Waking Dreams: Chapter 4 - Clover & Licorice

The dusky summer air was full of the scent of woodsmoke, alive with the ripe hues of ceder and maple intermixed with just a hint of cinnamon, burnt sugar, alive with a proliferation or anise, lavender, honeysuckle, catnip, rose hips, blackberries and drunk on the deeper shades of raspberry brandy, strawberry wine, and honeyed mead.  Two boys had found it entertaining to animate a pair of cookie soldiers and force them to fight to the death over the campfire before the victor was rewarded with a near drowning in chocolate and a swift crunch between its master's teeth.  A couple lounged in the afterglow on the dirt, idly tracing fingers over each other in small arcane gestures soliciting gasps, moans, and giggles as each one activated with a brief burst of light and illuminated their small corner of darkness near the warmth of the fire while the noisy throws of drunken debauchery echoed out another tent on the opposite side of the camp.  The woodsmoke did little to cover the acrid stink of sex heavy in the air from that group of pale-skinned apes and when one of the males wandered out of the tent to relieve himself in the bushes one of the females followed him, bottle in hand, rinsed his cock off with it's contents then dropped to her knees to take him into her mouth.  When they woke in the morning sore, exhausted and hung over they might reconsider tampering with the forces of nature that stretch the body to such a limit of human endurance, but Dog doubted it.

Ever since he had bonded Master the others had taken it as a sign that all of the stories of the evils inherent in magic were complete nonsense.  The kids had quested further into the Library by the twos and threes until they had found a vault they dubbed The Archives.  It was in that dark place that the mysteries of Tantric Magic had been found, and boys being what they are wouldn't leave damn well enough alone.  They'd moved their camp even deeper into the woods before they'd started practicing it to reduce the chances of someone from the village stumbling across them even further.  It was one thing to piddle around with forces better left untouched, but the village elders would have someone flayed and their hide tanned for a blanket if they knew they were practicing forbidden magics of sex and body that were locked deeply away in the vault of a library full of magics, like some dark and terrible secret.  So far they'd only bothered to master the wines, incenses, oils, and other charms used to inflame and heighten arousal or pleasure which was a blessing of sorts wrapped in a curse.  Tantric Magic by definition drew it's power from sexual energy, which is why it had so many avenues to generate that energy with but every night with their focus so single minded it seemed to intensify even further, though Master seemed indifferent to it despite the tendrils of magic snaking through the camp and striking out at unsuspecting victims. 

The clover & licorice girl always left as they were getting started, as did a few of the others, to give the magic some time to dissipate and blood time to cool before returning to sleep, but something was different tonight.  The last sliver of the moon had gone black, leaving just the stars above to light the dark of the woods in an ocean of black and charcoal, but he could still see the dance of her passage, written with clover and licorice on the wind and moss, kissing a branch here and a leaf there.  Master had fallen asleep and wouldn't miss him until morning, Dog convinced himself as he bounded after the clover & licorice girl.  This was the scent of the girl who had breathed life back into him and once his Master understood he'd abandon his plaything and take the clover & licorice girl.  It seemed like there was fire in the air as he hunted after her movements, each more wild than the one before in some frenzied dance.  He paused at each piece of clothing she'd discarded and drank deeply of her scent before he stopped, catching something different on the wind.  He darted over brook and under bough after her, ignoring the musk of deer and rabbit that lesser mutts would have happily bounded after.  The wind had shifted and her scent was laced with fear.


It wasn't a bad dream, to run to the rescue of one of the pretty little girls who lived in their camp and pretended to understand how magic worked.  He'd had simmilar dreams before, following girls after dark and watching what they did when they thought no one was looking, sneaking up to them and cuddling against them.  In the throws of the new magic one of them had even tried to lure him with the taste of peanut-butter.  She had gotten considerably more than she'd intended, but seemed satisfied enough when he was through with her.  Each dream was the same, colors washed away the aroma of the world heightened beyond a full bouquet, and fleeting when the day returned as dreams tend to be.  This was the first time that- MASTER.  Jimm's eyes snapped open as his mind sharply closed itself to its invader as his heart thumped violently in his chest, a trapped crow seeking freedom.  What a strange - MASTER!

 He sat up and shook his head to clear it a bit.  The thin blanket fell off of him and framed Serra next to him.  She was a vision of lust with her wild mane hair and supple nipples dark against bare breasts, lit as she was by the light drifting into the tent from the campfire.  Still sleeping she reached down and wrapped her fingers wrapped around his manhood as he tried to rise, holding him fast.  He sighed sweetly as she brought him to her mouth and let himself drift, to check on the damn mutt.  He wasn't in camp?  Further then... MASTER! Awareness flooded him, the girl, the path, the terror, a glimpse of something inhuman.  He tore Serra off of him and gathered mana in his fist, his mind reciting the words faster than lips could possibly follow and he ran naked out into the camp, plunging his fist into the flames, as he pulled his hand away he took a handful of the embers with him and left the campfire flickering silver and blue.  Soulfire.  Alarmfire.  Questions were being asked, but he couldn't hear them.  She was running from it.  It was chasing toward them.  It had already eaten her and was following her trail.  He didn't know.  The Soulfire would give the others a link to follow him.  He'd slow it down and hope that help was sober enough to be of use.

The darkness swallowed him and he relaxed his eyes to the familiar charcoal gray and black of his dreams.  He nearly flew as he followed his memories through the woods toward the beast, moving like an animal through the trees and over the stream.  Fire erupted across his chest as he felt a rib snap.  He missed his next grip and careened into a tree.  The world went fuzzy and for a moment he caught another glimpse of it.  His skin prickled and the Soulfire dimmed for a moment as his determination wavered.  She had curled tiglty into a ball at the edge of a clearing and was bleeding badly through her fingers where they clutched the back of one of her thighs.  It had been playing with her when Dog had fallen upon them and now it was playing with Dog... But... But it was close.


Dog smiled up at the monstrosity, an evil thing made of claws and teeth and coils and so many eyes.  He could feel his Master approaching.  The chimera laughed, a gutteral inhuman thing that reverberated deep within the bones as it scooped up Dog and brought him toward its gaping mouth.  And Dog replied in Jimm's voice, "Per patris ossa montibus."  The chimera froze, mouth gaping open and eyes wide, fixated on Dog or twisted to look as closely at him as possible as he continued, "Eradicetur ad terram.  Chains erupted from the earth, formed from the mind of the caster and given shape and purpose by the words recited.  They swam over around and through the Chimera, piercing bone and flesh as they bound it to the ground.  As Jimm stepped into the clearing he and Dog spoke with one voice, "In patrios cineres, fiam animum incenderunt."


The chimera twisted against its bonds, writhing, but it refused to burn.  Dog had fallen exhausted against Elise as soon as the chimera had released him and now that she wasn't quite so afraid that it was going to devour her on the spot she had taken one hand to cover her breasts and was fixated on the hand covering her thigh while she chanted something under her breath faster than Jimm could follow.  He wrenched his eyes away from her and tried to form the image in his mind again, the hungry inferno that could devour this monstrosity and erase it from existence while the chains still held it.

"In patrios cineres, fiam animum incenderunt."  An eye blackened.

"In patrios cineres, fiam animum incenderunt."  Smoke escaped from its maw, trickling through its teeth.

"In patrios cineres, fiam animum incenderunt."  Moss wilted around it.

"In patrios cineres, fiam animum incenderunt.  In patrios cineres, fiam animum incenderunt. In patrios cineres, fiam animum incenderunt."  An eye turned a blistered white, fur singed, the beast bellowed in rage and metal screamed as it tried to break free of its chains again.

"In patrios cineres, fiam animum incenderunt."   A second voice joined in and a scattering of eyes blackened as fur singed.  From the corner of his eye Jimm saw Venn standing next to him eyes too focused on the monstrosity before them and lips quirked in a smirk.

"In patrios cineres, fiam animum incenderunt."  The chant continued, four now instead of one.  Then seven.  Then seventeen.  Then more.  Some slurred slightly and some groped each other, though none could say if it was from fear or arousal, but everyone agreed this monster needed to burn.   

And so it did.

Waking Dreams: Chapter 3 - A Sea of Starlight

The last whispers of leaves rustling and crunching gently together had already faded and though the day had been hot, at least it was dry unlike some of the less fortunate summers spent in youthful exile. The baleful yellow eye staring hatefully upon the gathered friends and lovers had long fled, leaving the kind of warm darkness under the boughs of the trees that envelopes you like velvet, caressing with every passing step and carpeting the world in silence so absolute that you don't just hear the deep thump of your own heart beating but the splashing blood coursing through you as well, like a child playing in a puddle but somehow deeper.  An endless black well leading into the gentle oblivion of exhaustion where the waking mind wanders, flirting with the subconscious in a gentle seduction and, as you dip your toes into it, you feel the deep undercurrents pulling at you down into the inky starlight reflected upon the rippled waters.

The wood itself stretched away from the small encampment with a predatory grace.  Trees both thick and slender towered beyond the firelight, the bare earth quickly devoured by a thick green fur creeping along both wood and stone, while coarse briars of flowers, berries, thorns, and saw-edged leaves.  The trails well worn through the wild still crawled with roots and moss, and if a bramble had dared creep into the path the end of it was often cracked or broken completely by the flight of some beast.  It was down one of these quiet, empty trails that a young girl danced, her eyes alight with all of the cold blue fire of the stars above as they peeked through leaf and bough and her hair caressing the wind like countless silk ribbons stained a deep red with the juice of blackberries.

Each step she took was light and full footed, neither running away nor running toward somewhere. Her body bare, gently embraced by a cloak of the living night, the youthful confidence that comes with knowing that the young can never die, and a faint scent of clover and licorice from her loose chestnut hair as it played around her neck and ears, tickling her gently with each twist in the wind.  It was chestnut wasn't it? It had seemed to very red just moments before.

Her delicate feet found a stream-bed, soft smooth rocks, damp thick moss, and countless footprints of those lesser creatures that had preceded her majestic flight through the woods, thought they'd not have guessed it.  The forest itself coming more awake with every step, deeper and deeper into the darkness where the stars burned brighter and now cricket and cicadas triumphantly announced her arrival to the rustling approval of the leaves above her before they parted abruptly.  A deep, dark mirror of the sky rippled gently in the pool beyond the edge of the treeline and as she gazed down into it she knew yesterday was dust and tomorrow would never be. There was only this moment, shattered and broken like her reflection in the still waters as the beast rose dripping from the depths.

There were reasons why her friends had all agreed to leave society and vacation in the deep wild.  They'd long ago found a forgotten library of magic tomes, and times being what they were the Arts were considered dark forces best left untouched by simpleminded Gods-fearing folk like their parents.  There were dark fairy-stories told about little children who went poking around wizards and witches and warlocks.  They all ended the same way, with that little boy cursed, or that little girl transformed and threatened daily with the oven and a fine coat of olive oil to help make her outsides crackle.  After they'd found the Library they'd realized what nonsense it was.  There were no murderous wizards baking little children in ovens.  There were no alchemists playing god and making monsters.  There weren't.  The chimera begged to differ.

She had mistaken its head for a moss covered rock before it began to move, the green so deep it was nearly black under the light of the stars.  It opened a single eye, slightly off center of the top of its head as it eased out of the deep toward her, its maw curling back into something resembling a grin and full of needle-like teeth each the length a full grown man's hand.  Another eye opened, and then another as it slid up and out toward Elsie, its grin pulling back even further, teeth protruding, as the eyes continued to blossom like open sores all over its head and across its neck and shoulders.  Half crawling and half dragging it hoisted itself above her, matted fur dripping wet from the the waters.

Transfixed, she stood still as a stone while her heart quaked and her lip trembled.  The creature reached out with it's claw while it held itself out of the water with the other three, unwinding coils from the darkness to snake through the shoreline, and stroked her nipple gently with the back of its nail, raising gooseflesh all over her body and tightening a chill within her deeper than any fear she had ever known, then it whispered, "Run, tasty little sweetling," and she did.  It's laugh was a guttural inhuman thing manufactured deep within its throat and oozing out through it's teeth down into her bones without ever truly reaching her ears.

It was still laughing when it began crashing through the forest after her.

Waking Dreams: Chapter 2 - Nightmares and Dreamscapes

Tired blue-gray eyes blink in the stillness.  Darkness is illuminated by explosions of color as a myriad of roses in sapphire, amethyst, and shades of sunset explode along the walls and floor.  Water falls like a river from the pond to northwest flowing in a stream to the southeast, before snaking its way across the ground to run along the steps that lead down into the labyrinth of greens, blues, and violets. 

The roses hedge in twisting pathways that lead down and away as a girl follows the moss-slick cobblestones.  Massive trees reach toward the open skies above him, streaking past intricate bridges of masonry that feel as though they've been folded back inside themselves.  The stones themselves creak under the weight of something half seen as it lashes against firmly bedded chains. Something small scampers across the ceiling before vanishing  behind a hedge as it runs toward the wall.  Shaking her head, Elise stumbles forward a few steps before a crisp crunch whispers up to her.

Encroaching on the moss-strewn bricks, the flowery heads of clovers peer up at her from further down the path, away from the nearby bridge and the stream.  She pauses at the crossroads, considering, when a gentle breeze carries the scent of honey to him and his feet begin moving of their own accord.  The ebbing water fades into the distance and as he moves deeper into the green arms of the labyrinth, her perfume chokes his breath away.

Crunching and snapping, needles spring toward her and bite deeply onto her arm.  She stares at the strange creature as it coalesces into a clawing, tugging drake.  Her arm shines silver as the drake's claws scramble uselessly seeking purchase on her flesh.  Her free hand moves toward the creature's eyes as she mutters something quickly under his breath.  Leaves and nettles blacken, smoldering under her touch, but refuse to catch fire.  The drake whips around, throwing Elsie to the ground before its bunches into itself, ready to spring.

She stares at her arm in half recognition.  "Moonsblood?" she whispers as the drake launches toward her.  She falls away from its grasping claws before finding her knees and standing.  A wave of vertigo washes over her as she looks down the side of the walls she's standing on toward the drake.  She backs away as the drake hisses and her foot comes out from under her on the leaf-covered path.  Bending down on her knee and staring the beast in the face she knows that she needs a weapon to defend herself with.  Her fingers grasp around something cold and the drake springs, bounding up the wall toward her.

The drake's head parts from it's body and it explodes, a pile of leaves nettles left unattended on a late fall afternoon.  As the wilting cloud settles against the wall, a silver bladed katana glitters in her hands. Entranced, Elise doesn't see the wilt spreading through the clover and moss or the bushes beginning to blacken.  Chains rattle and a snap echoes through the air.  Looking toward the source of the noise Elise's eyes grow wide.  The chimera's chains hang limp and empty.


Elise bolts upright in her sleeping roll.  The light from the early morning filters into her tent and her face outlined in a halo of deep red fire that quickly darkens to chestnut.  She's panting, staring at her arm.  The dream had felt so real, but it was just another dream.  There had been such power.  Such freedom.  She sighs softly as the dream begins to slip through the fingers of her waking mind.  Tonight, I'll taste a different freedom.  Smiling, she rose to start her day. 

She knew the coming night was for her and the stars above alone.

Waking Dreams: Chapter 1 - Bound in Blood

Chapter 1 - Bound in Blood

While you or I might find it strange to cough out dirt and blood, it wasn’t the first thing on Jimm's.  The first thing on his mind was an angry boy with a complexion as dark as his temper towering above him and kicking him violently in the ribs.  Things two through seven in no particular order and varied degrees of desperation were: Please, don’t let me pass out; fuck, that hurt; I think I’m going to piss myself; Venn is such an asshole; did Serra see that wince; I’m so glad I turned down that ale; and damn it.. 

That’s odd.  Why am I coughing out dirt and blood was thought eight and was immediately followed by his ninth thought, which he said out loud, “I’m going to fucking kill you if you kick me one more time Venn.”

Venn flinched as if he'd been struck and turned to look over at Jimm.  When he saw the blood dribbling out of Jimm's mouth all of the was fury forgotten, his face bloodless and nearly bone white against his black hair, at  before he stammered out, “I ain’t been kicking you Jimm, I was just kickin’ da mutt’s whelp…”

Jimm stood a solid five feet eleven inches tall and Venn towered above him in much the same way an oak might tower over a pond, but this was the first time the boys had ever spoken to quite like this.  In fact it was the first time the two of them had spoken to each other since Venn had walked in on his little sister Serra straddling Jimm in the barn that morning back at town.  It was also the first time that Jimm’s eye had ever blacked itself without anyone touching him or his lip had spit open without a fist to assist it.  “Blood magic,” Serra exhaled, eyes wide in rapt fascination.  Her heart beat even faster than when her brother Venn had walked in on their performance earlier that day, drawn as inexorably toward the forbidden as a moth to any flame.  The girls in the group had been hanging back, not wanting to see what the boys were going to do to the pup they had found.  It was an excellent vantage point to see exactly how Jimm had taken the alleged beating so far and injuries blossoming out of thin air.  A number of them had already turned away from the scene and started back toward camp.

“Quite right,” Jimm muttered, glowering at Venn, “I’m sorry you had to find out you know what you know how, but I swear if you keep me bound to that mutt while you beat it I’ll fucking kill you.”


The exchange sounded playful enough but the air around the two boys was charged with something otherworldly.  Jimm’s beating heart was tied to that miserable dog through his friend’s animosity, barely controlled rage fueling a link between two fleshes and transmuting all of Venn’s fury at it’s real source. 


“But- but Jimm,” Venn muttered, fear overpowering the hatred that had consumed him earlier, “I- I don’t know how I did it.”

It had been nearly seven weeks since they'd stumbled into the abandon, burned out old library.  They'd taken dares on who could run in the furthest, grab a book from the rubble, and get back out when one of them had emerged with Histories de Magicis.  Venn had taken the Mayor's daughter Tandy for a tumble in the barnyard afterward and convinced her to steal her father's latin dictionary.  After that it hadn't taken long to gather the attention of half of the kids in town.  They'd only had one bad scare when half a wall had collapsed while some stupid kid was messing around but in the end they'd found two dozen books that had rubbish fairy stories in them and half a dozen more books of real, honest magic.  Everyone had found a spell or two that they could work in one of the books and Venn's favorite had been Ligatum et in Sanguinem from a roped off section labeled "Restringitur" but this was the first time he'd done anything with it that Jimm had known about.  If he had done anything.

Over the last few weeks there had been mishaps that needed covering up before the adults found out what they were doing out in the woods.  All of the boys and girls in the field and in the nearby camp had grown close these last two months, learning and playing games of magic.  The silence that followed Venn's confession spread from the field toward the camp and their friends came streaming through the tall grasses, whispering to each other in hushed voices.  One of the girls, Elsie, tapped on the side of her glasses and muttered "Conspectu esse vera," as Tandy jumped to Venn's defense, stepping between the two boys before she let out a voice that was a little more than a squeak, "Venn wouldn't never- I mean he wouldn't ever-" 

Elsie cut off Tandy squeaking stuttering defense with a rather girlish squeal as she fell back onto the ground.  She’d had a stronger talent in examining magic than working much of it it herself but there were moments that everyone wondered if she'd been staring into the void a bit longer than healthy.

“Of course Venn can’t break the link,” Elsie laughed as she dusted off her dress before standing up, “It’s your familiar after all!”

“Well he bloody better break the link before that mutt dies,” Jimm replied sourly, “If he doesn’t let it go I’ll-“ 

Jimm stopped suddenly as something clicked, words sliding into place like a puzzle block falling into an open space in his brain. “The fuck do you mean it’s my familiar?”

As Elsie dove into her explanation of the complex mechanics for forming a bond with an animal, the factors that enhanced that bond, and the myriad of ways that the bond could impact both parties, histories and mythologies, Jimm realized he was fucked.  His breathing was already becoming shallow and he could feel broken ribs scratching at bits inside of his chest.  Terror mirrored across two beating hearts as Elsie explained that when a link was established even an unconscious empathy supported by the proper magics could form a bridge when once hadn’t already existed.  Had he felt bad when Venn started in on the pup? Of course he had.  He knew who Venn really wanted to kick in.  All of this was exactly what-

Turning, Jimm placed his breakfast as far away from Serra as possible and he was only mildly upset that he hadn’t had the foresight to aim closer to Venn’s fucking boots.  He dropped to his knees and coughed out a red-black liquid, his mouth tasting strongly of iron or copper, he couldn’t quite place it.  Around him shapes moved in the darkness while the sun beat down overhead, a single point of blinding brightness in a world of gray. 

A gray haze is a terrible thing to use for telling time, so he had no idea how much time had passed when he began to stir. A taste of honey filled his mouth, filled his entire chest with warmth, magic thick on the air.  Hungry lips pressed against his, sucking greedily as if they might swallow his soul out through his throat.  The smell of clover and licorice filled his nose as he took a breath and he smiled, reached up to grab the soft, firm flesh of the shape on top of him and hold her close.  Small, powerful hands held off the advances of his too short arms and oddly inarticulate hands.  At his insistence one of those powerful hands parted his lip against the sharp fangs in his mouth.   

 “Eh uck wahz hat tor?” he muttered as he opened his eyes.  He was in some kind of tent and Elsie fumed above him.  She spat a mouthful of blood across his muzzle before she stormed off.  As he scratched himself behind ear in confusion, he heard her call out from around a nearby campfire, “the fucking dog’s awake, how's Jimm doing?”

To call one so bonded super human might not be a stretch, but for the first few weeks it was apparent that humans have their limitations for good reasons.  When you’re young you might recall those days when you would spin and spin until the world spun around you when you stopped, some internal compass knocked outward in both directions to leave you unable to cope with maltreatment of our body's sense of self location, a bodily system designed to make human beings superior to automatons like the golems of old.  It was always incredible fun, until you threw up your breakfast or broke your ankle.  Sometimes it’s still fun after that, particularly if you learn to cope with the sensations that wash over you as you bring yourself back to center. 

As he woke, Jimm felt through two sets of conflicting senses that the world had stopped spinning and he had been left trying to find his feet. The process was much more brutal than any of the books they had gathered suggested it would be, though it seemed to have more to do with the kind of binding than the bond itself.  It was not unusual for a master to link minds with a familiar so that commands or suggestions could be nudged into the other’s mind or a call of warning could reach the master’s thoughts.  Even using a familiar as a conduit for magic, a protector of sorts against the surges of backlash and a battery or generator for magical energies, wasn’t unheard of, but no true master would merge his flesh with that of a beast.  That was stuff for druids and savages.

He was stuck fighting an odd sense of bio-location as he saw with two sets of eyes, heard with two sets of ears.  His nerves were the pups nerves, the pup’s muscles his own.  Thoughts didn’t travel but rather mingled and when he moved sometimes the wrong body moved instead of the right one.  He had to relearn how to walk, how to talk, how to shut his mind away from his new companion.  It was easier when the mutt was asleep and he was tempted more than once to just start drugging him, but Serra was too amused by the little tricks he was learning to work to go through with it and the power it was giving him.  He could feel it growing inside of him like a living thing, wild and free.

A week and a half after the accident, in the deepest darkness of early morning he could smell the dew on the grass and through his nose almost see the shape of the wind that had carried the grasses pollens about that evening.  And as he looked at the tapestry the wind painted he saw a silhouette in clover and licorice break through it. The moon had waxed a span ago, leaving a crescent sliver of white against a backdrop of diamonds and darkness.  Through the grasses and woody groves the girl’s shadow beckoned and danced the woods alive with countless mysteries.  Beside the clover and licorice girl’s foot a rabbit had crossed just the afternoon before, falling in step before and after her on the trail she took were the musk of deer, birds everywhere and nowhere caught and scattered by the flow of the wind through the boughs above in patterns too complex for his nose to follow.  His feet moved ever further onward, carrying him closer his clover and licorice girl.  As he neared he heard a small sob and grew still before creeping out and pouncing on its source.  Elsie smiled up at him.

"You stupid mutt, always coming after me when I'm running off to be by myself," she scolded gently as she scratched behind his ear, her bare body bathing in the waning moonlight and her clothes a pillowed against her.