To more fully enjoy this story in living, breathing HTML, please visit our website at: /~vivian Now offering over 140,000 words of pure prurience! -------------------------------------------------------- Sangrelysia by Vivian Darkbloom In Which We Journey To The Lake Of The Virgin "Do you believe in destiny?" asked the Princess, as we methodically marched along our appointed path to reach the Lake of the Virgin. Along the faint, overgrown forest trail I followed my spry young princess, as she trod with backpack and staff, clad in undersize shorts and oversize hiking boots. With so miniscule a bottom, it was difficult to believe she could find a pair of hot-pants that were actually too short, but my clever young lass had managed to succeed in doing just that. And now with each step, her dear sweet divine behind pumped alternating with intoxicating rhythm that lulled my imagination with images of rhythmic activity of a different kind, fueled by the sweet smell of her exertion and the bright clarity of her perfect smooth skin as she faced the frontier. "Destiny?" I mumbled absently. "You know, how when you're reading a book, you can always skip to the last page to see if you like the ending." "If you like to spoil surprises." "But in real life -- what seems real, anyway -- it's like God designed us facing backwards. We can only see in the direction we came from. Wouldn't it make more sense to be able to see in the direction we're going? I mean, do animals have eyes in their butts? Or in their heads?" "Both past and future are realms of possibilities," I offered, my eyes remorselessly glued to her butt. "So?" "The past exists as a myriad of different paths to where we are now, yet we see it as only one." "So?" "Perhaps we do see the future more clearly, because we recognize that it's subject to change according to our decisions." We walked along the rock-and-tree-root-strewn path through the trees in silence for awhile as she pondered. "Nah," she said finally. "You're just messing with my head." "Try to go very far back in time, and you'll discover the practicality of what I'm saying." At that moment, we came around a bend to a clearing, where the foliage around us fell back to reveal a breathtaking view of an enormous forested valley, and beyond that a series of tree-covered ridges receding like frozen ocean waves off into the distance, as the hint of the morning mist lingered like an aura of expectation, fading into the dark blue sky above. Overhead a hawk soared, lazily circling. Sylvia gazed up at it. "Do you think I could convince it to take an interest in. . ." she glanced back at the two large black crows that seemed to be following behind us, from a distance. I chuckled. "I suppose. They're a bit big, but it wouldn't hurt to loudly mention the possibility so they can hear." She picked up a stone, muttered a little incantation, then hurled it back in the direction of our unwanted audience. The rock flew astonishingly far, clipping one of the startled birds' wing as it flew up with a squawk. I laughed again, arousing consternation in my partner. "Doesn't it bug you?" she demanded. "They've got to be spies." "If they weren't so clumsy and foolish, it might bug me. But so long as they're here, they're not conveying information to Elwrong." "How can you be sure?" she complained. "What if they slip away at night to inform the others?" "Them?" I laughed. "They're afraid to lose sight of us, because if they do, they'll never find their way back." "How do you know?" "Look babe, if you let it get to you, they've already accomplished half of what they set out to do." She shifted her pack to one side. While the enormous bulk and mass of the million things we carried had been mostly neutralized by compression and levitation spells, I found it was best to leave some weight in it, about the heft of two or three books, so one would be aware of carrying it, thus less inclined to leave it behind somewhere. "Water?" I suggested. "Could I have some of yours? I think mine is underneath the tent." "And the harp?" "Well, yeah." I sighed gently, offering her my canteen. "What I don't get," she said between gulps, "is how come Elwrong can do magic in the first place anyway." Gulp. "I thought you said in order to do magic," gulp gulp, "You had to purify your mind first." "Hey, hey! No backwash into my canteen." "I'm not!" "Better not, or you'll get to taste the realm of pure evil." "No, it's only the backwash." I glared. "Just kidding. So anyway, how come? And how did there get to be a dimension of pure evil anyway?" I gazed at the hawk circling. I guess I was lost in thought for awhile. "Hello? How am I supposed to learn, unless you answer my questions?" "Of course," I mused aloud. "That's the key." "What? What key?" "See, there are only two ways in which one can engage in magic, while the mind contains harmful intent. There's the tantric method, where one gains sufficient positive karma that one can commit deeds of grave immorality without incurring consequences. Killing a murderer in order to save the lives of others, for instance. One must have cultivated an extremely focused intent of pure virtue over many lifetimes, first." "Ok, so we can scratch that possibility. What's the other?" "To cast a spell that neutralizes the consequences of impure thoughts. The power of such a spell would have to be based in the dimension of pure evil, meaning a connection with that dimension must be maintained at all times for it to work." "So. . . if we break the spell?" "Precisely. By severing the connection." "And how did this dimension of annoying yuckiness get there in the first place?" "The primeval swirl," I replied. "The what?" "The universe, when it was first incarnated, was like a smooth plane beneath the heavenly sun, the source of all light. Metaphorically speaking, of course. The smooth plane was featureless and flat, all equally lit by virtue and goodness. "Then the urge arose to escape monotony. Individuality and character acted to cause a swirl in the landscape. Rising up to create mountains and valleys, the swirl cast shadows of chaos, creating a contrast between darkness and light, between evil and good." "Can't we just get to the part where it all dissolves back into the light again? I'm about ready to be finished with all the dorky evilness." She hurled another stone back at our followers, this time connecting with a satisfying thud and a storm of inky black feathers. "Ah, the petulance of youth." "I'll pet your lance!" "Promise?" She smiled, walking over to lean her flat chest against mine, inadvertently pressing the protection amulet dangling from a thong around her neck into my sternum. "Ouch!" I exclaimed. "Sorry," she apologized, moving it aside and thrusting her sweet young chest against me once more. "Of course I promise," she said. She looked up at me, irresistibly tight little lips hanging slightly open in a most tantalizing hint of a nascent kiss. I leaned down to give it birth, to give berth to her tongue inside my mouth, to harbor intents to be carried out in a tent later on that evening, intensely carried away by camp emotions. Somewhat breathlessly, we continued our hike and philosophical discourse. "The problem with pure bad," I said, "is that it includes being bad at being bad, which all collapses on itself eventually." "Not like being good at being good." "Or being good at being naughty. . ." Chapter 21 _______________________________________________________ For more stories, please visit our site: /~vivian