy.  Well, he had something to tell her, too.
Something as important, if not more so.  His hand slid to the back of her
head, through her short black hair.  He leaned into her, even as he pulled
her head to him.  Sam gave no resistance, as their lips touched.

   Sam's arms snaked around him, even as Jack lowered her back onto the
grass.  Her small mouth opened, tongue slipping out to lick his lips.  He
responded in kind, tasting her salty skin.  She moaned into his mouth, even
as one of his legs found itself between hers, knee pressing against her. 
Sam began slowly rubbing herself against it.

   ****

   After forever, Jack lifted himself up with his arms.  Sam lay under him,
eyes closed, lips parted.  She was slowly, leisurely, riding his leg.  Her
top had ridden up, exposing her flat belly.

   He wished he could speak.  Wished he could tell her.  Tell her how
beautiful she was.  How all that was to come would be bearable, if she was
at his side.  How...

   Lifting one of his hands, trusting the other to support him, Jack
lightly touched her soft stomach with a finger.  Her eyes shot open. 
Staring deep into them, Jack traced lightly on her skin.  He wrote slowly,
deliberately.  Making sure each letter was perfect.  Her eyes widened with
each stroke.

   "I love you too," she whispered.  "Oh, Jack, I love you.  I want to be
with you.  Forever." Her hands snaked up to draw him into another kiss,
even as his hand, wanting to continue the message, began to slide up her
ribs, towards the waiting treasure filled hills...

   "Sam!  We need firewood!"

   The cry was faint, showing they were not, yet, looking for them.  With a
sigh, Jack raised his head, pulling his hand out from under her shirt.  Sam
shot a hand out, catching it before it could completely withdraw.  Slowly,
she moved it higher, until his fingers just touched her mound, then pulled
his hand out again.

   "Tonight," she said, intertwining her fingers with his.  "Tonight, I'm
yours."

   ****

   Chapter 7

   Wendy looked up from the magic book, as Polly, humming, stirred the pot.

   There was a part of her, a small part, that realized she should be
helping with dinner.  Helping set up camp.  After all, it was the right
thing to do, the fair thing to do.

   However, it was also the non-Witch thing to do.

   Wendy had busted her butt in the service of her Mistress.  She had
scrubbed the walls, scrubbed the floors, scrubbed the clothing, scrubbed
the dirty pots and pans.  Basically, her magical training had consisted of
99% slave labor.  Could she be blamed, now, for not wanting to do that kind
of crap?  She would, naturally, if it was needed.  But, Polly was cooking,
the wood was collected...

   ...and, well, she did need to get some reading in while there was still
light.

   The magic books Polly had given her were way beyond Wendy's
comprehension.  They assumed skills and knowledge she had not acquired
while scrubbing.  Each page held not just the gestures and words, but
seemed to be filled with magic themselves.  The volumes practically hummed
in her hand.  She had tried to memorize a few of the spells, but had found
it virtually impossible.  They were too...  large, almost, overflowing her
mind.  No wonder it had been necessary to empty Jack's to make room.  Wendy
had, after two days, managed to commit one to memory, a female variation on
the spell she had used to escape with Jack.  With it, she could teleport
away from danger.  She would also have no control over where she ended up,
but the description promised the landing spot would be safe.  It might be a
safe spot on an empty island with no hope of rescue, but she'd be safe.  A
spell to save for a last resort, if there ever was one.

   Looking down at the current volume, Wendy decided there wasn't much more
to get out of it for now.  For the most part, she was just getting a sense
of what was in there.  Placing bookmarks for spells she might need.  The
books themselves were very helpful in this regard.  Custom bound by Polly's
Master (mate, boyfriend, whatever), each volume had a different feel.  It
was easy to grab the right one when reaching into the travel pouch he also
seemed to have made.  A very resourceful man, this Timothy.  He obviously
would have made an excellent teacher, if Wizards could teach Witches. 
Closing the book, she replaced it in the satchel, grabbing for the next
one.

   "No, no!  Not like that!"

   Her eyes flicked up.  Sam was attempting, with limited success it looked
like, to teach Jack to use a sword.  Or, at least, how to bang long sticks
together.  Kids playing, in other words.  She looked down at the current
book.

   It was different than the others.  Smaller.  Heavier.  Wendy frowned. 
She somehow had missed this one on her earlier explorations of the bag.  It
had a metal clasp, holding the volume closed.  The fact none of the others
had meant...  what?  Hefting it in her hand, the clasp suddenly sprung,
brown covers falling open, half the pages following each side.

   Inside, she saw a thin, silver locket.

   Wendy...  considered it.  It was cheap looking, the kind of thing a
merchant would hang out on top of the counter, not hide below where
thieving fingers couldn't reach.  Yet, it was in a book of magic.  Her
expression became wary.

   "Polly?"

   The woman looked over.  Wendy was watching, saw the expression of
sorrow, despair flash over Polly's face.  Then it was gone, replaced by a
smile, which, though familiar, now had hidden depths.  Polly left the pot
boiling over the fire, coming to kneel down before the witch.

   "This...  this book, you should stay away from it.  For awhile, at
least." Wendy just stared at her.  Polly swallowed, licking her lips.  Her
expression became more pleading.  "Please?"

   Wendy glanced back down at the locket.  The power...  she was in no way
ready for this book.  Nodding, she closed the volume.  Polly visibly
relaxed, smiling a true smile.

   "Thank you.  Timothy used that book for...  special rituals."

   Wendy nodded.  She would stay away from it...  for now.

   ****

   "No, no!  Keep your legs apart!"

   Sam walked over and stood before Jack.  With a whack, she hit the inside
of his left leg with her wooden sword.  His leg shifted, widening his
stance.

   "A bit more." Another light whack resulted in another inch.  Stepping
back and looking him up and down, she nodded.  "Good.  You want to give
yourself as sturdy a frame as possible.  Especially when you're on
defense."

   Jack smiled.  She was so cute when she was serious.  A slight blush
touched her cheek, quickly followed by a hardening of her expression.  Jack
just grinned more.

   "Oh, I'm going to wipe that grin right off your face." She backed up
about five feet, moving into the same attack stance she had shown him not
long before.  "Get ready."

   Jack adjusted his grip.  The stick wasn't that comfortable, which wasn't
surprising.  They had found two reasonably straight branches, cutting off
the extra and lashing a short cross piece for the guard.  There was a knot,
right under his thumb, which was starting to annoy him.  It had dug in
during the last two attacks, not breaking the skin, but leaving a nice
indentation.  Maybe after dinner he could carve...

   "Defend!"

   She came at him, sword coming in from his right.  Silently grunting,
Jack got his sword up.  Sam hit hard, the crack of sticks colliding
followed by his hands stinging like hell.  She wasn't done, though. 
Following through, her sword came off of his as she lowered herself and
spun.  The momentum carried her weapon right into the back of his leg.

   "And you're dead!"

   Jack jumped away, spinning himself to face her.  Sam just grinned.

   "Watch the follow through.  Most fights are only going to last one or
two swings.  Make sure your second swing gets there first!"

   ****

   The four sat around the campfire, dinner digesting.  It had been another
meatless stew.  Sam missed meat.  Oh, sure, she hadn't gone without it for
that long, but she was young.  It was a larger fraction of her life than if
she was old like Dad.  She couldn't wait until he brought home a nice large
buck, or a wild boar.  Then, there would be some good feasting!

   Wendy sat across from her, looking a bit worried.  Now, what could be
worrying little Miss Witch?

   "Problem, Wendy?"

   Sam felt Jack's hand on her knee.  He was warning her to play nice, most
likely.  Oh, she would.  But that didn't mean she wasn't going to play. 
Wendy regarded her seriously.

   "I'm just worried about your father.  I don't like him being alone like
this."

   The fact that Sam felt the same way almost made her want to lash out at
the girl.  After all, who was she to worry about Dad?  Jack's hand
squeezed, calming her.  Sam took in a deep breath...  and released it.

   "He'll be fine.  He was always going out hunting, usually with some of
the other guards, but also alone if Mom needed something special for the
table.  He'd be gone for days, as you don't find much close to the city."
Sam paused, looking out past Jack into the darkness.  She pursed her lips.
"To be honest, I hope he gets far enough from this town that's nearby to
find some game.  I haven't even seen much small stuff, and that's
worrying." A finger traced on the back of her hand.  She listened, then
nodded.  "There's not even any frogs out by the stream."

   "There are crickets, though," Polly said, a half smile on her face. 
"Maybe you two should go hunting."

   "I'll catch them, if you cook and eat them!"

   Wendy suddenly stood.  She looked down at Polly, then nervously at Sam.
Sam's expression hardened.

   "What?"

   "Well..." Wendy seemed to be talking herself into something.  "What
if... I made things easier for Gary?" Sam's eyes widened, Wendy going on
before she could speak.  "There's a spell I saw.  It brings a game animal
to the hunter, and lets him kill it easily.  We can make sure Gary doesn't
come home empty handed."

   "He wouldn't, anyway!" Sam was indignant.  "Dad's a damned good hunter!"

   "Now, Sis..."

   "Don't 'Sis' me, she just insulted Dad!" Jack's hand squeezed hard.  She
glanced at him.  He...  she took another deep, calming breath, then looked
back to Wendy.  "Sorry, sorry.  It's just...  sorry." Wendy nodded.

   "I know."

   Sam thought.  The girl did have a thing for her father, and him for her.
She wasn't going to do anything foolish regarding him.  And, there was
something strange going on...

   "Ok.  Do it."

   Wendy stepped around the fire.

   "I need Jack for this..."

   ****

   Wendy's teacher would have punched her hard in the head if she had seen
Wendy like this.  A witch was never, ever, to act subservient.  NEVER place
themselves below another.  Yet, here she was, kneeling before a sitting
Jack, new dress getting dirty as she pulled his pants down and pulled out
his cock.

   Diplomacy.  That was the key.  That she was Mistress to both Sam's
sister and...  playmate, and lover to her father, was not something to be
lorded over the girl at this time and place.  Later, once Wendy was more
secure, then certainly.  But, not now.  She placed a finger on her slave's
member.

   "This won't hurt him, Samantha."

   That wasn't what the girl was worried about, most likely, given where
her eyes were focused, but that was another reason Wendy was doing this. 
Yes, she honestly did want to help Gary.  But she also had to impress on
the child before her that SHE, Wendy, had the only claim on Jack that
mattered.  She had to understand, and accept.  Things would go much easier
after that.

   "Rosnac."

   He became hard before her, hot, throbbing.  Wendy gripped it, as the
blueness of male magic filled her eyes.  The spells quickly followed.  They
rushed by her eyes, much too fast.  Gritting her teeth, she focused.  They
slowed.  Now, then.  The one she wanted was near the middle.  Yes.... 
there.  That one.

   "Sam, get me one of Gary's arrows."

   The girl paused a moment, hand holding Jack's, eyes focused on the first
male she had seen besides her father, then she moved towards the wagon. 
There were extra arrows there, Wendy knew.  Gary hadn't planned on fighting
off an army or anything, and could always retrieve or repair arrows if he
ran short.  The girl was back quickly, holding one of his custom made
projectiles.

   "Hold it in your hand, just like that." Wendy checked the spell again,
making sure, then with her left hand drew a rune in the air around the
arrowhead, ending by touching the point.  "Przyniesc zabic."

   Semen exploded from Jack, shooting in the air.  The blue life-force
sparkled inside, outshining the fire behind her.  It gathered in a swirling
mass above their heads, as if contemplating their next move.  A small
strand reached out to touch the arrow's tip, startling Sam.  The rest shot
out into the forest.

   Jack was now limp in Wendy's hand.  She released him.  His body was also
limp, but he came to quick enough to stay upright.  Wendy watched as his
mind returned, eyes focusing on her.

   Those eyes would never understand, or accept.

   ****

   Sam walked slowly through the dark forest, the babble of the stream her
guide.  She knew he had come this way, was, in fact, probably in the same
spot.  It's not that Jack was predictable.  More...  it was that there were
few places he would go here he knew she would find him.

   If he wanted to be found.

   She paused, rolled up blanket almost slipping from her grip.  Jack... 
might want to be alone.  She could be reading the signs all wrong.  After
this evening, he might not want to be with her.

   She wanted to be with him, though.  More than ever.  And, if not
tonight, with Dad gone, the others in bed, and the stars shining, then
when? Telling herself that she would go, if sent away, Sam continued on.

   ****

   Sam found him, not on the bank of the river, but on a flat grassy spot
not far from a large maple tree.  He was laying on his back, eyes on the
stars.  He was still wearing the pants and shirt they had bought for him,
both in need of a good wash.  So was he, most likely, not that she was any
different.  Travel did not leave one squeaky clean.  Pausing near him, Sam
warred with herself.  Part of her wanted to just lie down next to him. 
Talk to Jack, comfort him.  Kiss, caress...

   Biting her lower lip, she chose the other option.  As his blond covered
head swung towards her, Sam dropped the blanket and pulled her shirt over
her head.  She could see, or think she saw, his blue eyes widen as she
stood exposed to a boy for the first time.  She was not much, she knew. 
Thin, with small breasts, and equally small nipples.  Nothing compared to
her sister, let alone the comically large Wendy.  The air was still warm,
but she felt her nipples harden regardless.  Quickly, while she had the
nerve, Sam undid her rope belt.  Trousers and under shorts dropped.  She
stepped forward out of them, the feel of grass on her bare feet somehow
exotic now that the rest of her was bare as well.  Without a word, she lay
herself down next to Jack.

   As his warm body pressed against hers, all fear and doubt left Sam.  She
pulled herself half on top of him, one bare leg pressing between his, lips
seeking their mates.  She felt his hands come up, running over her back,
arms, ass, before one moved around to cup a breast.  She groaned, turning
it into a whimper as his covered leg rose and pressed against her sex.  She
broke their kiss, forehead pressing against his.

   "Oh, Jack..." One hand snaked its way down his body, between his legs,
searching for what she desired most...

   Sam felt no hardness.  No swell of his manhood.  Raising her head, she
looked at Jack's face in surprise.  He closed his eyes, turning away, face
full of embarrassment and shame.

   The witch.

   She had drained him.  Completely.  Taken from Jack that which Sam
desired.

   Well.

   "It's OK, my love." Sam gently kissed his cheek, then rubbed her own
against it.  "Let me see if I can undo her evil." He turned back to her,
questioningly.  Eyes glowing, she kissed his nose, then lips.  Moving so
she straddled him on all fours, she began kissing her way down his body. 
As she passed his own breasts she pulled his shirt up, revealing white,
perfect skin.  He tasted of sweat, dust, maleness, as she made her way
down. She paused at his belly button, giggling as its existence, as if it
proved he was human and not some god or magical being.  Her hands undid his
belt, pulling his pants down enough to reveal her goal.

   His member was soft, maybe two inches long, a stubby mushroom nestled in
a thin patch of light yellow hair.  Two fleshy eggs hung beneath it.  Sam
had seen her father before, both in this state and the other, but never had
she felt...  well, she couldn't even attempt to describe it.  Her heart was
beating loudly in her head, her breasts hard, aching, the slit between her
legs seeming to throb.  With that, there was also anger.  Anger at the
Witch.  At the thought someone else dared to steal what should be freely
given.  Bending down, Sam lightly kissed Jack's cock.

   She began with the tip, lips lightly touching the curved head.  Her
kisses were light, tender.  She moved slowly over the head, down the shaft,
lifting it with her small hand so she could move to the bottom.  It stayed
soft.  After a few minutes, Sam added a flick of her tongue to her kisses,
lightly licking the warm flesh.  The licks became longer.  She nibbled, a
bit, on the edge of the mushroom head, taking her time, surprised at how
much she enjoyed it.  Jack's hands were in her hair, playing with her
scalp. Her lips moved to the notch at the bottom of the head, giving it a
light flick of her tongue.

   Sam felt a slight movement in him.

   Not daring to hope, she focused on that spot, licking, nibbling.  The
shaft began to gain shape, slowly growing.  Sam slipped her lips over the
entire head, taking it into her mouth, tongue bathing the bottom.  She
could feel the entire cock growing, straightening, becoming harder.  Jack's
hands were gripping her head, his entire body trembling.

   The witch had lost.

   ****

   Sam knelt above Jack, his hard manhood touching her opening.  Their eyes
were locked, Sam completely lost in his gaze.  She loved him.  Would
protect him.  Care for him.  Be his wife, his lover, his everything.  All
she had to do was lower herself, and they would be joined.  Forever.  One
of Jack's hands, trembling, came up, finger touching her belly.  It traced
a heart.

   With a sob, Sam let herself drop onto him.

   She was a virgin, although the proof of that had broken long ago.  Never
had she played with herself, nor had she ever been penetrated.  There was
pain, as she was stretched, filled.  Sam gritted her teeth as Jack fully
impaled her.  She dropped down on all fours, head above Jack's.  His eyes
were wide, with shock, awe, and joy.  His strong arms wrapped around her,
pulling Sam down against him as he kissed her.  She felt him begin to
withdraw, then thrust back.  Pain, slowly, was replaced, as her body
adjusted, responded.  She felt pleasure, so unknown her mind did not know
how to react.  Her body did, though, guiding them both through their first
joining.

   Jack stiffened.  His hands, cupping her small ass cheeks, squeezed them
almost painfully.  Sam felt him swell inside her...  followed by a warmth
flowing up into her very soul.

   What the Witch had been forced to take from an unwilling host, Jack had
joyfully given Sam.  A gift, more precious than any spell.  This..  this
was the true magic of life, and love.

   They were Man and Woman.

   ****

   Jack awoke, mind full of confusing thoughts and emotions.  Dreams of
Samantha had been interrupted by...  something.  Eyes on the starry night
sky, he tried to sense what had awoken him.

   Sam groaned, body pressed against his.  She was warm, soft, a wonderful
blanket if ever there was one.  He smiled, thoughts turning to her, and
only her.  Sam's face, laying on his chest, looked beautiful, peaceful. 
Raising a hand, he swept her short hair back, uncovering a small, delicate
ear.  He wished he could speak.  Could tell her how much he loved her, how
much he cared for her.  Tell Samantha he wanted her by his side forever,
would protect her from the world and all it held.  Fill those lovely ears
with the sounds of love...

   The faint sound of horn blasts penetrated through the night air.

   Jack jerked up into a sitting position, hands grabbing Sam to keep her
from falling.  Her eyes, full of sleep, opened, blinking rapidly.

   "Wha...?"

   The horn came again, three short blasts, followed by....

   A roar.

   Sam was on her feet in an instant, Jack with her.  His pants, still
around his legs, were quickly pulled up as Sam also took the extra second
to dress.  He waited for her, eyes darting around the forest, grabbing her
hand as soon as her shirt was over her head.  They ran for the camp.

   ****

   "POLLY!"

   Her sister's cry awoke Polly fully.  It was a cry of terror, fear.  Even
as Wendy, on the floor, groggily struggled onto her elbows, Polly slid down
the length of her bed on the wagon bench and out onto the ground.  The fire
was low, but still going, showing it was not yet close to morning.  From
the trees she saw Sam and Jack running towards her, both fully dressed. 
Well, it wasn't an attempted rape, then, although if anything she thought
it would be Sam forcing herself on the poor boy.  She shook her head to
clear it.

   "What is it?"

   "Dad's horn!"

   As if summoned, she heard it, distant.  Three short calls in the night.

   "Oh, God....  WENDY!" The witch's head popped out of the wagon, sleep
still in her eyes.  "Wendy, get the book bag.  Volume three, the directed
teleport spell.  We have to go to Dad." A roar, again distant.  "Hurry!"

   Polly saw Sam strap her sword belt on, Jack doing the same.  His weapon
was taken from one of the bandits killed in their first meeting.  Sam also
grabbed the quiver of their father's extra arrows

   "I need a light!"

   Jack was there next to them, holding a log from the fire, as Wendy
dropped from the wagon book in hand, satchel around her shoulder.  Polly
moved his arm to bring it closer to the witch without burning them. 
Wendy's hands were trembling as she searched through bookmarked pages.  She
stopped, eyes scanning.

   "Got it!  Jack, Sam, grab onto Polly!"

   Without even being asked, Polly held out her bare arm.  Holding the book
open with one hand, Wendy drew her dagger.  She drew a rune with the tip,
Polly feeling the familiar tingle flowing through her body, the almost
sexual thrill.  With no warning, Wendy slashed the blade against her arm.

   "Zabierze nas!"

   ****

   Wendy blinked as her feet went from grass to cold water and slippery
stones.  They were standing in the middle of a wide stream, the four of
them, forest close on either side, coming right up to the water's edge. 
Before them...  oh, Goddess, before them...  Gary.

   He was running down the middle of the stream, arms pumping, legs
straining.  Behind him...  a monster.  Wendy's throat went dry.  It was
some kind of bear, as large as a building, as wide as the stream.  Its eyes
almost glowed in the dark, starlight reflecting off of massive teeth.  As
she watched, frozen, it let off a roar that turned her blood to ice.

   They were doomed...

   "Dad!"

   Sam leapt forward, drawing her sword.  Gary saw them, almost falling as
he pulled up, still a good forty feet away.  Turning, he notched an arrow
and raised his bow.  Wendy could now see other arrows embedded in the
monster.  Goddess...

   Wendy looked at Polly.  The woman was kneeling, holding her right wrist,
eyes wide in terror.  Wendy had cut her deeply.  She was of no use at the
moment, would not be useable until she recovered some strength.  Her eyes
went to Jack.  He was drawing his sword, a bit awkwardly, not used to the
action.  She grabbed his arm.

   "No!  I need you!"

   Without pausing, she shoved her right hand into his pants.  He should be
recharged.  She should be able to find a spell, any spell...

   Jack was limp.

   She made the rune again.  There was no response.  Her eyes jerked up to
Jack's face.  The hatred there took her breath away.  Pulling her hand out,
he flung it aside as he ran after Sam.

   They were doomed...

   ****

   Sam ran to her father.  He was standing tall, bow in his hands, strong,
powerful.  She skidded to a stop beside him, water splashing.  Sword held
before her with both hands, she set herself in a defensive stance.

   "What the hell is it?!"

   "No idea," He said, voice almost calm.  Notching another arrow, he let
it fly.  The monster roared, arrow finding its target in its neck.  "It
came on my camp a little while ago." He glanced at her, hand retrieving
another arrow from his quiver.  "Why are you here?"

   "Why?!  Because you blew that blasted horn, that's why!  What did you
think we'd do!"

   "Walk," He said, laughing.  "I forgot about Wendy." Firing again, he
lowered the bow.  "Arrows aren't working, and I honestly don't know if we
can run.  It's damned fast on solid ground." Jack came up next to them. 
Reaching over, he wrote on Sam.  She translated.

   "No magic for now, Dad.  We either run or fight.  I vote for fight."

   Gary's eyes went over his shoulder, to the two women behind them.  Sam
kept her eyes on the monster.  She was terrified.  Terrified they'd be
killed.  Terrified she would disappoint her father.  Terrified...  that she
wouldn't be able to protect jack.

   She had to protect him, at any cost.

   "I'll flank him," she said.  Sword lowered, she ran towards the right
hand bank.

   "Sam!"

   Her dad was too protective of her.  She could handle herself, could
survive a fight.  She reached the edge of the stream.  Water had cut
through the earth here, leaving a three foot cliff running along the bank.
She could climb it, easily, but it would require putting her sword down and
leaving her back to the monster.  Neither was a good idea.  Even as she
turned to mark its position, the bear-thing roared again, charging down the
center of the stream.  She saw her father and Jack move apart, swords at
the ready.  It was ignoring her.  Good.  As it passed...

   At the last moment, it swerved, throwing its bulk against the riverbank.
Sam cried out, as fur and filth came crashing towards her.  She dropped to
the ground, half in the water, sword held above her.  As the monster hit
the embankment, mud and rocks exploding outward, her sharp steel sliced
into its body.  The creature jerked away, roaring again, blood shooting
out. Then it was past.

   Sam struggled to her feet.  It could be hurt.  That was good.  Now, she
just had to...

   "GARY!!!"

   The monster had her dad in its mouth.

   She watched, frozen, as Polly and Wendy let out horrified screams. 
Almost in slow motion, Jack hacked at the thing's neck, only to be slapped
aside by those powerful arms.  Her dad hung, limp, limbs dangling from its
slobbering jaw.

   A calm fell over Sam.  She was running, charging the bear.  Her sword
lashed out, slicing into hits hind quarters.  The thing whirled, throwing
her father's body towards the shore.  She hacked again, blade biting deep.
Too deep: it caught, in bone or hard muscle.  As the creature twisted, the
sword was forced from her hand, embedded in the monster.

   It looked at her.  There was blood on its teeth.  The blood of her dad's
life.  She could smell its breath, feel the evil and hatred coming from its
very essence.

   "Damn you!!!"

   Without thought, Sam reached over her shoulder and grabbed an arrow. 
Knowing it was futile, stupid, she just threw the flimsy projectile at the
creature.  Let it eat one more of her dad's arrows, before it ate her...

   The arrow burst into blue fire.  It's tumbling flight straightened.  As
Saw watched, unbelieving, the arrow struck the monster in the center of its
head, completely embedding itself.  The creature reared back, letting out a
horrible roar...  before collapsing in the center of the stream.  The
running water began turning red.

   ****

   Jack struggled to his feet.  He didn't think anything was broken, but
most of his body hurt, regardless.  Barely able to keep his grip on the
sword, he stumbled towards the others.

   Gary's body lay on the bank.  He was almost in two pieces.  Feeling
faint, Jack focused his eyes on the man's face.  The face of someone he
could, almost, have come to consider a father.  Would, so long as he had
memory, consider a friend.  Its weight finally too heavy, he just let his
sword drop.  Its tip embedded in the mud, a rock keeping it upright against
the mild current.

   Sam slowly walked towards them.  She was covered in blood, dazed. 
Moving to block her view, Jack took her in his arms.  She broke down crying
as soon as he touched her, face burying itself in his chest.

   "Jack, Jack, Jack..."

   Wendy and Polly were kneeling next to the body as well, grief pouring
out of them.  For the first time since they had met, Jack felt an emotion
other than hate for the dark skinned witch.  She was holding Gary's hand,
just chanting his name.  Her magic hadn't been able to save him.  Her
magic...

   A dreadful thought passed through his mind.  He looked down at Sam.  She
still wore Gary's spare quiver, a dozen or so arrows still in it. 
Tentatively, he raised up her shirt, slowly writing on her back.

   It took a moment for Sam to realize what he was doing.  He started over,
not wanting her to get this wrong, not wanting to be right.  Slowly, she
pushed herself away from him, eyes looking up in horror.

   "Oh...  oh, god, no...  NO!"

   Her head whirled.  Jack followed her gaze, to the the two women kneeling
by the body.  Stepping away, Sam grabbed the pommel of Jack's sword,
pulling it from the river bottom.  Her eyes were hard.

   "Wendy."

   That the witch's head jerked up, that anything was able to penetrate her
world of grief, spoke to the harshness of Sam's voice.  She looked up,
uncomprehending.  Sam pointed her sword at her.

   "Wendy.  That spell.  What, exactly, did it do?"

   The witch slowly stood, brow furrowing.

   "Which spell?"

   "The one to bring a large animal to Dad.  The one you used one of the
arrows at camp for.  Was there any chance that arrow WAS THE ONLY FUCKING
THING THAT COULD KILL IT?!?" She took a step, closing the distance.  "I
THREW a fucking arrow at the thing, and that killed it!  I suspect magic,
how about you?!"

   Polly was suddenly between them, shielding Wendy with her body.  Her
eyes were red, voice raw.

   "Kill her, and you kill Jack."

   "Oh, I won't kill her.  She has too many limbs, though.  And a tongue,
she doesn't need a tongue."

   Jack watched all this from the side.  He was with Sam, naturally, but
knew his limitations in this matter.  He would wait until there was an
opening...

   Pain exploded in his mind.  Pain...  and a command...

   ****

   Sam didn't see Jack move at first.  She was focused on her sister.  A
sister that loved Dad as much as she did, for all his faults.  A sister
that SHOULD want revenge!  Why was she protecting this WITCH?

   Jack was behind Polly now, next to Wendy.  Sam's eyes widened.  His
face...  it was contorted with pain, with fear, despair.  She looked at
Wendy.  The witch's eyes were desperate.  Her arm reached around Sam's
sister, her only family, grabbing the older girl's arm.  Polly's eyes
looked down in surprise as her arm was pulled back, a knife slicing into
it.

   "Uciec."

   They were gone.

   Gone.

   Sam fell to her knees, sword clattering agains the rocks.

   Jack.  Polly.  Gone.

   The witch.  Gone.

   Raising her head to the stars, she screamed.

   ****

   A lone horse entered the clearing.

   Heather reigned in the animal, eyes sweeping the campsite.  A simple
wagon, covered by an arching tarp, sat not fall from the trail back to the
road.  Two horses grazed nearby, un-staked but obviously trained not to
roam.  The fire pit was unlit.

   "Are we camping here?"

   Heather looked down at Cathy.  The girl sat before her in the saddle,
body sagging.  It had been a long day, the sun now just at the top of the
trees.  Soon, it would be dark enough to make setting up camp, as simple as
that was for them, difficult.  Her eyes took in the clearing again.

   "I don't know.  Someone is here, or was here..."

   A shape rose next to the wagon, Heather kicking herself for not seeing
them earlier.  It was a boy, young, dirty, with short black hair.  He had a
sword, which he used to help himself stand upright like a walking stick. 
His face...  it was not a friendly face.  Heather took a firm grip on the
reigns.

   "Want to leave, Miss?"

   "No," Cathy said, softly.  "Say hello."

   Well, if that's what her Mistress wanted.  Heather dismounted, right
hand first making sure young Cathy was secure on the horse, then slipping
down to the scabbard tied to the saddle.  She addressed the boy.

   "Hello, friend."

   She saw his eyes close, as if composing himself.  There...  there was
something odd about the boy.  She could not put her finger on it, though.
He was not as he seemed.  Neither was she, for that matter.  She had been,
at the start, just a buxom blonde serving maid to a duke's daughter. 
Now... now, she considered herself a knight, on a quest for her Mistress.
She had killed.  Would kill again.  Those who treated her lightly did so at
their own peril...

   "We mean you no harm, boy."

   His eyes opened.  They were hard.

   "I have heard that before."

   Heather blinked.  It was a girl.  She was sure of it.  Her hand slipped
off the scabbard, Cathy moving the horse forward a few steps.  Heather
looked up as her Mistress spoke.

   "We quest.  We are looking for the wife of a Wizard, traveling from
Reth. Have you seen them?"

   Surprise showed on the stranger's face.  They blinked.

   "Wife?"

   "Well," Heather said, "she bore his child.  We did not ask the exact
relationship.  We tracked her to here, but the trail ends."

   The sword fell to the ground.  The girl took a few steps forward, eyes
alight.

   "You tracked us?  How!  How did you do it?!?"

   Heather looked up at her Mistress.  Cathy nodded, eyes alive with hope.

   "A magic compass," Heather said, "pointing towards the object we bought
and paid for, which the woman still has.  Who are you?"

   The stranger straightened, seeming to transform.

   "I am Samantha, daughter of Gary, wife of Jack, sister to the Polly you
seek.  I will help you find her."

   **** ****

   This is the end of this story, but not the tale.  I have no schedule for
the next part, but it will appear...

   ****

   Edited by SciFi Nut

   Comments more than welcome.  invidfan@localnet.com
http://storiesonline.net/library/author.php?id=6389
/~Invid_Fan/