THE WIZARD OF WITCHES’ WOOD
by
Joseph E. Swift
THE WITCHES’ GIFT
According to the story, it
all happened to a poet from our town,
Ulysses MacCool, his name.
(Some say he was the great, great
nephew of old Finn himself,
though that's as maybe)
No longer young, he was, but not yet wise.
His beard was shot with grey,
though his eyes still twinkled
with a certain devilment.
He found himself ship-wrecked upon the coast
and wandered long, a sole survivor,
clad in rags, in a magic wood.
He heard the howl of wolves
and sprinted for his very life,
until he heard their panting
close behind him,
felt their hot breath on his heels.
He turned to face his fate, one white,
one black, and heard
a dulcet woman's voice that said,
"Gryphon, Florian, hold now.
Let's not devour the handsome stranger,
not quite yet."
And he saw a maiden fair.
All golden-haired she was,
and dressed in furs.
He was familiar with her race, for she
was Hyperborean, from the land
beyond the north wind's home.
Good witches. Mostly. So they say.
At her command the wolves
stood still, although MacCool
was not precisely thrilled
by the hungry way they looked him
up and down. He fainted, then,
with the exhaustion of his long ordeal,
and vaguely knew that he was leaning
on her shoulder as she half-carried him
through the wood. Or was he flying?
The wolves trotted behind, obedient,
though now and then they licked his hand,
just for a taste.
He slept, and woke in furs,
as naked as could be,
in a deep, dark cave.
The Hyperborean maid
was naked too, wrapped up in furs
and wolves, and watching him
--an admiring stare--across the firelight.
He heard the clink of jewellery, and saw
another woman, this one dark,
with raven hair. A witch-woman,
clearly, from the Southern Isles.
Strange figures on her body
seemed to move, as if alive,
her eyes were deep and brown,
and there was blood red in her hair.
She wore only jewellery, and chains,
and a leather collar like a slave,
though she bore herself
with dignity and grace.
As she knelt beside him in the furs
and raised his curly head
to lift a goblet to his lips,
he felt her warmth against him,
raging like a fever,
felt her long soft hair cascade
over his naked body.
At a nod from Wolf Maid,
Dark One lay beside him in the furs
to keep him warm, purring
and rubbing like a cat.
This had a powerful effect upon him,
and the poet found himself
aroused as he had never been before.
The Dark Witch served him well,
moaning with pleasure,
as the Wolf Maid watched.
She never touched the man, Herself,
for every traveller knows
that forest folk like her
are dedicated to the Moon’s Great Goddess
and their eternal maidenhood,
for their magic power's sake.
Yet she watched with growing pleasure,
eyes flickering
like embers, and in the end
she crawled toward him
through the furs,
(The wolves raised up their heads,
and snarled their disapproval)
and she kissed MacCool upon the lips.
He felt her teeth bite down
and she drew blood,
just as the Dark Witch
drank his life's elixir
in another, and more pleasant way.
And then the witches kissed,
mixing McCool's elixirs on their lips.
And a power seemed to flow
into the poet's limbs. No more half-dead
from fear and injury,
as if in dream,
he passed the night in pleasures,
his lips and fingers exploring
the witches' bodies
like a blind man's reading,
and it seemed to him, at last,
that he no longer knew where he
and witch, and wolf, and forest
ended or began.
He slept, then, drained and exhausted,
soft in the furs before the fire,
in a great warm pile of wolves and witches.
When he awoke, it was mid-day,
and he found himself upon the beach again.
He spied a sail and waved.
The captain who rescued him,
told of a wind that rose
from nowhere, blew his ship
upon that very spot, as if by some dark art.
As for MacCool, he knew it must be so,
for from that day to this,
his verse was touched with magic,
of a kind that makes young ladies swoon,
the gift of witches in the night.
THE DRAGON-WHISPERER
From time to time, the Master Wizard
called upon his student witches
for assistance with
particularly thorny tasks.
The sun-haired Hyperborean maid
was skilled with beasts from many years
of running with the wolves
and had the power to read the mind
of wolf, or owl, or any creature,
see through its eyes and hear its thoughts.
The Wizard knew that he could call
upon K'rin (that was her name)
for any task involving any beast
within his realm.
The ravens in the tower alerted him
and he gazed out to see K'rin emerging
from the wood, at stride. Her long cloak flowed
about her legs as if caressing them.
A pair of wolves--one black, one white--
were trotting dutifully behind.
She saw him on the parapet and waved.
Her warm smile made his old heart
leap with joy.
They sat at table as things elvish and invisible
prepared a meal. K'rin could see them briefly,
only from the corner of her eye,
for when she looked directly at them,
they would vanish from her sight.
"Your birds came to summon me,"
the young witch said,
"and so I came as quickly as I could,
for my dear Master's sake."
She placed her hand upon his own.
"There is a dragon
laying waste the countryside,"
the Wizard told her. "If we cannot
capture the poor beast and hide him safely
in your wood, where no one treads
without your leave, I fear the villagers
will seek a champion to slay him."
"I'd thought the dragons were extinct."
"As did I, myself. And it may be
that this young dragon is the last
of his proud breed."
When the horses in the stable
saw the wolves and smelled them
on the witch's cloak, they reared
and pranced in consternation,
their eyes wide and rolling.
With the touch of K'rin's hand upon them
and her gentle words, they soon grew calm
and they no longer feared.
The pair set out toward the East
upon the Wizard's princely steed,
the young witch clinging to his waist
behind him, and the wolves
dog-trotting at the horse's heels.
At night the Wizard's magicks
set a fire, the wolves went hunting,
and the travellers feasted.
"Florian, Gryphon, stay!" she said.
The wolf-pair snarled their protest but obeyed.
The cave yawned black and smoke caressed
their ankles, as they slipped
inside the dragon's lair. The bones
of prey, among them sheep and cattle,
crunched under foot, the Wizard happy
that no human bones were evident.
The Wizard entered first, his staff raised up
before them and his hand stretched out
in protection of K'rin. And suddenly, the creature
rose out of the gloom and towered over them.
The dragon's bellow echoed through
the cavern's depths. A blast of fire
enveloped them, but most of its fierce heat
was swallowed by the Master’s staff.
The witch could plainly see, however,
that the Wizard's strength was drained,
and in the stifling heat, she dropped her cloak
and stepped forward, nearly naked,
as the dragon towered over her.
The dragon looked into the depths
(as green as forest) of the witch's eyes
and suddenly became subdued.
He lowered his great head and licked
her hands and let her stroke his brow.
In her mind's eye, she saw the dragon's life
as if it were her own:
his mother's death at Village hands
a century before, his struggle to mature
and grow without her ancient wisdom.
Unskilled in avoiding human eyes,
driven by hunger to attack the flocks,
he'd spent his days in lonely vigil
in the cavern's depths.
A tear rolled down the witch's cheek
and the dragon's great horned head
caressed her breast.
The Wizard watched her go,
wolves trotting at her heels,
the dragon circling in the sky above.
She kept the creature in her cave,
upon a rock ledge just above her bed,
where she lay naked with her wolves
upon a pile of furs.
The dragon rumbled like a furnace in his sleep,
his breath keeping the cave
as warm as any roaring fire.
Sometimes the Wizard would appear
in K'rin's dreams.
TEACHER'S PET
Of all the seedy shops in Estuary's Magic Lane,
the Rat Emporium was known to be the worst.
The moment that the Master entered,
the proprietor could see his client
was a wielder of great power, and he smiled.
"What brings a great White Wizard to this
darkest part of town, where black arts thrive?"
The Master looked about him, scowling at the sight
of elves and faeries, caged and offered up
for sale. "I understand," he said, "you have
an item of some special interest in your cellar."
The shopkeeper thought: even the
whitest wizard has his weaknesses.
"Indeed, Sir," the proprietor oozed.
"If you will please accompany me..."
He took a torch and led the Master
to a cave beneath the shop, where flickering light
revealed a clouded panther pacing
in a cage. The creature's golden eyes
were burning with intelligence and bestial rage;
its white fangs bared in snarl
as they approached.
"There is a powerful enchantment here,"
the Master said. "The blackest sort of magic."
He bent closer to the cage, examining
the collar on the poor beast's tawny throat
--a human collar from the Southern Slave Isles.
When the panther hurled itself into the bars,
the Master waved his hand, and the
fierce creature stopped in mid-attack
and looked about in calm perplexity.
"I'll not presume," the magic-monger said,
rubbing his hands, "to tell the most-wise Master
of the nature of this beast, or of the dangers
that its purchase may entail. We can, of course,
offer no liability." "I understand,"
the Master said. "That is but one of many reasons
why this trade's forbidden in the realm."
"Indeed, Sir," the shopkeeper said,
an oily grin upon his face.
And so it was, the Master's gypsy
wagon took the road home to his Keep,
the panther in a cage within. All night
they journeyed northward on the River Road,
and with the first rays of the morning sun
upon the mountain peaks, they halted by a stream
to rest the horses, and the Master climbed
into the van. The panther paced, excited now,
and as the Master watched, it slowly changed
its form. Still sleek and dark,
and fiercely beautiful, it took the shape of
a young woman, draped in long black hair,
her naked body covered in tattoos.
"You must be powerful," the Wizard said.
"For it was your own witch's power,
turned upon you, that allowed this black
enchantment to take hold."
The young witch only growled and bared her teeth.
"I see there is much work ahead," the Master sighed,
"and many levels of enchantment to reverse.
Firstly, a self-protection spell to stop you
from attacking me in either human or
were-panther form; another spell to keep
you from escaping; and a spell restoring human
speech and thought. And, finally, a major spell
returning your shape-shifting power
to your own self-control."
All day, the Master studied, poring over ancient books,
until he dozed, exhausted. In his sleep,
he dreamed of the young witch, her body glowing
in the firelight of his own hearth.
Her tattooed flesh gleaming with sweat,
she knelt upon all fours before him,
on the furs strewn on the cold stone floor.
Her Master, young and strong once more,
bent over her and bit her neck,
as she purred sensuously and growled
in pleasure, clawing at the furs.
He woke and rubbed his eyes,
and saw the young witch peering out at him
quizzically within her cage.
"Yes, powerful indeed," he said.
Upon returning home to Wizard's Keep,
the Master went to work with spells and potions,
keeping the fierce creature chained, at first,
within the Keep's great hall, where,
cat or witch, she slept upon the furs
beside the hearth, eyes gleaming in the firelight.
When he retired each night, exhausted,
he could hear her whimpering like a kitten
in the great, cold hall. The protective spell
complete, he moved her to the tower, and chained
her to the foot of his great bed, where, cat or witch,
she slept, purring with pleasure, at his feet.
When the escape-proof spell was finished,
he unlocked her chains, but she would not
allow him to remove her collar.
Every night, exhausted from his study,
he retired to bed with the great cat asleep
upon his feet, and woke to morning sunlight
with a beautiful young woman snuggling
in his arms, beneath the covers.
Finally, her human mind and voice restored,
she said, "My name is Joh-An-Yi. I was
one of the greatest witches in the Southern Isles.
My enemies did this to me and sold me
into slavery--by night a ravenous beast,
by day a mindless slave to passion."
"I shall release you from your thrall,"
the Master said. But Joh-An-Yi continued
happily to serve him. Even after her full powers'
restoration, she remained some time
within the Keep--by day his most adoring pupil,
studying at her Master's feet; by night,
the equally adoring slave-companion of his bed--
though human, still a ravenous beast
THE SUCCUBUS
The Wizard was accustomed to
the villagers approaching, hat in hand.
The Innkeeper appeared that day
outside the castle walls, the ravens
warning of his near approach.
The castle doors swung open,
seeming of their own accord,
and the man crept, fearfully, into the hall.
The Wizard, cloaked in grey, came down
the stairs and greeted him; he seemed
to glow with power and the poor man trembled.
"Master," he said, "I am the Keeper
of the Inn at Long Last, on the Chester Road."
"I know the place," the Wizard said.
"A blazing fire, good food and wine,
and bedding relatively free from vermin,
where a traveller might spend the night
and cross the Witches' Wood by day."
"There is a demon, Sir, or something like,
infesting our poor inn and all the nearby moors.
We've always dealt with elven folk
--spoiled milk and other tricks
a minor thing in view of our proximity
to Witches' Wood—-but this new creature
is a thing that manifests in women's' dreams.
It gives them Hellish visions,
and they wake in horror at an unclean touch.
My wife has gone, my kitchen-maids as well,
and lady travellers, few as they are,
avoid the place. Their men-folk take them
by the Ford and River Road across the valley."
"A succubus," the Wizard said,
and stroked his beard. "Good Man, fear not,
I shall do what is in my power."
The Innkeep bowed his thanks and left;
the Wizard called his winged
messengers down from the tower.
At the inn, the next night,
The door blew open and the candles flickered
in the blast of wind and rain, as lightning
etched the sky. The Innkeeper's glance
revealed to him the muffled, darkened
figures at the door. He rushed to help them
with their cloaks and stopped to stare.
Two women stood there, companied by dogs.
One figure tossed the hood
of her bright scarlet cloak, and golden hair
came tumbling down like sunlight on a leaf.
The other woman kept her hood up,
yet the Innkeeper could see her hair
was black as night. He heard the jingle
of gold jewellery as she moved with sensuous grace,
like a jungle cat. They sat at table
and he brought them meat and mead, the dogs
reclining at their feet, and it was not until
the animals looked up at him with yellow
eyes ablaze he knew them to be wolves.
"These two are witches," he said to himself,
"Sent here by Master Wizard,"
and he served them warily, though smiling.
"A cold night, and a dark one," he said.
"A road that's fraught with danger."
"We do not fear the forest," said
the golden one. "My name's K'rin,
and this is Joh-An-Yi." The other woman
tossed her cloak now and the Innkeeper gazed
with fear upon her barbarous aspect.
Her body was tattooed with mystic signs,
her hair streaked with a red that seemed
to burn like flame, and yet her dark eyes
glittered in a smile that made him flush
with embarrassment as his loins stirred.
The Innkeeper's fat old cat approached
the pair as if he had been summoned.
The wolves snarled an insult, yet
he walked right by their noses and leaped
upon the table. The dark witch petted him,
with the jingle of a dozen bracelets on her wrist.
"That is The Bear," the Innkeep said, and made
as if to shoo the cat away, but Joh-An-Yi
transfixed him with a glance. "His real name
is Moo-Khi," she said, "Stalker of Elves
in the ancient tongue, and it is he who keeps
your stables and your garden free
of gnomes and pixies, not the charms hung
on the gate outside, which lost
their power ages past and need to be renewed."
The meal completed, and the wolves fed
with a titbit or a few dropped from the table,
though they still eyed the fat Innkeeper
with disconcerting frankness, the witches
climbed the stairs and retired to their room.
The bed was brass, and creaked; the wind
came whistling through the door; beneath the
counterpane, they snuggled in each other's arms,
and slept. The wolves sat up and pricked their ears,
and growled. The candle guttered,
and a thing like shadow slid across the floor.
The witches' spirits watched as if from just
beneath the ceiling, as the shadow slid
onto the bed and crept toward their sleeping forms.
And suddenly, Joh-An-Yi found herself in Hell,
surrounded by deep gloom and deafened by
the shrieks of tortured souls.
She struggled in the foul embrace
of some goat-headed demon, reeking
of an ancient evil, death, and monstrous sin.
Her spirit hovered, powerless, and watched
her sleeping body writhe in fear,
her eyelids flutter in the struggle
to awaken from the nightmare.
And then she saw K'rin tossing her golden
mane in the self-same struggle,
as she too was possessed, her mind sucked
screaming down into the void.
K'rin found herself alone and naked, shivering
in a thick, impenetrable mist, heard screams
of tortures somewhere in the distance.
There came a slithering sound, as of some
monstrous serpent's progress, and a shadow
rose before her in the gloom. Her heart leaped
when she recognized her Joh-An-Yi,
until she saw the creature's cold, reptilian eyes,
and noticed to her horror that its lower body
ended in a pair of serpent's tails.
The creature seized her in its coarse
reptilian hands; a wave
of nausea and disgust washed over her,
yet mixed somehow with an unbidden pleasure,
as she lay back, helpless, in its grip.
The Innkeeper was awakened by the
desperate howling of the wolves. Despite
his fear, he leaped out of his bed and padded
down the hallway in his nightshirt, as
the walls about him seemed to move as if alive;
he heard the distant sound of screams and saw
a Hellish glow pour forth beneath the door
of the two witches' room. He burst in through
the door and saw the women struggling,
naked and magnificent, within the grasp
of the most foul, repulsive creature he
had ever seen. It had the torso of a human being,
female above and male below, but its great head
was goat-like and its lower limbs were
coiling serpents. It turned to blink at him
with nictitating eyes, then turned away,
ignoring him as harmless. The demon spread
its arms and both the witches,
eyes still closed in sleep, and seemingly unable
to resist, accepted its most foul embrace.
The wolves, snarling with rage and fierce
frustration, seemed unable to defend their mistress,
as if paralyzed, or frozen by the icy mist.
The Innkeeper, with unaccustomed courage,
rushed into the room to seize the creature,
and it threw back its great horned head and laughed,
a sound as deep and chilling as the pit of Hell.
It rippled in his grasp, like a reflection
on a still pond's surface, and his hands passed
through its insubstantial body.
As the ripples spread throughout the room,
the Innkeeper looked down to see that he
could look straight through himself. As one
might see a swimming trout through one's own face
reflected in a fish-pond, he could see
another form inside his own, as if in hiding there:
a long grey beard, a wizard's robes, a pair
of arms that reached out toward the witches.
As the right hand closed upon the left hand
of K'rin and held it tight, the left hand
grasped the right of Joh-An-Yi, and the women,
still asleep, reached down and took
each other's free hands in their own.
The Innkeeper felt a surge of power
flowing through his body, saw the Master's
withered arms grow strong and muscled,
and the demon, startled, found himself held tight,
encircled in a powerful embrace.
There was a howl of rage that seemed to come
from deep within the Earth;
the creature took a quick
succession of intimidating shapes
--a great black bear, a roaring lion,
and a monstrous dragon, breathing fire.
And yet the three held tight. The demon
shifted shape into a blazing fire, a waterspout,
a bolt of lightning, yet they held their grip.
The howl of rage became a scream of fear.
Their minds were bombarded with
the foulest images of monstrous crimes,
of rapes and tortures, brutal murders,
and great massacres of innocents
from every century past. And yet they held.
The creature's screams of fear became
a shriek of agony, as love of wizard
and of witches for each other
pierced its black heart like a blade, and lastly,
with a long-drawn cry of sad regret and
awful loneliness, the demon faded and became
a tiny wisp of smoke that dissipated in the air.
The icy mist, the Hellish fires,
the screams of tortured souls were gone.
The Master's arms enfolded his beloved students
in a tight embrace, and they awoke from sleep
as his grey image faded into nothingness.
The Innkeeper found himself in one of his own
guest-rooms, dressed in nightclothes, with
two naked women in his arms. He stepped back
in shock, the wolves grumbled a warning,
and the witches led him, quietly befuddled,
back to his own room. "You will awaken
and forget this dream," K'rin said,
as she tucked him in. "The demon has been
exorcised and will not trouble you again."
"And you may send a message
for your wife's return" said Joh-An-Yi,
making a sign over his bed, "for this will be
a house of happiness and pleasure for yourself
and guests, forevermore."
The Master reclined upon his divan
in the Keep's great hall, before the fire.
Joh-An-Yi lay beside him, sleeping,
with her head upon his lap.
He stroked her sleek hair, and she purred
like some great tawny cat.
K'rin sat at his feet, upon the furs,
with both her wolves asleep beside her,
and she and her Master stared
into the fire, in thoughtful silence.
The flames danced like tormented souls.
"You used us as bait," she said.
"I'm sorry," said the Master.
THE HIGH PRIESTESS
K'rin waited on the parapet of Master Wizard's
Keep and watched the cloud-filled skies;
her wolf-companions growled and paced
in worry that reflected her own thoughts.
The air was crisp and cold, with snowflakes
swirling in the breeze from out of Witches' Wood,
and K'rin shivered in her cloak, her golden mane
aflutter like a flag atop the windswept tower.
She spied a shape descending from the southern
mountains, and soon recognized her dragon.
With a gentle flapping of its iridescent wings
it settled on the parapet, and she reached up
to seize its reins. The dragon nuzzled her
as its lone rider slid down from the saddle.
The High Priestess of Estuary
patted the great beast's warm flanks
and the young witch embraced her.
She was a woman of mature years,
judging by the grey hair, though her body
remained young and supple, and there burned in
her blue eyes the wisdom of the ages.
They wrapped their cloaks about their scant-clad
bodies as they turned from the parapet
and stepped into the warm and firelit
Great Hall (behind them, the young dragon
blew a puff of smoke over his own near-frozen
wings and wrapped them round his body).
"I have never known such cold here,
in the Master's realm," the young witch sighed.
"Do you not know," the High Priestess said,
"that it's the Wizard's power keeps
perpetual summer in this place? If not
for him, the continent from your own Hyperborea
to the Southern Isles would soon be deep
in snow most of the year. The ice here,
in this valley, would be fathoms thick.
I fear it's all too much for him."
They saw the Wizard coming toward them
in the Great Hall, leaning on the shoulder
of young Joh-An-Yi. The student witch was
draped in golden ornaments, and the black mass
of her long hair contrasted sharply with the
parchment-paleness of the Master's ancient locks.
His hand upon his staff of power was palsied,
and his body stooped as if in agony.
He stumbled on the flagstones,
and the Priestess felt her heart sink
as she rushed to help support him.
Then she turned and barked out orders
to the servant imps, who ran to fetch
the herbs and simples she demanded.
"You can see the Master's servants?"
Joh-An-Yi asked in surprise, as she could
only glimpse them from the corner of her eye.
"They're my creation," the High Priestess said.
"A gift for my dear Master, many years ago."
Assisting the High Priestess at her spells,
the witches learned much of her craft,
and slowly came to understand how deathless was
the love of Priestess and Magician.
Once, some ages past, he'd been a poet and a
revolutionary in the Southern Empire, but soon
found himself in exile in the Northern
Provinces when that most terrible and prolonged
war broke out that nearly toppled
the great civilization waging it.
He spent some years as an apprentice shaman
for the Sun and Wolf and Raven Tribes,
traversing the Great Northern Steppes
each year from Smoking Springs to Estuary,
following the Lizard King's vast herds.
He crossed the Boreal Sea aboard a trade ship named
Foam Rider with an albino captain named White Shadow,
and served a term as galley slave in the
notorious Austral Fleet. As the High Priestess
spoke, and fragrant mists of potions
wafted through the Great Hall, as the
fire crackled, and the healing spell took hold,
it seemed to the young witches that the
Master's life passed like a dream before them:
trackless deserts under hurtling moons
where grey-robed figures lived in warrens
underneath the sand; great cities carved
into the ice, where plague-struck
people hid from monstrous death-machines;
city towers rising from the sea, their
gleaming spires draped with
vines and overgrown with jungle foliage;
dreadnaught ships with billowing sails
that moved through cloud-filled skies;
vast armies of the dead that marched
through shadowed landscapes, battling
golden angels from a blood-red sky.
They knew, as well, of the great love
between the Priestess and their Master--many
lifetimes long, so powerful that even separated
by vast seas and mountains, they could hear
each other's thoughts, and feel the calling
of each other's hearts for leagues across the realm.
When they awoke, the Master stood before them,
radiant and strong, no longer leaning on his staff
as one infirm and bent with age.
"It is your love, my Priestess, gives me strength,
restores my mind; the charms and potions
were but symbols of that power." He spread his
now-strong arms and lovingly embraced his dear
young witches and his life-long love.
The dragon spread his wings, enjoying the warm
sunlight on the parapet; the High Priestess swung
into the saddle and flew off into a sky as blue
as her all-seeing eyes, as a sad and grateful
Master Wizard watched her go. K'rin and Joh-An-Yi
descended from the tower and set out toward their
once more green, resplendent Witches' Wood,
the wolves dog-trotting happily behind them.
THE DRAGON-HUNTERS
For centuries, the evil wizards of the Capital
had sought the precious jewels,
dripping with potent magicks,
that resided in the bodies
of the ancient race of Draco.
From their darksome realm
they sent the dragon-hunters out
into the farthest corners of the world,
and with the bravery of greed
they ventured into darkest wood
and, with the blackest magic,
found and slaughtered dragons
till no more than one or two
remained. And now the word had spread
that one last dragon dwelt
within the Witches’ Wood.
Thus did it pass one day, the dragon-hunters
came into the Master's Realm.
Hidden by magicks from the eyes
of witch and wizard as they entered
Witches' Wood, they found their quarry
at the door of K'rin's cave
and soon came to regret their find,
for at the moment that their hiding spell
was lifted, she bombarded them with spells
that left them wand’ring in the Wood,
bereft of all their senses, and it's said
that most of them were eaten by the wolves.
The Master, alerted by one young apprentice,
saw in his scryer's crystal that another ship
of dragon-hunters soon would land upon the coast,
and it was clear that many more would follow,
for a dragon's blood and dragons' teeth
and dragon scales, now rare, were still sought
after by black marketeers in all the major
cities in the South. And to protect
the last young dragon, the great beast
would have to be transported far
into the Western Province.
K'rin could not imagine the creature
alone in those deep woods without
his saviour witch to keep him
safely hidden with her spells.
And so it came to pass that K'rin
left her Master's Realm forever.
Alone, casting a spell that hid her tracks,
wolves trotting at her horse's heels.
K'rin forded the Witches' River
and she crossed into the deep woods
of the Western Province,
her beloved dragon winging overhead.
At her behest, clouds gathered in blue skies
to hide its gleaming form from prying eyes.
In later years, the farmers and the villagers
recalled that this day wrought a change
within the Master's Realm.
It seemed the warm sun
had departed with the golden witch
and what had been perpetual summer
now was gone. The nights were cold
and Winter came again each year.
The youngsters scoffed at this and said
their elders were simply nostalgic.
Winter comes each year, they said,
and yet the oldest men and women
seemed to remember summers
that refused to end.
Poor Joh-An-Yi was saddened
and her once great lust for life
appeared to be diminished.
Witches' Wood no longer rang
with bird-call and with frog-song
and the warm sun no longer dappled
the soft forest floor; the dark witch
wandered in a snow-draped mirkwood
filled with the ungainly goblins
and hag-witches which had not,
till then, dared show their ugly faces.
Happy within her tree-filled, sunlit glade,
deep in the Western Province,
K’rin saw in visions Master’s Keep
in snowfall, and remembered fondly
the great fire within the Master’s Hall.
Wise in the ways of nature, K’rin knew
the Master’s power had only postponed Winter;
When the season’s course was run
and balance had returned,
the Master’s realm would once again
become a place of sunlit beauty.
Joh-An-Yi, however, and the Master knew
That Witches’ Wood and Wizard’s Hill
Would never be as joyous
And as lovely as it once had been.
THE MASTER'S GIFT
The Master had a scryer's crystal sphere, attuned
to all within his realm that held, for him,
a special meaning—-any use of magic or demonic power,
places of significance, like crossroads, and of course
some individuals with whom he felt a special bond.
Chief among the latter was his young apprentice
Joh-An-Yi, and it is thus he happened to espy
the young witch walking down the road to Witches' Wood,
accompanied by a young knight errant on
a handsome black Arabian. The steed was prancing
nervously, but with a touch the young witch
calmed the beast; the rider looked at her with
admiration. In the crystal, this knight's heart
glowed with his courage and his goodness.
Like champions before him, he had sought her
permission and a promise of safe passage through
The Wood. And yet the Master saw much more than this
--a spark that glowed in each young breast.
Always, he had believed that centuries of life
would still such heartache as he felt that day,
which pierced him like a blade, but now
he knew that neither length of days nor wizard's powers
could still the pangs of simple human sadness.
Joh-An-Yi glanced upward at the dark clouds gathering
in the skies and wondered at their suddenness.
The breezes fondled her black hair, and chilled
the knight deep in his heart. His steed
reared up in sudden fear. And then, as quickly
as they formed, the clouds were gone. The witch's senses
told her magic was afoot but could not trace the source.
It was of little consequence, she thought, for her
beloved Master had already seized control
and sent the darksome forces packing.
The Master's sandaled footsteps echoed in the corridors
as he descended the stone stairs of Wizard's Keep.
The imps and gnomes ducked out of sight, familiar
with his moods, and knowing of the power that lay there
in the dungeons far below. The Castle and the Master
were the same, and each had darkness in its heart.
It was important that the people of the Master's Realm
should never know of this dark place, for their belief
in their own Master's goodness was the basis of his power.
They feared him, to be sure, just as they feared
the wrath of witches or the trickery of elves,
but their belief in his desire to aid and protect them
was more powerful still, and if they knew that even
whitest wizards had the same black monsters gnawing
at their hearts as they themselves did, they would
turn against him. If truth be told,
the only creature in the Realm who knew
the Master's darkest heart was Joh-An-Yi herself.
A shadowy figure crumpled in the dungeon’s corner like a pile
of rags, as jet black as the wizard's cloak was white,
glanced up as the great door flew open, and
its eyes glowed red with foul desires, for it could sense
the Master's tortured spirit. The dark thing smiled
a mirthless grin and slowly rose to match his height.
"So! Now you've need of me!" it croaked.
"I need your power added to my own," the Master said,
"for only thus can I re-shape the keen mind
of a witch without detection." And an icy fog rose from
the earth and swirled about the towers of Wizard's Keep.
The memory was sharp as yesterday's: a clouded cat
caged and enchanted by dark mages from the South,
transformed each dawn into the form of this young
woman, black-haired and wild-eyed, her flesh marked
with tattoos of ancient power; the beast-woman chained
within the Keep's great hall, and later in the Master's
chamber as he wrought the spells to free her from
enchantment, and his wakening one morn to find
the woman sleeping, unchained, beside him in the bed.
But was it memory? Or was it simply some night's lonely
fantasy? Or nothing but the fading fragment of a dream?
And then, one day, the Wizard and his own High Priestess
of the Realm-—half-drunk with fumes from potions
they were teaching Joh-An-Yi the art of preparation—
falling to the fur-strewn floor and schooling her in arts
she was as keen to learn as magic. This, he felt surely
was no memory, only a hopeless fantasy. One last glimpse
of their faces, bending over him, and this too was gone.
And then one night K'rin and Joh-An-Yi, witches of light
and dark, of day and night, of sunlight and the storm:
K'rin sat at his feet before the fire, and Joh-An-Yi
lay sleeping by his side. There was a memory—-
or just a dream-—of both young witches in the Master's arms.
K'rin held back in fear of losing her witch-maiden's powers,
but Joh-An-Yi was hungry for his flesh. One final
kiss between them, and this dream was gone as well.
At last there came a memory as dear as any in the Master's
long, eventful life. As he sat in his chair, brooding
upon the fire, he looked up and saw Joh-An-Yi
in a slip of some diaphanous silk, bare-legged
and barefoot, holding her old slave-collar in her hands.
Shyly, she stood before him, eyes glinting cat-like
in the firelight, and fastened it about her throat.
The delicacy of her burning lips transformed
the Master's ancient body into young, firm flesh again,
as real as any sensual experience of his life, and then
the memory faded like the tatters of a dream.
The Master raised his staff. Its crystal blazed
with piercing light. The Shadow slunk away into the corner
of the dungeon and the Master turned and left.
The door slammed shut and locked behind him
with the firm finality of a chapter's end.
He paused upon the stairway, momentarily lost
and puzzled by a single tear that ran upon
his withered cheek, but found no reason why he should
be weeping, so he shrugged and climbed into the light.
Jo-An-Yi awoke, her body warm and dewed
with perspiration. Tiny fragments of some dream
were flitting through her mind, like bats departing
Witches' Wood at dusk, but though she tried
with all her power to grasp them, they were gone.
She turned toward her young knight, sleeping
peacefully beside her in her treetop bower.