breath.
"I call you, she who last gave this body breath, she who last gave this body life. I whisper for you in the darkness, and you are drawn. Sleep no more and come and do me the service I have chosen you for."
He muttered some more words under his breath, and rotted flesh and bones began to knit and heal, grave dirt cracked away. He didn't bother to fix her clothes. He struggled, trying to get the hair color correct, but instead of the bright, vibrant red he remembered it stayed a dead, straight dark garnet. Her skin also refused to quite cooperate, but became fine and cool as blue-tinted porcelain, hairless and perfect. He studied her for a moment, her beautiful face, her sensuous figure. He bent over and kissed her.
"Breathe,” he said.
Her eyes opened. They were green-gold, and they glowed. She obeyed his command, taking a deep breath as she sat up.
"There is so little magic left in the world,” he said, caressing her face. Her expression was as distant as the bottom of the sea. “You have to find a well of it, a place where the ley lines haven't completely dried up. To assume all the magic left with Merlin would be a mistake, any more than to assume that the people in the magic world don't even have matches. There's overlapping, as in everything. You just have to look for it.” He stood, and helped her up out of the grave. “Tark, meet Rita."
The woman blinked, her features, stiff from disuse, showed confusion. “Rita?"
Tark looked worried. Sabin said, with just a hint of bravado, “Don't worry. She's just confused, that's all."
He grabbed some clothes out of a bag and handed them to her. A pair of panties she'd once left behind after an afternoon of sex, washed, of course. A black mini-skirt her sister had bought that had somehow ended up among his things. A tank-top from his own wardrobe. She put them on with golem-like movements.
"She is magnificent,” Tark said. He had watched her dress with more than a little interest.
"Hands off,” Sabin said. “She has a purpose to serve, don't you, my pet?"
She looked at him, her eyes and face without a spark of life in them. He put his hands on her rib cage and pulled her close. Her face just an inch away from his, he whispered, “Lead us."
"What about the ... uh.” Tark said, pointing at the grave.
"I've hired someone to take care of it,” Sabin said easily, and a pair of Terfa came out of the shadows. Tark had thought they were just short trees. He gulped.
She gave one nod and pulled away. She leapt over her open grave and kept going. They gathered their things and followed her as she cut across lawns and roads, making as straight a line as possible. They stopped a few hours before morning, because Sabin knew they wouldn't find another hotel before dawn.
"Can't we take a car?” Tark panted as he threw himself on the bed.
"No,” Sabin said, “that's not how things are done. You know better."
Rita chose a corner of the room and slid down the wall into it, her knees up to her chin. If she took her eyes off either of her captors, Sabin never knew; his dreams were colored by the green glow of her eyes.
* * * *
They walked for two nights, sleeping during the days, as Sabin hated sunlight, and reached the entrance to a cave hidden deep in the forest. It was a creepy, out-of-the-way place, and hard enough to get to that most casual hikers or hunters would never bother.
Rita went in first. She stopped in front of a seal, her eyes glowing brightly, illuminating the carved stone. Tark brushed dirt and thick dust webs off the surface with his hands, then turned and nodded at Sabin. She had led them to the right place.
Sabin came up behind her and placed his hands over her temples. Now for the second part of the spell he had placed on her eyes.
"No one knows where the soul of Carsisus walks, but I declare to you now that you are that great sorceress. Already you have led us to the place only she knew about. Think back, think back a hundred years, a
"I call you, she who last gave this body breath, she who last gave this body life. I whisper for you in the darkness, and you are drawn. Sleep no more and come and do me the service I have chosen you for."
He muttered some more words under his breath, and rotted flesh and bones began to knit and heal, grave dirt cracked away. He didn't bother to fix her clothes. He struggled, trying to get the hair color correct, but instead of the bright, vibrant red he remembered it stayed a dead, straight dark garnet. Her skin also refused to quite cooperate, but became fine and cool as blue-tinted porcelain, hairless and perfect. He studied her for a moment, her beautiful face, her sensuous figure. He bent over and kissed her.
"Breathe,” he said.
Her eyes opened. They were green-gold, and they glowed. She obeyed his command, taking a deep breath as she sat up.
"There is so little magic left in the world,” he said, caressing her face. Her expression was as distant as the bottom of the sea. “You have to find a well of it, a place where the ley lines haven't completely dried up. To assume all the magic left with Merlin would be a mistake, any more than to assume that the people in the magic world don't even have matches. There's overlapping, as in everything. You just have to look for it.” He stood, and helped her up out of the grave. “Tark, meet Rita."
The woman blinked, her features, stiff from disuse, showed confusion. “Rita?"
Tark looked worried. Sabin said, with just a hint of bravado, “Don't worry. She's just confused, that's all."
He grabbed some clothes out of a bag and handed them to her. A pair of panties she'd once left behind after an afternoon of sex, washed, of course. A black mini-skirt her sister had bought that had somehow ended up among his things. A tank-top from his own wardrobe. She put them on with golem-like movements.
"She is magnificent,” Tark said. He had watched her dress with more than a little interest.
"Hands off,” Sabin said. “She has a purpose to serve, don't you, my pet?"
She looked at him, her eyes and face without a spark of life in them. He put his hands on her rib cage and pulled her close. Her face just an inch away from his, he whispered, “Lead us."
"What about the ... uh.” Tark said, pointing at the grave.
"I've hired someone to take care of it,” Sabin said easily, and a pair of Terfa came out of the shadows. Tark had thought they were just short trees. He gulped.
She gave one nod and pulled away. She leapt over her open grave and kept going. They gathered their things and followed her as she cut across lawns and roads, making as straight a line as possible. They stopped a few hours before morning, because Sabin knew they wouldn't find another hotel before dawn.
"Can't we take a car?” Tark panted as he threw himself on the bed.
"No,” Sabin said, “that's not how things are done. You know better."
Rita chose a corner of the room and slid down the wall into it, her knees up to her chin. If she took her eyes off either of her captors, Sabin never knew; his dreams were colored by the green glow of her eyes.
* * * *
They walked for two nights, sleeping during the days, as Sabin hated sunlight, and reached the entrance to a cave hidden deep in the forest. It was a creepy, out-of-the-way place, and hard enough to get to that most casual hikers or hunters would never bother.
Rita went in first. She stopped in front of a seal, her eyes glowing brightly, illuminating the carved stone. Tark brushed dirt and thick dust webs off the surface with his hands, then turned and nodded at Sabin. She had led them to the right place.
Sabin came up behind her and placed his hands over her temples. Now for the second part of the spell he had placed on her eyes.
"No one knows where the soul of Carsisus walks, but I declare to you now that you are that great sorceress. Already you have led us to the place only she knew about. Think back, think back a hundred years, a
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