FSE

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This story is licensed under the Creative Commons

Attribution Noncommercial Share Alike 3.0 License

息 2008 by Noisy Bob All Rights Reserved

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NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: The world this story is set in is the one of Onyx Tao's excellent story series Cold Blood (don't throw a fit, it's all open license and Tao's a great guy!) and is set into the timeline at around about chapter 3 - Green Fields - but is to be considered non-canonical, being purely a fanwork. If you enjoyed this then go check out Cold Blood which as of the writing of this is up to it's 14th chapter, I guarantee you won't be dissapointed.

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Silk smiled to himself and sighed with relief when the big black minotaur obediently placed the collar he had handed to the brute around his own neck and fastened the lock in place, that final act signalled the end of the rite that bound the warrior indefinately to his will. That was the key, the collar had to be donned of their own volition, the last willed act they'd ever make, it made the control so much more pervasive that way. But damn it had taken alot out of him, perspiration trickled down his nude form in rivulets and slicked his silvery hair, he was going to have to sleep for a week to recover what he had lost in stamina and arcane exhaustion. But that was expected, minotaurs were mentally and psychically constructed to dominate and control, it was only natural that magic designed to subliminate the will so utterly as the Rite of the Sleeper would have difficulty breaking them down, especially when the magic used was flavoured with human resonance, the whole state of affairs was too unnatural for it to be otherwise.

"Stand." he commanded in a stern voice, not strictly necessary anymore but a little reinforcement never hurt. The minotaur sprang to his hooves instantly, almost unbalancing himself in his eagerness to carry out the order.

"Kneel." again the minotaur burst into motion, smoothly dropping into a kneeling position.

"Down." the minotaur dropped to the ground, resting on his forearms and grovelling submissively at Silks feet.

Testing for any residual mental resistance he extended a slight nudge, barely a mote of his power, into the minotaurs forebrain and the supine creature rose with a vacant, doe-eyed expression in its eyes and knealt before him, holding its face close to his groin. Silk luxuriated in the feeling of the minotaurs hot breath against his skin before sending another urging spike into its mind, a soft moan issued from the back of the minotaurs throat as it leant forward to take Silks member into its mouth, Silk, for his part, bit off a short gasp at the feeling of the minotaurs mouth, like oiled leather covering hot, polished stone and that prehensile tongue that did such unearthly things, wrapping around his shaft and milking him like a third hand. He rested his hands on the broken stubs of the minotaurs horns and with a combination of gentle pushes and mental influence guided the speed and depth of the ministrations recieved from the hungry mouth. The black-furred minotaur, submissively suckling on the cock of a human several feet shorter and with a fraction of the muscle mass, must be a bizzare sight, Silk thought giddily as he relaxed into the minotaurs muzzle, massive furred hands supported him, gripping his thighs and buttocks. It took little time for that teasing, stroking tongue to bring him to peak and he groaned loudly as a shuddering release wracked his body, the enscorcelled minotaur greedily swllowing his seed.

As his orgasm subsided Silk roughly threw the minotaur to the ground, a feat impossible were it not for the fact that he didn't resist in the slightest or even try to keep its balance. Silk splayed himself across the minotaurs wide chest and breathed in deep gulps of the piney scent, exploring the mountains and valleys of muscle with probing fingers. His snaking tongue lapped a bead of sweat from the minotaurs hard, black nipple, exulting in the danger of it, he knew minotaur sweat was deathly addictive, especially to humans, but then it was addiction that made him need this, he craved it like a dying man craves water. And that scent...damn, but it was so close to Mallears! It even had that faintest suggestion of cinnamon mixed in with the earthy forest odour, it was so close...but not the same.

His arousal dissapated at that realisation and he sighed dissapointedly and pushed himself off the minotaurs chest, rising to his feet and retrieving his shimmering black robe, discarded as part of the ritual, and swathed it about himself, taking a seat on the rickety wooden chair he had draped it over. Looking back, the miontaur still lay unmoving on the cold stone floor where he left it, he had given no command to move.

Yes, the rite was perfect, the once-proud warrior that had fought him with every step of the rite for days on end was now just another puppet for him to toy with. It was sad really, to see one so mighty laid low like this, and for a moment Silk felt a sense of pity for the massive warrior. The moment quickly passed, perhaps now Mallear would forgive the failure of his Janissaries when he saw how thoughroughly Silk had anihilated the warriors independance. Mallear prized this gift of his as deeply as other minotaurs loathed it, Mindbending, as long as he still had this then Mallear would never thow him away...at least he hoped not. It was a very special kind of mindbending, unique to him for all he knew, that peeled back layers of consciousness one-by-one, leaving each layer virtually unharmed by the magic's passing and insinuated itself between them. It was a form of mental control as gentle as it was all-pervasive, a far cry from the cut-and-stick psychological mutilation of traditional mindbending techniques, it was slower, subtler and as unstoppable as a landslide providing it had enough raw magical power behind it, at last it seemed Silk had almost drained his reserves of magical stamina dry, no test Mallear had put him through had been as gruelling.

He forced down the pang of panic that started growing in his chest and took a series of deep breaths, focusing his mind into an autohypnotic state where he had total control. He couldn't be replaced, that new plaything of Mallears, Ravager, was just a temporary distraction, savages like him were a sun-a-bushel, creator-gifted or not. He couldn't lose Mallears favour, not yet, too much was at stake to fall out of his trust yet.

"The rite is complete, a total success." he sent, there was a short 'curling' sensation as the minotaur mage picked up and completed the link and Silk felt his magic sufuse it. Mallears magic was bubbly, effervescent and clear, not the usual skin-crawling unwholesomeness. He must be in a good mood, or at least sated his craving for cruelty for the day, for once luck was on Silks side, it seemed.

_ "Excellent work, apprentice. His memories have been cleansed and the proper revisions made?" _ boomed Mallears voice inside his head.

"They have, He can be dispatched at any time."

_ "And the original personality is intact?" _ inquired Mallear, insistently.

"Yes, the deep-psyche alterations should be undetectable, the intact personality-matrix will cover them well enough to fool a lovers intuition." replied Silk, Mallear was always mollified by excellence in his servants.

_ "Good, that's exactly what it needs to do." _ came Mallears sending _ "I shall be there directly to finalise matters, I have pressing business to take care of first." _

"As you wish, Mas-" Silk began to reply, a brief empathic insinuation down the link caught him off guard, it happened every so often since Mallear had gained the wolven mind-gift for himself, for the barest moment he shared his masters senses and got a good look of his 'pressing business', namely dallying with that bastard Celti!Silk bit his lip so hard a thin strand of blood began to roll down his chin, not once but twice now had Mallear taken that wretch to his bed, twice he had been snubbed in favour of a...a feral! A filthy, bastard, barbarian feral chosen over a two-hundred-thousand sun pleasure slave, it was unthinkable! He was gaunt and drawn from magical exhaustion and he hadn't eaten well in months but he was still superior to that scum, thirty generations, thirty-damn-generations it had taken to create perfection like him, every inch of his skin was an artists canvas, no halfwitted mongrel feral could compare to that!

So why did Mallear seem to prefer Ravager to him?

_ "Apprentice? Is there something wrong?" _ came an insistent sending.

Silk paused for a moment, "No, Master. I must have just lost my concentration for a moment." he lied, not saying what really came to mind; Yes, damn it, there is a great deal wrong!

_ "You complete the rite of the sleeper and lose control of a simple sending spell? I swear I've never seen anyone make so many different mistakes as you, apprentice!" _ said Mallear, the tone of the sending was jesting but to Silk it felt like a spear through the heart, he winced involentarily.

"Forgive me, Master, I am somewhat weary from the casting." he said after a moment.

_ Tut tut, apprentice. You know I am not 'Master' when we are working magic. _ said Mallear, and Silk cursed internally, is nothing ever good enough for you?.

"My apologies, a slip of the tongue, consider it another break with tradition, you are so very fond of those." said Silk in response, it wasn't until the sentance had left his lips that he regretted it, hoping Mallear wouldn't detect the icy barb it contained.

_ "Hmmm...yes, I like that. Anyway, duty calls." _ said Mallear in a sultry and lascivious tone that turned Silks stomach to know its source.

"Such hardships, Master." he said, controlling his bitterness, and cut the link.

~~~*~~~

Tathal blinked back to reality when Mallear turned back to him after carrying out his conversation with the nonpresent Silk, it was so surreal to watch that it made him feel a little off-balance, it was one thing for someone to talk to themself, it was quite another for them to get a response. The impassive steel visage had been cast aside and in its place Mallears own equally impassive eyes regarded him for a moment before falling into a muzzle-twisting smile. Lying sprawled accross the thick furs of Mallears bed, the Minotaurs eyes made him suddenly feel very naked indeed, the thick sackcloth swathes suddenly seemed very thin indeed but eyes like that could make a person feel unguarded while dressed in bronze plate.

"Now then, pet, where were we?" said Mallear in a sybilant rumble that made his cock twitch inside its clothy prison, arousal burning sun-hot. Mallear, Tathal was beginning to realise, was like two seperate beings on times, when the mask was donned he was cruel, heartless and sadistic but when he shed it he was wise, just, melancholic, and even kind, though in a strange way.

Most of all, Mallear unmasked was a wellspring of eroticism, almost frantically so, it reminded him vaguely of how some men sought to run away from their problems by burying them in drink and whores, heck, he'd done it himself more than one time, that maniacal hunger for more intoxication was similar to what he saw in Mallears eyes.

So apparently he was now feeling what it was like to be the whore, came the inevitable conclusion that inferred itself from his musings, the gods were probably having great, big, thigh-slapping, belly laughs. Well, he'd never cared what they thought before and wasn't about to start now, he had a new god now.

Mallear bent down and devoured his mouth, kissing him with a passion that was spine-tingling in its savagery, tickling the roof of his mouth and sucking gently on his eager tongue, willingly offered. Tathal returned the kiss with as much intensity as he could muster, pressing himself into he embrace, and a lusty sigh escaped his throat, suprising even him. Hells teeth, why was he acting like this? He still didn't quite understand what was happening to him but ever since Mallear shared his mind, he'd mentioned something about breaking down his mental barriers, he remembered, every touch and glance from the minotaur had left him feeling flushed and needy like he had taken some potent aphrodesiac. Was that it, had he been drugged?

It was possible, Mallears lab contained more bottles of strange substances than Tathal could count, never mind guess the function of. Somehow he doubted it though, it was too indirect, Mallear wouldn't bother going to the trouble when he could just ensorcell him unless he and something else in mind. A spell then? Unlikely, he hadn't felt the wash of sensation that accompanied Mallears magic, neither the skin-crawling creep nor the effervescent bubbling feeling, it was possible the minotaur could disguise that, he could do anything as far as Tathal knew, but again why would he bother? At least twice the minotaur had put him under a very obvious and undisguised spell and both times he had been too overwhelmed to object or even care.

Another possibility sprang up, as he melted against the furnace-heat of Mallears chest; maybe Mallear hadn't done anything to him at all, maybe it was just him. It was possible, he'd never been particularly attracted to another male before, certainly not to the point of wanting to bed them, and Mallear wasn't even human, but then he'd never actually tried it either, it could be just a taste he liked that he'd never known before. That felt...closer to the truth, something was missing though.

Abruptly, Mallear broke the kiss and chuckled a deep, throaty laugh under his breath.

"Now I remember why I used to enjoy ferals so much, such neurotic little things, always thinking, thinking, thinking. Ifs, whats, wheres and whys by the bushel but so few actual decisions." he said, brushing a loose thread of Tathals hair out of his eyes as he held the humans head immobile in one hand "As exasperating as it is adorable, I sometimes wonder how the Empire can even function at all, such as it does, without minotaurs to guide them."

Oh, damn, he'd forgotten that Mallear could sense his thoughts! Tathal involentarily blushed and broke off Mallears gaze, feeling all the more vulnerable with his skin red and prickling from embarassment.

"Ah, now stop that, I cannot abide the 'coy and bashful' act, however sincere it may be. Even in my human lovers I always preffered a little fire." said Mallear, sounding slightly weary but not angry, to Tathals relief "I haven't enchanted you, at least not by sorcerous means, you are just relaxing into previously unopened parts of your psyche, nothing could be more normal."

"I...don't know what that means." Tathal croaked, his embarassment forgotten in the hypnotic rhythmn of Mallears voice.

"It is like how the Wolven have a natural tendancy to seek to control those weaker than them and obey those stronger, or how Minotaurs naturally abhor disorder and seek to make it conform to our wills wherever it is found, a part of the personality that is fundamentally ingraned but only makes itself known under certain triggering circumstances, so too is it with humans." explained Mallear as he ran his fingers along the ties that held the front of his robe together, the cunningly-tied knots unfastening themselves like uncoiling snakes after he touched them.

"So this...I don't know what to call it."

"The term used in this age is the Influence, it has known other, more esoteric, names in the past but 'influence' suffices for now."

"This influence makes me want-"

"To love and please me, yes. Or any other minotaur for that matter, at least until I find a way to key the influence exclusively and permanently to myself. And it is not a case of it making you do anything, it is simply a part of who you are, albeit a part that had no reason to manifest until now."

"But why?"

Mallear shrugged slightly "The creators had their reasons, I suppose, unless they were simply mad. What those reasons were I cannot say and do not care, mastery of their power is all I desire, whatever their motives I think it is quite clear that they failed in their experiment." he said "But forget that for now, trying to decipher the vagaries of the creators thoughts nearly consumed the life of my old master and I have no intention to go the same way, for now I prefer more earthly pursuits." with that a pulse of magic emanated from the mage and Tathal felt his clothes begin to loosen and fall open.

"And why me? There are plenty of women..." said Tathal, absently wondering out loud.

Mallear made an amused sigh "I always hated the old steryotype of the 'ever-questioning feral', if only for being so cliche', but it seems it bares true time and again." he said with a slightly derisory chuckle "Why you? Because I find you desireable. Why not a female? Because I have no desire for more heirs, the blood of Xarbydis still runs strong in clan Ouroboros largely due to my time spent masquerading as one of their clansmen. Also, you possess military experience, a trait I value highly and something none of my other Echidnans have."

"Oh." said Tathal, lamely, there really wasn't much else to say.

"Yes. Now, one more thing..." said Mallear as he reached out and hefted the form of Hard Lightning from where it lay beside the bed, encased tightly in layer upon layer of linen and leather cords, still Tathal could feel a tingle of power running from the thing, similar yet undeniably different than Mallears own magic. He lifted the edge of a few furs that made up the makeshift matress and placed the bundled blade beneath them before folding them back over.

"Before a blade like this can accept a weilder it must first learn their heart, its metal was taken from living beings and life calls to life, before its enchantment can be complete it must know you at your most open and receptive." he said, turning back to Tathal and fixing the prone human with a smouldering stare "There are many ways of attaining such a state; long hours of meditation, consumption of certain potent hallucinogens, ritualised fasting and ordeals...or there's the easy way."

"The easy way?" said Tathal hopefully, all the other options sounded damn unpleasant.

"Yes, a screaming orgasm is just as efficacious and far less bother, quite the reverse in fact."

So, Mallears decision to take him to his bed hadn't been purely out of indulgence but another part of his machinations, that gave Tathal mixed feelings, it was surely a good thing to aid Mallears vision but the thought of lovemaking being done for some purpose other than the joy of the act itself left him strangely cold. The anxiety didn't last long.

Mallear discarded the rough swathe around Tathals body, forcefully tossing the thing into a corner as though it offended him, leaving Tathal nude besides for the harness of leather straps that calmed his Furore'. Mallears own mossy-green robe soon followed it, in the flickering candlelight Tathal could see the image of the minotaur outlined against the raging magma in his minds eye and even with the protection of his magic Tathal could still smell hot metal, burnt hair and forge-sweat mingled in with the minotaurs own sea-pine musk, odours both hot and cool merged together. Before he had even realised what he was doing Tathal had risen to his hands and knees and edged closer, raw instinct drew him to Mallear like a moth to a flame.

One massive hand held his head, entwining its fingers in his hair, as another wrapped around his back and drew him closer, holding against a chest that could have been carved from softwood, so dense were the muscles beneath the velvety fur. With his face pressed into the fur of Mallears chest, thicker there than the rest of his body besides the bald patch where his scar crossed through it, the minotaur-musk was literally intoxicating, a heady scent that fogged his mind and tightened his loins as Mallear smothered him in it until he was shaking with need. As if sensing some change in him, Mallear suddenly rolled over onto the bed, carrying Tathals meager weight effortlessly along with him and depositing his body down on the furs. Mallear held him in profile with the gentle curl of the minotaurs own body with his back to that furred chest. Softly-furred fingers wrapped around his hardening member and even the lightest strokes were enogh to make him whimper and writhe.

"This is wrong!", some almost-forgotten part of his mind yelled at him, "I'm not some damn whore, I don't act like a sex-drugged maniac just because..."

Because what, exactly? Because Mallear offered him power? Because he was a minotaur? Because he was a mage? Because he was male? It could have been any one or all of those but whatever the reason his skin was on fire from the lightest touch and he was acting like he enjoyed it, and he didn't entirely want to resist it.

"Hush now, pet. Quell those thought, they'll only bring you more pain." whispered Mallear, part of him wanted to laugh at the thought of Mallear giving him advice on avoiding pain, but that part at least was easily silenced.

The teasing and stroking did the rest, Mallear methodiacally toyed with his body, rebuffing any attempt he made at laying his own hands on the minotaurs body, until he was almost breathless. Gentle pinches that were more suprising and arousing than painful kept him from focusing on any thought longer than the minotaur wanted him to until it felt like Mallear was playing his body like some kind of bizzare musical instrument that sang in moans and gasps, the constant barrage of sensation along his skin made all the stronger by the rubbing leather belts of the limiter harness and the silver rings that irritated his hardening nipples. His arousal was so high as to almost be painful when Mallears grip on him loosened.

"What do you want?" said Mallear in a commanding tone and Tathal felt the soft bubbling of magic wash over him like a blanket of seafoam.

Tathal blinked in confusion "I..."

"What do you want?" repeated Mallear, a little louder this time.

"I-I don't know what you mean?" said tathal, shakily.

"Then let me make it easier; do you want to know just what you are truly capable of?"

Tathal was silent for a moment before answering "Yes."

"Do you want power beyond what you could ever have dreamed of as a human?"

"Yes." said Tathal, quicker this time.

"Do you want to see the worlds free of the needless strife the creators left in their wake?"

Images of burnt-out villages left in the wake of the Imperial army flashed through his mind, followed by the long, dark nights under siege from the Wolven, hoping and praying that their arrows would keep them at bay. In vain, they never did.

"Yes!" he said, fervently.

"Do you want me?"

"Yes!" cried Tathal, and realised he really did. In the candlelight he just made out Mallears muzzle twisting into a knowing smile.

The shadowy form of the minotaur leaned in close and Tathal winced as a rough, wet tongue was drawn tantalisingly along his chest and up his neck.

"Do you want to know beyond doubt that there is a will stronger than yours and that obeying it will bring you true joy? Do you want to serve me as my lieutenant?" Whispered Mallear, inches from Tathals face.

Lieutenant? Gods, but that was more than he'd ever hoped for! From the moment he had discovered the truth of Mallears strange servants, the echidnans, he had known that he was to join them and that they were the mages soldiers, closer and more valued even than his Wolven allies for they knew no other master, but to be given an actual position of power? That was too much to think possible.

"Again I see your doubts rising; 'why me?', 'am I worthy?', 'why am I so trusted?'." said Mallear "To answer; because more than any other under my command, you have the capacity for leadership, your talents and gift make your worthiness is unquestioned and if you look inside yourself you will see why I know you will not betray me. So, I repeat, and do not make me do so again; Do you want to serve me as my lieutenant?"

"Yes! Gods of hell, I do!" said Tathal suddenly, almost yelling, his outburst seemingly catching Mallear by suprise, something he had never seen before.

"Hmmm, strange...why didn't I sense..." said Mallear quietly to himself before shaking his head "But no matter, it is enough to know that you will serve me loyally, you shall be rewarded for that, I make a point of showing my appreciation to trustworthy agents."

The now-familliar seafoam tingle of magic burst out from Mallear, covering and enveloping him, a dull corner of his mind wondered if all magic felt like that or just Mallears but soon all was forgotten in the waves of cool, soothing power that filled him until he thought he might burst from holding so much of it in and he moaned desperately and sought for some way to relieve the pressure. When Mallears grip on him was finally released Tathal was so desperate for release that he virtually attacked the minotaur, elliciting an amused chuckle from the far larger male, as he instinctively followed the line of Mallears body to the tight snarl of fur at his groin. He nuzzled the spot, gladly drinking in the achingly-potent scent, until he had awoken Mallears flesh. Deft fingers toyed with his hair as he lapped at the hardening flesh allong with softly-spoken encouragement that he couldn't quite make out throught he fog in his mind, a brief pang of guilt stabbed at his guts because of that, he should have understood those words that his master so freely gave him and it was shameful not to, but more whispered assurances soon quietened his mind and he sighed happily from the knowledge that he was pleasing his Master.

When Mallear finally nudged him away from his work he whined in loss for a brief moment before the minotaur pinned him immobile to the furs, spreading his arms as if to be crucified. He felt the soft contact of Mallears shaft agains his pucker and writhed in aroused frustration trying to ease himself further onto it but he was held too tight to move more than an inch. Eventually he was growling and snarling like a beast out of pure desperation.

"P-please!" he managed to get out, forming even a single word was a struggle.

"Not yet, my pet." said Mallear in a sing-song voice, forcing a dismayed moan from Tathal as the minotaurs prehensile tongue again worked his nipple, biting the ring in his tombstone-teeth and tugging just enough to give Tathal clarifying jolts of pleasure-pain that never tipped over the edge to true discomfort.

Gods, that brought no relief, it just made his keening arousal grow further! He couldn't bare it any longer, being denied release like this was maddening, he strained against Mallears grip with every iota of strength he could muster but it was not enough, even without Furore' he was stronger than any normal human but still couldn't match Mallears titanic minotaur strength. Anger mingled with frustrated lust, it was too much, just too much to stand for any longer, he needed Mallear now, it was no longer a matter of want. The limiter harness crackled with static as Furore' pushed against it like a caged animal, howling to be set free.

Even Mallear seemed startled when Tathal twisted his body with such force that he flipped the minotaurs massive weight over, the muscles of his chest and stomach shfiting and warping unnaturally, but he soon recovered.

"Yes, that's it, my pet! Let it all free!" Mallear bellowed as Tathal pulled free of his grip and took the minotaurs shaft with almost violent speed, his tongue lolled and his eyes rolled back in his head as he finally found what he needed. He snarled savagely as he bucked back and forth, taking the pillar of hard flesh deeper each time, aided by Mallears thrusting.

His hands scrabbled on Mallears slick pelt for purchase before they were taken in Mallears own and guided onto his horns, providing the grip he needed to rail harder and faster onto the length. One of Mallears hands closed around his weeping cock to give him something to thrust into. That was enough to bring him to peak, with the firm and responsive fingers encircling his shaft it was only a matter of time before an orgasm of stomach-clenching intensity exploded through him. He roared his exultation and his body convulsed into a tight arch as it ran it's course, the waves running through his own body simultaneously bringing Mallear to peak, who let loose a bone rattling lowing and took Tathal to the hilt.

Tathal slowly relaxed, sated but strangely alert, and fell sideways onto the furs where he lay panting and wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.

"Hells teeth." he swore, staring through the hewn-stone ceiling above him.

"Quite." said Mallear with a short bark of laughter "And more besides..."

From under the furs, Mallear took the tightly-bound blade of Hard Lightning and set it down beside Tathal.

"Unwrap it."

Tathal looked from the unreadable face of the minotaur to the bundle and groggily rose to his knees and lifted it, it was as light as he remembered, most of the weight seemed to be from the cloth and leather. Leather thongs were snapped and unknotted in his fingers and the voluminous swathes of fabric slowly folded aside to reveal the hiltless blade that was to be his sword, polished and oiled and gleaming darkly, the candlelight just illuminating the ogham markings that spelled out its name.

"Do you notice anything different?" Mallear said in an interrogating tone.

"No, master. It looks the same as before." said Tathal, staring transfixed. The same as before; beautiful. He lifted the paper-thin steel reverantly in both hands, careful to avoid the lethally sharp edge and held it out.

"Maybe you could see something with your magic?" he said, hopefully.

Mallear sat unmoving "No, and I cannot touch it anymore, it is bound to you now. The change is there, I know the bond took, look harder." he said.

Tathal looked again at the terrible thing in his hands searching for some indication of some change in it...and immediately dropped it as though it were a venomous snake. It had moved!

"What? What did you find?" said Mallear, noting his alarm.

"It moved! It moved in my hand!"

"Pick it up again, it won't harm you, you are the only one it wouldn't harm."

Tentatively, Tathal wrapped his hand around the tang, that seemed safe enough. There it was again! Something coming from inside the metal, just below the surface, a throbbing and rushing feeling that got faster and strnger the more he noticed it. It was like...

"It has a heartbeat." he said in amazement.

Mallear made an approving rumble and nodded sagely "Correction; it has your heartbeat. Such resonant affects are common when working with blood iron."

"life calls to life." whispered Tathal, half to himself, as he held the blade.

"So it seems you do have a brain in there somewhere afterall." said Mallear, tapping Tathal on the forehead "Yes, pet. Life calls to life, the most important law in biomancy and an important law in magic in general." with that the mage rose to his hooves and vanished in a flash of minotaur speed, Tathal jumped when he felt the swords pulse - his pulse - intensify sharply when that happened, Mallear emerged from behind the screen on one side of the chamber with two broken minotaur horns in one hand, he made an offhand gesture and his robe fluttered to him sinuously, like an eel swimming through water.

"Sleep now, tommorow you will craft a hilt and haft and complete the blade, I expect you to decipher the blades powers on your own, this is your first duty to me, understood?" said Mallear as he tugged on the robe.

Tathal nodded, he'd had enough experience maintaining his own weapons to do the finishing work on a sword, as for the rest...well, he couldn't afford to fail now.

"Good, now, less pleasant errands await." said the towering mage and his mask flew into his spare hand and he buckled it tightly and vanished again...but almost slower now somehow? The blur that came before he vanished entirely seemed longer, if only by a fraction of a second. Tathal felt Hard Lightning convulse in his grip again just as it had when Mallear had used his minotaur-speed before, was the sword what slowed him down? He nearly dismissed the thought, maybe Mallear was just tired or something, it wasn't like he knew how that strange speed-magic the minotaurs used worked anyway. But then another thought occured, he had wondered why Mallear would craft him this weapon, surely if he was to do battle then his Furore'-strength would make any weapon just as effective in the long run...

Cutting time. It was something Mallear had mentioned, at the time it had seemed like more of the incomprehensable poetic jargon that the minotaur spoke in, but now he thought he was beginning to understand.

It was a weapon for killing minotaurs.

~~~*~~~

Diomedes sat up with a start, his fingers grasping for the hilt of his waraxe and finding it lying close, with carefully-honed reflexes he lept to his hooves immediately and scanned his surroundings for any sign of danger. Black stone, screeching wind and the dampness of fog surrounded him but no sign of danger.

Just a ring of corpses surrounding him on all sides. Familliar faces stared at the sky with dead eyes, faces of those he had commanded, trained, fought with, drank with, his men. All of them, all dead. Around them were an even larger ring of dead Wolven, some of the bodies locked together in mortal combat.

Hazy memories of what had happened flickered through his mind, they had been ambushed by Wolven, dozens of them, and some other thing too, he got a definite impression of creatures in dark cloaks...probably more wolven trickery. Karal had been too slow, he was hit with a mental attack before he could shift to Tempus and was torn appart by the avalanche of fangs and claws while he stood stunned. Then...what? So much seemed misty, he must have taken a wolven mind-blast himself and then...then his men had died potecting him.

"Damn it all!" he bellowed into the uncaring wind and he sunk to his knees and drove his fist into the stone hard enough to leave a dent. For a long minute he cursed his own failure, he had failed his men, failed his clan and, worst of all, failed himself. By the look of the bodies he must have been out for days, he certainly felt a dry thirst and overpowering hunger, so the attack must have come from an alpha at least but that didn't excuse his weakness, his moment of laxity had cost the lives of twenty warriors, it was unforgiveable.

That evening he gathered as much wood as he could from the scraggly and wind-blasted trees that grew haphazardly out of the few patches of earth that settled between the rocks and burned the bodies of his soldiers, at least they wouldn't be eaten by wild animals that way. In fact it was a wonder he had managed to go days unconscious without being found and captured by the remaining wild Kurgani nomads, they must truly be as scarce these days as the Hunters guild said, or maybe this area was cursed or taboo to them.

When the pyres had burned down to ash he gathered up their weapons to return to their fathers and made off in the direction of the nearest hunters-keep at low Tempus.

Many thoughts weighed heavily on his mind, so many in fact that he never noticed the two robed figures standing side by side on the mountainside, watching him.

"You are sure you want to allow him to return, Master?" said one, swathed in black silk.

"Yes, when outward force fails there is always another way, one which none can guard against." said the other.

"And what is that, Master?"

"It is a deceptively simple thing, you need only attack them from inside."