This is a new series, and my first series. This is a fictional fantasy series with roots relating to sexual activities performed by members of the same sex. It is not real in any way or aspect, but only from my imagination.
So, I must stress that if you are under-aged or restrained lawfully from reading material like this, I suggest you select the scarlet button in the top right corner of the window. Thank you.
May I firstly add that if explanations are needed, you must reread Chapter One, which explains what I feel must be explained. Any holes have been left purposely, and I will reveal all I wish to.
Now to continue the tale.
The darkness swelled. It danced across the walls, taking on beastly and monstrous forms. The darkness was all Marcus could see, if he was truly seeing. The little boy could only feel the cold. The cold of the rocked and cracked floor of the caves; the cold of the boulder he had been pinned against. Everything was cold, it seemed. The only thing reminding the boy that it was all real was the darkness. How it swiveled and swirled, the shapes it created. It seemed so unreal, but it was the only real element he could see.
Marcus tried to move, but his body was frozen in place. He seemed paralyzed, the one torture that brought no pain with it. He made a lame attempt at trying to stand, but it was far harder than he had anticipated. The boy tried his hardest to scream, to call out, and how much he wanted to, but his lips had frozen shut. His eyes blinked now and then, his body twitched often enough, but he was stuck.
And all the while, behind the boulder were the... things... forcing the shadows against the cave walls, the things that claimed him by dabbling in darkness. He could hear their voices, their accents and their movements. He could smell their presence, their dank and rotten presence. They were putrid, and smelled only of festering corpses and something he could not define. Metallic and dense, despicably dense. Blood, as red as fire and darker than darkness.
Their voices were the worst of it all. The numbness only numbed his body, his senses seemed stronger and more adept with themselves, and that only made the beasts seem more beastly. He could hear their hums and whispers, their rising and lowering voices. They were chanting words, foreign and magical words, croaks and groans and devious laughs. They all made Marcus feel slightly more afraid.
One of the voices was deep and manly, full of hate. Another was so high-pitched Marcus had trouble understanding it's words. Then there was the third voice - so striking, so unlike the other two. It was the voice of a human, a woman, strong and fluent in the common tongue. The others had mouths of malice and torture, but this woman had something else. Something deeper, far deeper. Controlling, manipulating, devious, yet anxious all the same. Her voice told Marcus so many things, while the other two simply spat horror and injustice right at him. A curious duo, an odd duo, but certainly a duo, thought Marcus. For all he could do at that point was think. It was either think, or listen. And he did not want to listen. What they were doing behind him was something obviously magical, and Marcus doubted it was the pure kind. He tried not to listen, but his attempts were miniscule. He had to listen, yet he did not want to.
What he wanted was Darius. But he could not have him. He could not find him, hear him, his shadow did not dance in the darkness with the others, and his smell did not linger. His smell. Marcus could smell it now, but only in his mind. Strawberries and grass. Darius always smelled so divine; Darius defined divinity. That smile, Marcus could see the dimples now. His charcoal hair, his deep and wise hazel eyes, his reddened ample lips, and his pearly teeth. Darius was truly angelic.
Marcus suddenly felt something move. His trousers. They seemed to be tightening once more. He suddenly felt ashamed, so ashamed. It was wrong; these thoughts were wrong. Unholy. A boy and a boy, it just does not happen in the Pass. Marcus knew it was forbidden, but that only made him all the more curious, powering his lust. Darius was forbidden fruit, yet that only made him seem more irresistable. Marcus felt such a thrill down there, he couldn't stop himself from thinking these things. He knew it was wrong, somewhere inside, but he couldn't care less. The thirteen year old was starting to understand his troublesome feelings for his best friend.
All the while, his mind drifted from the distant shadows flashing across the bare walls. They seemed to be growing smaller, coming closer to him. The three dubious things seemed to have stopped their horrific dance, their humming and creaking. The caves grew more silent by the second. They seemed to be turning from the fire, approaching the boy. The smaller their shadows, the further from the fire, and the closer they headed towards him.
It only took him moments to realise, but Marcus knew they were coming. Yet, all he could do was watch, and wait for his attackers to make an appearance.
All too soon, the shadows turned from behind the boulder, and took on their true forms, giving face and bodies to the shadows.
One was a stout man, bearded and grey. His voice rumbled, deep and dark. He must have been the manly voice. The man seemed gigantic, dressed in animal hides and brown leather jerkins. Marcus considered the man to have giant blood in his veins, but he knew giants were as dead as dragons, and all that remained were bones. Bones that people stole and disrespected, savaged and sold. Or played in, as he and Darius had done. Only, he had yet to see a giant skeleton.
Another spoke, the one with a squeaky voice. She was a woman, or so she seemed. She wad so thin she could have been blown off with the wind, if it gushed hard enough. Her attire was identical to the first: furs and leathers, frayed and worn and tatty.
He couldn't see much of their faces, but the woman in the middle of the others could only be the striking woman. From what Marcus could see, this woman seemed beautiful. Their faces were masked in the shadows, but their bodies were distinguishable. She did not wear brown and tatty furs like the others, she wore a body-tight black leather suit that covered every inch of her body below the neck. How provokative, thought Marcus.
All too suddenly, the three slowly lowered themselves, and their faces sprung with light. Marcus would have flinched, if he could move. He would have closed his eyes, but he couldn't. These were disgusting people. Well, two of them were, at least. The man, farthest on the left, he seemed the most damaged of all. His skin seemed a pale and sickly green, with his eyes rolling in his skull and his grey hair soaked in grease. His face was spluttered in marks and blemishes that seemed to move on their own. Positively vile.
Yet, the woman beside him looked normal. Her face had no marks, blemishes or wrinkles. In fact, her face seemed almost too perfect. Too beautiful. Like she hadn't aged at all.
But the third, the squeaky woman, she made Marcus's stomach roll the hardest. Her skin sagged, too, and she seemed cursed with only one eye and an empty socket. Her face was blanketed in freckles and moles, awful things that jumped out of her wrinkled skin. She was a troll; and so was the giant of a man. Yet, the middle woman, she was just a woman. Why would she trouble herself by travelling with trolls? They were soulless and demented, sagging so much they seemed to have no bones. From what Marcus was taught about them, they were chaotic creatures that grew uglier each time they used their brown and deformed type of weak magic. Witch magic was much stronger, probably the strongest now that dragons and giants no longer lived. But all Marcus saw were monsters. Untamed, defiled monsters travelling alongside beauty. Maybe they were once humane and morale, but that had clearly been carved out the uglier they became - but not the striking woman. She seemed perfect, the exact image of human perfection, if there was one. Why she would trouble herself with the presence of trolls was a mystery to Marcus.
"Undo the charm, Kryt," the woman spoke, her voice once again lavishing. Her scent hit him like a slap to the face. The others smelled bloody and foul, but she smelled so sweet and flowery, so alluring.
The squeaky troll-woman was who Marcus assumed to be Kryt. She bent over him and brought her face in close to him, so close he could smell her rotten breath and look into the empty gaping hole where her left eye ought to be. She whispered words, foreign words, and the numbness faded. Marcus could move, and speak, he could escape. But not easily.
"It's done, Varia," Kryt proclaimed to the beautiful woman, jumping joyously. Marcus saw a new mole shade onto her left cheek as she did. The curse of troll magic, brown magic, taking its toll.
"Boy..." spoke Varia, kneeling down further. Marcus could see her properly now. Her bright red hair was kissed by fire, and her ivory pale skin was glowing ominously in the fire-light. She was so strikingly beautiful. Could she be more perfect? She breathed on him, her breath minty and refreshing. Her smell was so thick, her black eyes seemed so kind. "I am Varia, and these two trolls are Kryt and Myrdok. What is your name?" The woman sat against the boulder beside him and rested her arm around him, ever so gently.
"M-Marcus," he stuttered, stunned by her cold touch around his back.
"And who might be your friend? The fighter." Her voice was so soft and gentle, so warm and kind, Marcus felt he could trust her. Yet she held him prisoner.
"He's Darius."
"Kill him now, Varia! Slit his throat and be done with it!" Myrdok spoke for the first time, his voice rumbling and echoing terribly throughout the dragon caves. Marcus never truly saw Myrdok's face, it was always blanketed in the shadows. But even then, he could sense his hatred.
"Myrdok, silence yourself, now!" Varia spat, her voice changing from heavenly to pure evil. "Ignore the half-giant, Marcus. Trolls have very little soul left the more they use their vile and brown form of magic. They call it magic, but the rest of us call it pathetic! Useless and pathetic."
"What are you going to do to me?" Marcus asked, nervous and frightened. So innocent, yet all he wanted was Darius. He wanted to be held by him, and he wasn't there. Where was he?!
"We'll let you go, but not before we finish our task," Varia announced solemnly, her eyes never leaving Marcus's face.
"What is your task?"
"Oh, Marcus, dear boy. I cannot tell you that. But you and your friend will not be harmed, I promise you this. Kryt, bring the other boy here," Varia spoke smoothly, holding his face in her hands as she did.
Marcus smiled. Darius was coming.
The beautiful woman smiled morosely back at him as Kryt skipped away. She must have been the most dazzling thing Marcus had ever layed eyes on, yet there was probably another person he thought surpassed her beauty.
Marcus's heart thumped harder against his chest the closer the shadow grew. Then there were two of them, slowly creeping toward him. He was ready to explode. He needed to see Darius, to look at him... To touch him?
Darius turned into sight and was kicked behind the boulder, held by the scruff of his neck, and thrown against the rock. Marcus sighed so heavily, his doubts had been wrong. Darius was fine, still perfect and unharmed. He finally saw his face, his charcoal hair and his red lips. He sighed so hard, feeling so reassured. Varia thanked the troll and greeted Darius kindly, yet he seemed troubled. Varia kept smiling.
But Darius looked more than troubled, deeply troubled. He hadn't cried, unlike Marcus, who couldn't hold in the tears. But Darius had been scared, terrified, even. He could see it there, somewhere in those wonderfully hazel eyes. He reached out to him and brought him in for an embrace. His warmth suddenly flooded Marcus, his strawberry and grass smell... that smell!... and his comforting manner. Just feeling that warmth, that smell, just knowing he was there, Marcus felt on fire.
Although Marcus could not see it, Varia brightened her smile at their embrace. She sensed something there. Something out of the ordinary; and certainly something she will not be telling her troll companions.
But then Darius whispered to him. So troubled, so afraid, his voice was quivering. He hadn't known such fear before, especially not in Darius.
"She's a witch," were his words. A warning. The words struck him like lightning. Marcus could not understand what it meant at first, but then it came to him. Kryt and Myrdok were only trolls with little, if any, power. Varia was not like them, she could not be weak. Witches were not weak. They were simply humans with power, unlimited power, the most powerful kind of magic since the destruction of dragons and giants. Witches were exactly who mankind was hiding from, why the village of Rocky Pass was so secluded. Marcus wasn't told too much about them, but he knew that they were dominating the Known World with their power. If Varia was one, it only meant trouble was brewing.
Marcus drew away from Darius but clasped his hand in fear. He tried to look at Varia, but knowing she was a witch sickened him beyond his comfort zone.
"We have come to this village for a reason, and we will not be leaving until the task is complete. We cannot risk you alerting the villagers, so we will release you once the job is done. For now, you will stay with us," the witch ordered, her lips red as blood and just as disgusting.
"Must they? Humans reek of fear and piss!" Myrdok screeched in complain.
"Need I warn you once more, Myrdok?! Silence your mouth or Kryt will remove your acid tongue!" Varia roared back at him, her voice more evil than before. Kryt laughed at the giant troll, swiping her knife in case he spoke again. "Boys, we will take care of you, I promise. As soon as our task is complete, you are free to leave, I promose."
Varia kneeled further in to him, face to face with Marcus, and began singing slightly.
"But you must promise me something, first," she asked smoothly. "Promise me, Marcus, promise me you will stay, that you will be no trouble?" she sang, her voice soft and luxurious, perfect and... and deadly.
"I promise," Marcus said, vaguely, lying.
Then she raised herself from the ground with grace, and stormed away behind the boulder in a flash of black leather clothing and fiery red hair. Her two cronies shadowed after her, taking their awful smell with them, leaving Marcus and Darius together at last.
As soon as their shadows grew larger, and were once again dancing in the darkness, Marcus felt safer. For a time, he watched them again. Their shadows were dancing, he could distinguish them now. It was some awful spell they were doing, something for their mysterious task.
He drew himself closer to Darius, feeling the warmth and smell, feeling him. He wrapped his arms around him and stayed there, still and nonspeaking. Darius felt just as scared, but still folded his arms over his friend, his little friend.
"What will they do?" Marcus asked suddenly, his voice masked by Darius's shirt as his face pressed against his chest.
"They won't let us go." His voice was hollow and empty.
"They will," Marcus opposed, but could not make any truth of it.
"They'll kill us. Trolls are heartless, and witches are... worse. Never thought I'd see anything magical in the Pass, other than these old skeletons. They're evil, dwarf... they're evil."
"But... we can escape," Marcus started, not knowing how to end the sentence.
"How?"
Marcus didn't know, he couldn't say. Darius had seen behind the boulder, not Marcus. What lay beyond the darkness, where the three danced was a mystery to him. But he knew they had to escape, or they'd be stuck. But maybe they would let them go, after they were done. Varia promised. Yet Marcus always thought too high of people. Darius knew the truth of it, and maybe Marcus did too. Maybe he was in denial. Neither knew exactly why the duo were hiding in Mount Skull, why a powerful witch would surround herself with weak trolls, why they danced so vilely, why they were kept prisoners in their own village. They wanted answers, but knew fine well that they wouldn't be getting any from the trolls. They had everything taken out, and were left rotten and empty, with brown power coursing their veins. Varia, however, was a witch. She still had her emotions. There was still hope.
Darius began stroking Marcus's hair, his touch soft and gentle. Marcus could tell he had already given up.
"I... whatever happens, Darius... I love you," Marcus stuttered, unsure of himself. Or his feelings, his dark feelings. Marcus couldn't help them, he couldn't comprehend them, really. All he knew was that Darius had been there, his friend, his best friend. Yet, Marcus could feel something else. An attraction. More. All he wanted was to see what Darius was feeling, but that wasn't possible. For him.
"What?" Darius asked, surprised and conflicted.
"I... I love you," he repeated. Maybe he meant as a friend, as someone close to him; maybe he meant as the brother he never had. Maybe something further. He couldn't tell, the words just poured from his mouth as he faced the fact that he probably wouldn't survive.
Darius placed his hands on Marcus's cheeks and pulled his face away from his chest. His look was shocked, teary-eyed and surprised.
But Marcus won't look into those eyes. He turned his gaze off to the graying and rocky walls of the cave, with flourishing shadows dancing there, singing, casting some kind of spell. But in the corner of his eyes, Darius still stared. It took a while, but Marcus finally plucked the courage, and turned his head to face his friend, to face those loving hazel eyes...
He said nothing.
Closes the Enchanter's Storybook, abruptly That was The Enchanter's Storybook: Chapter Two. No peaking at Chapter Three, I'll know if you try. Thanks for reading. Donate to Nifty. Places Storybook onto a higher bookshelf, amongst the other magical and enchanting tales kept up there with the dust and cobwebs
Have an enchanting day, my dears. Love,
the Enchanter.