yatsabel
TMF Regular
- Joined
- Apr 19, 2001
- Messages
- 295
- Points
- 18
Chapter 5
"The Awakened"
The next day, Zenobia's torture was especially thorough. She tickled the pair exhaustively until they were completely drained, their small bodies aching from the spasms of laughter and convulsive exhaustion.
"You need to be tired to keep you out of mischief," Zenobia said, her voice a low rumble. "Miss Nottle is not to be tickled ever. It is not lady-like to twist and turn and guffaw like some baboon. You little butterflies are different."
Completely drained, Corina and Arlene still found the strength to pull themselves off the boards each evening, reuniting in the drawer, a small island of safety. There, they would discuss their options. Without magic powerful enough to counter Zenobia's dreamscape and with no way to physically coerce the giantess, there seemed no possibility of escape. Their past attempts had shown them that Corina's magic alone would not be enough for them to persuade Zenobia to release them. It would require cunning and ingenuity.
Their determination led them to begin a meticulous search of the jars, specimens, and ingredients scattered around the inside of the cottage. Their small size made the task difficult for them to maneuver up tall and deep shelves. It was then that Corina's attention was drawn to a jar with a label in Zenobia's elegant, spidery handwriting:
"Basilisk Venom: HANDLE WITH CARE"
The jar itself was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, a delicate glass vial with a polished silver stopper. Inside, the venom was a thick, shimmering liquid that swirled with an oily sheen. It was a translucent, sickly green with tiny, almost imperceptible black motes that pulsed with a faint, malevolent light. It looked less like a liquid and more like a captured piece of pure, distilled malice.
Corina recalled Rika the kobold tinkerer mentioning that her claws were coated in basilik venom and it could paralyze without hindering sensitivity.
Arlene's eyes widened in horror. "We can't use that! If we poison her and she dies, we will be trapped here forever!"
"I'm certain it's not a fatal venom," Corina said, her voice a low, confident whisper. "A friend of mine uses it to coat her claws. It doesn't kill; it simply... subdues."
"How can you be certain?" Arlene asked, her voice trembling.
"There is only one way to find out," Corina decided.
With extreme caution, they collected the venom, emptying just enough into a thimble without touching the dangerous liquid. "We need to try the Basilisk Venom to confirm its effectiveness and to get the dose right," Corina said.
"Who's going to be the test subject?" Arlene asked.
"We could spin the coin on the table," Corina suggested, a slight challenge in her tone.
"It was your idea," Arlene countered. "Besides, you already tickled me in one of our experiments."
Corina nodded. "True. And it is my gamble that what my friend said about Basilisk Venom is true."
"How will we deliver it?" Arlene asked, still hesitant.
"Let's return to the drawer and figure these details out," Corina replied.
They returned with the thimble careful not to spill it on their way back. Corina thought for some time, her eyes scanning the drawer and the objects strewn around . She carefully extracted a fine splinter from the wooden floor of the drawer. After dipping the tip of the tiny splinter into the venom, she handed it to Arlene.
"Prick my hand with this," Corina said, holding out her hand.
"Are you sure about this?" Arlene asked. "I don't want to be out of friend in this wretched place."
"If we don't do something different," Corina said, "nothing is going to change. We need to try. I am willing to take the risk. Now prick me before I change my mind."
Arlene handled the splinter with extreme caution and carefully pricked the back of Corina's hand.
They looked at each other for a new minutes expecting a sudden effect.
"Did it work?" Arlene asked, watching expectantly.
"It takes a few seconds to reach the—" Corina said as her legs buckled under her. She lay motionless on the floor of the drawer. "I can talk," she said, her voice clear despite her limp body, "but that is all. Nothing more. I can't even move my head."
Arlene took wood elf's limp arm, pulled it up, and let it drop. It fell unceremoniously to the floor. Arlene then began poking and tickling her, and Corina laughed heartily, but her body could not move.
"It works!" Arlene declared, a hint of triumph and hope in her voice. "But how long does it last?"
"Keep tickling me until I regain movement, and we will know," Corina suggested.
Arlene played with Corina as if she were a rag doll. She lifted her arms and legs and let them fall limply with dull thuds. Arlene tickled intermittently and would probably confess she was having more fun than she ought to be having. She sat her up, rolled her over, pulled her spread-eagled, then curled her up in a ball. All the while, she continued tickling Corina's very ticklish body and eliciting helpless laughter.
"You're getting back at me for the time I tickled you for magic," Corina observed between laughs.
"Don't be absurd," Arlene said in a deadpan, serious tone. "This is a serious experiment. All for the sake of knowledge."
Movement finally returned, and Corina broke free of the basilisk venom's effect. She then tickled her friend back until Arlene laughed with her and surrendered.
"That's the amount of time we'll have to coerce her to release us," Corina declared. There was no way to count it down, but it seemed sufficient time to break the will of the giantess and have her release them from the dream.
Corina calculated the exact dosage needed based on her size and the size of Zenobia and began to formulate their plan. Arlene would deliver the venom on a large needle, as per Corina's instructions.
They had a good long sleep after. They were both confident it would be there last night in the hidden drawer.
* * * * * * * * * *
Corina and Arlene woke to find themselves back in their pinned positions, stretched out on the display board. Zenobia awoke as well, and for the rest of the day, she amused herself by tormenting her captive "butterflies."
"It’s all for your own good," the giantess chuckled, her voice a low rumble. "You will thank me for this one day."
Evening finally came, and with it, the captives' desperate hope for a final, terrifying night. Once the giantess grew tired of her games, she changed into her nightdress, extinguished the lamp, and climbed into her massive bed. Her enormous feet stuck out from under the covers, and soon, her deep, rumbling snores settled in.
It was time.
Without a moment's hesitation, the two captives wriggled off the board, tossing the pins haphazardly aside. They had no intention of ever using them again. Arlene held a needle with a single, crucial drop of Basilisk Venom on its point. With it, they would administer the poison.
They scaled the towering bedposts, making their way toward the only exposed part of their captor: her feet. Arlene drew the needle like a tiny sword, and with a grunt of effort, drove the tip into Zenobia's ankle.
The giantess let out a sudden, high-pitched squeal and bolted upright.
"What is this?" she demanded, her voice a thunderous bellow. "Mischievous butterflies! You are up to no good! I should have know, I should have guessed. I have other ideas for you now—I’ll pickle you both and store you in a jar!"
For a heart-stopping moment, Arlene and Corina trembled, wondering if they had just made a terrible mistake. But then Zenobia's knees buckled under her, and she fell back onto the bed with a massive groan.
"What have you done?" she shrieked, her voice laced with fear. "You've done something very bad! I will get back at you! You will both regret this day! What have you done!?"
Corina and Arlene exchanged a look and a shared, grim nod. They would not hesitate. They each began their assault on a foot, scrambling up Zenobia's soles, their hands and feet working with a manic relish to find every sensitive spot between her toes and down to her heels. This was their revenge.
Zenobia screamed and thrashed. "No, no, no! Don't touch me! Not my feet! Stop this madness!"
With Zenobia immobilized by the venom, they could move freely. A rush of magic coursed through Corina's veins, but she ignored it, focused only on her task. She thought of Sarantha and her ruthless methods, knowing that overwhelming this giantess with an attack she had likely never experienced was the only way to break her.
Corina crawled up Zenobia's nightdress, making sure to leave a trail of torturous ticklish sensations. She reached the giantess's stomach, tripping and tumbling into the deep hollow of her navel. Making the best of the fall, she purposefully dug her fingers in, eliciting a loud gasp from Zenobia. She continued her ascent, past her stomach and up her chest. Corina couldn't properly dig into her ribs, but she found a sensitive spot in the fold between the ribs and her towering breasts, ensuring Zenobia's screams intensified.
"Release us, and this ends!" Corina demanded as she emerged between the breasts and faced her tomertor, her voice echoing with resolve. "We can keep this up for hours, or even days if we need to!"
"No!" Zenobia cried, tears streaming down her face. "Never! You are my butterflies! You must obey me!"
Corina reached Zenobia's neck and ears, resuming her merciless assault. The giantess's protests dissolved into a frantic mixture of laughter, guffaws, and sobs. Corina continued to press her advantage, now speaking with Sarantha’s dominating tone.
"I said, release us!"
Finally, exhausted and utterly broken by the unaccustomed ticklish assault, Zenobia surrendered.
"I release you! I release you both!" she sobbed. "Just stop! Stop, please! You can leave the dream!"
"You will give us back our clothes and all our gear," Corina demanded, her voice unwavering. "And you will put us on our way out of the dream. Today."
"I agree! I agree!" Zenobia shrieked desperately. "It will be so!"
With that, Corina waved down at Arlene, who was still at the foot of the bed, and the tickling ceased.
* * * * * * * * * *
It was just in time. A few moments later, the giantess Zenobia regained her movement. She honored her word and regarded them with a grudging respect, the harsh lines of her face softened by a hint of a smile.
She returned their belongings from a heavy, iron-bound chest. Arlene was first to reclaim her gear, a confident grin spreading across her face as she donned her wide-brimmed hat, long leather boots, and buckled her rapier at her hip. She once again looked the part of a formidable swordswoman.
Corina sighed in relief as she slipped back into the comforting folds of her robes. Now dressed, she felt both confident and grounded once more.
Zenobia walked with them back into the glade, the earth trembling with each step. Corina and Arlene felt the blades of grass shrink around them as the giantess moved through the glade. By the time they reached the edge, the world was obscured by a thick, swirling fog. As the magic of the glade released its hold, Zenobia began to shrink, until she was the same height as the two companions.
"Fly away, little butterflies!" she declared, her voice now normal rather than a loud rumble. "May we never meet again in this realm." With a final nod, she turned and vanished into the fog.
Arlene turned and embraced Corina. "I could not have done it without you, Corina," the swordswoman said, her voice full of genuine gratitude. "If our paths cross again, I hope I can return the favor."
Corina returned the hug. "I could not have done it alone, either," she replied. "May our friendship continue beyond this dream."
They turned and walked back into the dense fog. The world around them began to melt away, the ground dissolving into nothingness and the air shimmering like a mirage until there was nothing left but a swirling vortex of color.
* * * * * * * * * *
Corina's eyelids fluttered open, heavy as lead. A familiar face, etched with worry, swam into view above her. Rika, the kobold tinkerer, was peering down at her, her usually bright, inquisitive eyes clouded with concern.
"I didn't think you would wake," Rika said, her voice a low murmur, surprisingly gentle.
Corina's throat felt dry, her voice a rasp. "How long have I slept?"
Rika sighed. "A week longer than I. I do not know how long I slept before that. Thisdraeda, she still dreams." Rika gestured with her chin towards a small, sturdy form curled on a makeshift bed of moss and dried leaves beside them.
Corina turned her head, her vision slowly sharpening. There lay Thisdraeda, the dwarf, snoring softly. Her normally stern face was peaceful, framed by strands of flaxen hair. She looked utterly lost in slumber, undisturbed by the world around them.
"How long do you figure she will remain in the dream?" Corina asked, a tremor of unease in her voice. The memory of Zenobia's dreamscape was still vivid, a lingering chill.
Rika shrugged, a gesture that seemed too large for her small frame. "You escaped. I escaped. She is resourceful. But she did drink two bottles of those ancient dwarven spirits, and we only drank one. Your guess is as good as mine."
Corina closed her eyes for a moment, remembering the overwhelming sensation of being trapped, the crushing weight of Zenobia's will. "It was not easy to escape my dream," she confessed. "And in mine, I had help."
"As I did in mine," Rika said, her voice unusually flat, offering no further detail about her own ordeal. The unspoken horrors of their individual dreamscapes hung heavy in the air between them.
Rika then nudged Corina gently. "You should go," she urged, her voice gaining a sense of urgency. "Mistress Sydra of Glee is near. You can continue on your way, and I will wait for Thisdraeda. Be it a day, a week, or whatever time it takes for her to awaken from her spirit dream."
"Are you certain?" Corina asked, her gaze lingering on the peacefully sleeping dwarf.
Rika nodded, her resolve hardening. "I will begin to make plans while she sleeps. A tinkerer never wastes time." A spark of her usual mischievous ingenuity seemed to return to her eyes. "Go and may you have good fortune with Mistress Sydra."
Corina gave Rika a grateful hug and patted Thisdraeda on the back as she slept.
"Best of fortunes for you both," Corina said as she stood to leave.
* * * * * * * * * *
Following the directions given by Agatha, Corina continued through the forest with a growing sense of confidence. She was certain the path would lead her to Mistress Sydra of Glee.
She came upon four heavily armored knights bearing longswords and shields. Their polished armor, which was the color of old gold, was familiar to Corina; it was the same as that worn by Herschel, the Evergold knight she had tickled and released. The knights stood in a loose circle, seemingly waiting for someone to return. She watched them for some time, their quiet conversation focused and intent.
Deciding to approach, she stepped from the cover of the trees. The knights turned as one, their movements surprisingly quick, and held their shields and swords at the ready.
"Who goes there?" one of the knights demanded, his sword tip aimed directly at her.
"Corina, a wood elf," she replied calmly.
"State your business," he said curtly. He was an older knight with grey hair and wrinkled on the sides of his eyes.
"I am looking for Sydra of Glee," she explained. "I've been searching for some time and don't know where she is."
The knight lowered his sword and gestured with his head to a petrified tree behind him. A small door was set into its trunk, with the word GLEE engraved above it. "Look no farther, little one."
Corina's eyes widened. "That's Glee?" she asked, incredulous.
He nodded gravely. "I would suggest you turn away and go somewhere else. Nothing good will come of your association with that woman."
"I’ve come to learn magic," she said simply.
He scoffed. "They all do. I won't stop you, but you have my advice, for whatever it's worth. I'm an old knight, but I’ve seen many of Lady Sydra's students. It is not something I would want for my daughter."
"She trains them well, does she not?" Corina pressed.
The old knight nodded. "That she does, and they are the very best. But at what price, and to what end?"
"Sir Bennet!" a voice scolded from the tree's door. "Tsk, tsk. You shouldn't scare away the apprentices, especially when your lady is in audience with my mistress, looking to secure more battle mages for your war."
A man in a flowing green robe emerged. He was a human with long, dark hair and large, wire-framed spectacles. He looked at Corina, and his face instantly went white.
"You!" he gasped, his voice tight with surprise.
"Drash!" Corina exclaimed, her eyes narrowing in recognition. "You left me tied up in the forest and took my gear."
"You did that to this young lady?" Sir Bennet said, his eyes narrowing in a sharp, judgmental glare.
"She's no young lady, Sir Bennet. She's older than your grandmother, I assure you," Drash stammered, blood rushing to his face. "She was fine. I left her with her dagger and she was close to home. I was the one in danger!"
Both Sir Bennet and the other knights looked at him in disbelief.
"She's here, isn't she?" Drash said defensively. "All's well that ends well, right?"
"If you would permit it, Lady Corina," Sir Bennet offered, his hand resting on his sword hilt, "I will be happy to put a rightful thrashing on young Drash. I am certain Lady Sydra would not oppose it."
Drash gulped audibly.
"Thank you, Sir Bennet," Corina replied, a slight smirk on her face. "But Drash is right. In the end, it all worked out for the best. I am here, and I will apprentice with Lady Sydra."
Sir Bennet nodded, a look of respect in his eyes. "You seem the resourceful sort," he said. "I wish you luck, though I wish more that you would heed my warning."
"I appreciate your concern," Corina said, bowing her head slightly. "Best of luck to you and yours, noble knight."
Drash, clearly relieved, led Corina through the door.
* * * * * * * * * *
"Sir Bennet would have given me a thrashing," Drash said nervously. "He's not one to make idle threats, and he's very familiar with mages. No way I'd have cast a spell in time. Besides, Sydra would be more likely to side with him than to side with me."
"You did abandon me," she stated plainly. They passed through the door, and it opened into a vast, sprawling hall that in no way matched the small size of the petrified tree. It was a space warped by powerful magic.
"For a good cause!" he rebutted, gesturing wildly. "I needed every last one of your rations to survive, to brave the spiders, the dwarves, and every other cursed thing in this forsaken forest."
At the inner door stood two hulking trolls with long iron claws. They were a menacing sight.
"She's with me," Drash said, and the trolls gave a single, slow nod, their heavy gazes returning to their post.
"You're lucky," he explained as they walked. "When I arrived, there was barely a space for one apprentice. It took some clever maneuvering to secure a spot with Mistress Sydra. You might have made it, but I would have won. I’m quicker on the draw."
"You got lucky, but you did cast a heartbeat faster," she admitted begrudgingly.
"Now, with Mistress Sydra needing more mages for the Evergold's war," he said, a triumphant look on his face, "you should be a shoo-in. You see? It worked out for both of us!"
Corina wasn't fully convinced.
"Friends?" he asked, holding out a hand.
She shook it reluctantly.
"Please don't mention me abandoning you to Mistress Sydra," he pleaded. "She's a bit like Sir Bennet. They seem nice, but they both have short fuses."
Corina looked around, taking in dozens of robed mages moving through the hall. Their robes were a vibrant tapestry of colors: white, yellow, green, and purple.
"You can't wear purple here," Drash whispered, noticing her stare. "That's the highest level. Beginners wear white. But you haven't been accepted yet, so take off your robe for the audience," he suggested.
Corina sighed, but complied, pulling off her robes to reveal her green silk tunic and brown trousers.
"We're going straight to the throne room," he said, placing her robe into a cloth bag and handing it back. "She’s in audience with the ambassador from Evergold. Be silent, and she'll see you when they're done."
The air in the throne room was thick with the scent of exotic incense and a faint, sweet aroma that Corina couldn't place. It wasn't until she was ushered forward, past elegant mages in colorful silk robes, that she saw the source of the fragrance.
Seated upon a high, carved throne was a being of undeniable power and grace: Mistress Sydra. Her skin was a deep, verdant green, a color that seemed both natural and impossible. From her forehead curved two dark, elegant horns, and a thin, muscular tail, tipped with a small tuft of fur, swayed gently behind her. She was barefoot, her slender feet adorned with delicate silver anklets.
Her face was a study in contradictions. Her eyes, a bright, captivating green, sparkled with an almost childlike mischief, and her lips were curled into a sly, knowing smile that hinted at secrets. Yet, under her left eye, a dark red tattoo, shaped like a stylized, jagged tear, was etched into her skin. It was the only blemish on an otherwise perfect visage. Her garb was a riot of color, a queen's robe made of flowing silks in shades of emerald, gold, and deep purple. It was luxurious but not constricting, moving with a liquid grace that mirrored her own. In her hand, she twirled a single peacock feather with a casual elegance that sent a shiver down Corina’s spine. The title "Mistress of Glee" made sense now. She wasn’t a jester. She was a queen, and her court, her followers, were all part of an extension of her will.
On a gilded couch nearby, a beautiful human woman in her sixties sat with a tall knight standing behind her. The ambassador of Evergold had the poised elegance of a diplomat and the weathered wisdom of a queen. Her silver-streaked hair was pinned in a tasteful chignon, and her fine silk robes, in the deep red and gold of Evergold, were the height of fashion. Her face, beautiful beyond her years, bore the fine lines of age and experience. She had a striking presence that commanded respect without needing to be loud. The knight behind her was Herschel, his polished armor gleaming under the light.
"I need battle mages and I need them now," the ambassador stated, her voice a low, firm demand that cut through the silence. "I have gold in abundance and I can pay."
"It is not a matter of gold," Sydra said, her melodious voice carrying throughout the throne room. "Casters of the caliber you require are born, not made. There are limits to what I can provide, even with a mountain of gold."
"Unlike any of the knights and soldiers fighting our war," the ambassador countered, a flash of fire in her eyes, "I have been under your feather. I have been tickled ruthlessly for magic, discarded on a whim, and discharged when I no longer served a purpose. You are ruthless, and you can do the unthinkable to achieve your goals."
A mischievous smile danced on Sydra's lips. "Tell me my feather did not temper you. Tell me you are not better for having worn the robes and laughed with purpose."
The ambassador grudgingly nodded. "Get me my casters, Sydra. Win me my war."
"I will do what I can," Sydra answered. "You are welcome to stay. You are welcome to be under my feather again, as is the young man next to you."
"You flatter us," the ambassador said with a cryptic smile. "We return immediately. Our country is at war. When the war is over, I will stay here a fortnight, and you may remind me of my time under your feather."
Sydra's laugh was as melodic as her voice. "I will look forward to that day, then, Elanora. Go, and you will have what you need in a moon's time."
The ambassador stood up, bowed and turned to leave the throne room. Herschel also bowed and followed. The ambassador was beautiful and moved with grace. She smiled warmly at Corina as she passed. Herschel's eyes grew wide as he saw her, and he quickly regained his stoic composure, walking past her without any further recognition.
Corina felt a strange pang at his recognition and then another at his nonchalant demeanor. She was surprised, but now her focus was on Mistress Sydra.
The gilded couch was taken away by servants, and Drash led Corina before Sydra. They stood at attention and bowed.
"Corina of Woodhaven," Sydra pronounced. Corina was surprised.
"No, I cannot read minds like your former mistress can," Sydra said, her voice melodious and dripping with charisma. "She sent a missive, which she very rarely does. She released you, which is rare in itself if you are what she claims you are. And she bothered to recommend you, which is unheard of. I have been expecting your arrival for weeks. What has kept you?"
"I met a few hurdles on the way, Mistress Sydra," Corina replied. "Some took more time to surmount than expected. Such is the way of the Mirthwood Forest."
"So it is," Sydra acknowledged. "I'm certain you've heard good things about me, and likely many worse things as well."
Corina nodded.
"I do not keep people here against their will," Sydra continued. "I am not like your former mistress. Not like the dwarven fanatics, or the vengeful centaurs, or the pesky pixies who roam these forests. Those who come here come of their own free will. They come seeking power, and that is something I have and can share. But I will tap it to meet my own ends and objectives."
"I will offer you a contract. A three-year contract. I will teach you, and you will supply me with magic. I will coerce it from you at my discretion or at my whim. It will matter not to you. If you learn well and have the innate skill, you will do my will without question, wherever and whenever I tell you. If you are not skilled enough, I will tap you and use you in my stable. The stable is a real thing, and people like Elanora can attest to it being a grueling experience. If you are what I hope you are, you will use the stable to fuel your own objectives."
"You can die in my service," Sydra stated plainly. "Many mages do. Either channeling forces they cannot control, or fighting wars, or furthering my agenda wherever and whenever I command. I will not sugarcoat anything. I offer unlocking power beyond your dreams, but it comes at a price."
"I do not need to test you," Sydra said, pulling a rolled scroll from her robe and standing from her throne. Her tail trailed behind her, the hairy, tufted tip moving gracefully. Her bare green feet walked silently and trod softly on the thick carpet.
Servants raced to place a small table between her and Corina. The scroll was unrolled and placed before Corina. The peacock feather in Sydra's hand converted into a quill, and she handed it to Corina. It was a simple contract. Her name was already filled in. The handwriting was elegant and beautiful, and the peacock quill was magical; she could feel its immense power.
"Sign, and we begin," Sydra said. Her horns, which should seem menacing, did not. She radiated charisma and power, but she did not seem a threat. Corina knew that meant she was exactly that.
Corina did not hesitate. She took the quill and signed her name.
The contract dissolved out of existence. The table was pulled away by servants, and Sydra took the quill from her hand, which reverted back to a feather.
"Splendid," Sydra said. "So we begin."
To be continued...
"The Awakened"
The next day, Zenobia's torture was especially thorough. She tickled the pair exhaustively until they were completely drained, their small bodies aching from the spasms of laughter and convulsive exhaustion.
"You need to be tired to keep you out of mischief," Zenobia said, her voice a low rumble. "Miss Nottle is not to be tickled ever. It is not lady-like to twist and turn and guffaw like some baboon. You little butterflies are different."
Completely drained, Corina and Arlene still found the strength to pull themselves off the boards each evening, reuniting in the drawer, a small island of safety. There, they would discuss their options. Without magic powerful enough to counter Zenobia's dreamscape and with no way to physically coerce the giantess, there seemed no possibility of escape. Their past attempts had shown them that Corina's magic alone would not be enough for them to persuade Zenobia to release them. It would require cunning and ingenuity.
Their determination led them to begin a meticulous search of the jars, specimens, and ingredients scattered around the inside of the cottage. Their small size made the task difficult for them to maneuver up tall and deep shelves. It was then that Corina's attention was drawn to a jar with a label in Zenobia's elegant, spidery handwriting:
"Basilisk Venom: HANDLE WITH CARE"
The jar itself was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, a delicate glass vial with a polished silver stopper. Inside, the venom was a thick, shimmering liquid that swirled with an oily sheen. It was a translucent, sickly green with tiny, almost imperceptible black motes that pulsed with a faint, malevolent light. It looked less like a liquid and more like a captured piece of pure, distilled malice.
Corina recalled Rika the kobold tinkerer mentioning that her claws were coated in basilik venom and it could paralyze without hindering sensitivity.
Arlene's eyes widened in horror. "We can't use that! If we poison her and she dies, we will be trapped here forever!"
"I'm certain it's not a fatal venom," Corina said, her voice a low, confident whisper. "A friend of mine uses it to coat her claws. It doesn't kill; it simply... subdues."
"How can you be certain?" Arlene asked, her voice trembling.
"There is only one way to find out," Corina decided.
With extreme caution, they collected the venom, emptying just enough into a thimble without touching the dangerous liquid. "We need to try the Basilisk Venom to confirm its effectiveness and to get the dose right," Corina said.
"Who's going to be the test subject?" Arlene asked.
"We could spin the coin on the table," Corina suggested, a slight challenge in her tone.
"It was your idea," Arlene countered. "Besides, you already tickled me in one of our experiments."
Corina nodded. "True. And it is my gamble that what my friend said about Basilisk Venom is true."
"How will we deliver it?" Arlene asked, still hesitant.
"Let's return to the drawer and figure these details out," Corina replied.
They returned with the thimble careful not to spill it on their way back. Corina thought for some time, her eyes scanning the drawer and the objects strewn around . She carefully extracted a fine splinter from the wooden floor of the drawer. After dipping the tip of the tiny splinter into the venom, she handed it to Arlene.
"Prick my hand with this," Corina said, holding out her hand.
"Are you sure about this?" Arlene asked. "I don't want to be out of friend in this wretched place."
"If we don't do something different," Corina said, "nothing is going to change. We need to try. I am willing to take the risk. Now prick me before I change my mind."
Arlene handled the splinter with extreme caution and carefully pricked the back of Corina's hand.
They looked at each other for a new minutes expecting a sudden effect.
"Did it work?" Arlene asked, watching expectantly.
"It takes a few seconds to reach the—" Corina said as her legs buckled under her. She lay motionless on the floor of the drawer. "I can talk," she said, her voice clear despite her limp body, "but that is all. Nothing more. I can't even move my head."
Arlene took wood elf's limp arm, pulled it up, and let it drop. It fell unceremoniously to the floor. Arlene then began poking and tickling her, and Corina laughed heartily, but her body could not move.
"It works!" Arlene declared, a hint of triumph and hope in her voice. "But how long does it last?"
"Keep tickling me until I regain movement, and we will know," Corina suggested.
Arlene played with Corina as if she were a rag doll. She lifted her arms and legs and let them fall limply with dull thuds. Arlene tickled intermittently and would probably confess she was having more fun than she ought to be having. She sat her up, rolled her over, pulled her spread-eagled, then curled her up in a ball. All the while, she continued tickling Corina's very ticklish body and eliciting helpless laughter.
"You're getting back at me for the time I tickled you for magic," Corina observed between laughs.
"Don't be absurd," Arlene said in a deadpan, serious tone. "This is a serious experiment. All for the sake of knowledge."
Movement finally returned, and Corina broke free of the basilisk venom's effect. She then tickled her friend back until Arlene laughed with her and surrendered.
"That's the amount of time we'll have to coerce her to release us," Corina declared. There was no way to count it down, but it seemed sufficient time to break the will of the giantess and have her release them from the dream.
Corina calculated the exact dosage needed based on her size and the size of Zenobia and began to formulate their plan. Arlene would deliver the venom on a large needle, as per Corina's instructions.
They had a good long sleep after. They were both confident it would be there last night in the hidden drawer.
* * * * * * * * * *
Corina and Arlene woke to find themselves back in their pinned positions, stretched out on the display board. Zenobia awoke as well, and for the rest of the day, she amused herself by tormenting her captive "butterflies."
"It’s all for your own good," the giantess chuckled, her voice a low rumble. "You will thank me for this one day."
Evening finally came, and with it, the captives' desperate hope for a final, terrifying night. Once the giantess grew tired of her games, she changed into her nightdress, extinguished the lamp, and climbed into her massive bed. Her enormous feet stuck out from under the covers, and soon, her deep, rumbling snores settled in.
It was time.
Without a moment's hesitation, the two captives wriggled off the board, tossing the pins haphazardly aside. They had no intention of ever using them again. Arlene held a needle with a single, crucial drop of Basilisk Venom on its point. With it, they would administer the poison.
They scaled the towering bedposts, making their way toward the only exposed part of their captor: her feet. Arlene drew the needle like a tiny sword, and with a grunt of effort, drove the tip into Zenobia's ankle.
The giantess let out a sudden, high-pitched squeal and bolted upright.
"What is this?" she demanded, her voice a thunderous bellow. "Mischievous butterflies! You are up to no good! I should have know, I should have guessed. I have other ideas for you now—I’ll pickle you both and store you in a jar!"
For a heart-stopping moment, Arlene and Corina trembled, wondering if they had just made a terrible mistake. But then Zenobia's knees buckled under her, and she fell back onto the bed with a massive groan.
"What have you done?" she shrieked, her voice laced with fear. "You've done something very bad! I will get back at you! You will both regret this day! What have you done!?"
Corina and Arlene exchanged a look and a shared, grim nod. They would not hesitate. They each began their assault on a foot, scrambling up Zenobia's soles, their hands and feet working with a manic relish to find every sensitive spot between her toes and down to her heels. This was their revenge.
Zenobia screamed and thrashed. "No, no, no! Don't touch me! Not my feet! Stop this madness!"
With Zenobia immobilized by the venom, they could move freely. A rush of magic coursed through Corina's veins, but she ignored it, focused only on her task. She thought of Sarantha and her ruthless methods, knowing that overwhelming this giantess with an attack she had likely never experienced was the only way to break her.
Corina crawled up Zenobia's nightdress, making sure to leave a trail of torturous ticklish sensations. She reached the giantess's stomach, tripping and tumbling into the deep hollow of her navel. Making the best of the fall, she purposefully dug her fingers in, eliciting a loud gasp from Zenobia. She continued her ascent, past her stomach and up her chest. Corina couldn't properly dig into her ribs, but she found a sensitive spot in the fold between the ribs and her towering breasts, ensuring Zenobia's screams intensified.
"Release us, and this ends!" Corina demanded as she emerged between the breasts and faced her tomertor, her voice echoing with resolve. "We can keep this up for hours, or even days if we need to!"
"No!" Zenobia cried, tears streaming down her face. "Never! You are my butterflies! You must obey me!"
Corina reached Zenobia's neck and ears, resuming her merciless assault. The giantess's protests dissolved into a frantic mixture of laughter, guffaws, and sobs. Corina continued to press her advantage, now speaking with Sarantha’s dominating tone.
"I said, release us!"
Finally, exhausted and utterly broken by the unaccustomed ticklish assault, Zenobia surrendered.
"I release you! I release you both!" she sobbed. "Just stop! Stop, please! You can leave the dream!"
"You will give us back our clothes and all our gear," Corina demanded, her voice unwavering. "And you will put us on our way out of the dream. Today."
"I agree! I agree!" Zenobia shrieked desperately. "It will be so!"
With that, Corina waved down at Arlene, who was still at the foot of the bed, and the tickling ceased.
* * * * * * * * * *
It was just in time. A few moments later, the giantess Zenobia regained her movement. She honored her word and regarded them with a grudging respect, the harsh lines of her face softened by a hint of a smile.
She returned their belongings from a heavy, iron-bound chest. Arlene was first to reclaim her gear, a confident grin spreading across her face as she donned her wide-brimmed hat, long leather boots, and buckled her rapier at her hip. She once again looked the part of a formidable swordswoman.
Corina sighed in relief as she slipped back into the comforting folds of her robes. Now dressed, she felt both confident and grounded once more.
Zenobia walked with them back into the glade, the earth trembling with each step. Corina and Arlene felt the blades of grass shrink around them as the giantess moved through the glade. By the time they reached the edge, the world was obscured by a thick, swirling fog. As the magic of the glade released its hold, Zenobia began to shrink, until she was the same height as the two companions.
"Fly away, little butterflies!" she declared, her voice now normal rather than a loud rumble. "May we never meet again in this realm." With a final nod, she turned and vanished into the fog.
Arlene turned and embraced Corina. "I could not have done it without you, Corina," the swordswoman said, her voice full of genuine gratitude. "If our paths cross again, I hope I can return the favor."
Corina returned the hug. "I could not have done it alone, either," she replied. "May our friendship continue beyond this dream."
They turned and walked back into the dense fog. The world around them began to melt away, the ground dissolving into nothingness and the air shimmering like a mirage until there was nothing left but a swirling vortex of color.
* * * * * * * * * *
Corina's eyelids fluttered open, heavy as lead. A familiar face, etched with worry, swam into view above her. Rika, the kobold tinkerer, was peering down at her, her usually bright, inquisitive eyes clouded with concern.
"I didn't think you would wake," Rika said, her voice a low murmur, surprisingly gentle.
Corina's throat felt dry, her voice a rasp. "How long have I slept?"
Rika sighed. "A week longer than I. I do not know how long I slept before that. Thisdraeda, she still dreams." Rika gestured with her chin towards a small, sturdy form curled on a makeshift bed of moss and dried leaves beside them.
Corina turned her head, her vision slowly sharpening. There lay Thisdraeda, the dwarf, snoring softly. Her normally stern face was peaceful, framed by strands of flaxen hair. She looked utterly lost in slumber, undisturbed by the world around them.
"How long do you figure she will remain in the dream?" Corina asked, a tremor of unease in her voice. The memory of Zenobia's dreamscape was still vivid, a lingering chill.
Rika shrugged, a gesture that seemed too large for her small frame. "You escaped. I escaped. She is resourceful. But she did drink two bottles of those ancient dwarven spirits, and we only drank one. Your guess is as good as mine."
Corina closed her eyes for a moment, remembering the overwhelming sensation of being trapped, the crushing weight of Zenobia's will. "It was not easy to escape my dream," she confessed. "And in mine, I had help."
"As I did in mine," Rika said, her voice unusually flat, offering no further detail about her own ordeal. The unspoken horrors of their individual dreamscapes hung heavy in the air between them.
Rika then nudged Corina gently. "You should go," she urged, her voice gaining a sense of urgency. "Mistress Sydra of Glee is near. You can continue on your way, and I will wait for Thisdraeda. Be it a day, a week, or whatever time it takes for her to awaken from her spirit dream."
"Are you certain?" Corina asked, her gaze lingering on the peacefully sleeping dwarf.
Rika nodded, her resolve hardening. "I will begin to make plans while she sleeps. A tinkerer never wastes time." A spark of her usual mischievous ingenuity seemed to return to her eyes. "Go and may you have good fortune with Mistress Sydra."
Corina gave Rika a grateful hug and patted Thisdraeda on the back as she slept.
"Best of fortunes for you both," Corina said as she stood to leave.
* * * * * * * * * *
Following the directions given by Agatha, Corina continued through the forest with a growing sense of confidence. She was certain the path would lead her to Mistress Sydra of Glee.
She came upon four heavily armored knights bearing longswords and shields. Their polished armor, which was the color of old gold, was familiar to Corina; it was the same as that worn by Herschel, the Evergold knight she had tickled and released. The knights stood in a loose circle, seemingly waiting for someone to return. She watched them for some time, their quiet conversation focused and intent.
Deciding to approach, she stepped from the cover of the trees. The knights turned as one, their movements surprisingly quick, and held their shields and swords at the ready.
"Who goes there?" one of the knights demanded, his sword tip aimed directly at her.
"Corina, a wood elf," she replied calmly.
"State your business," he said curtly. He was an older knight with grey hair and wrinkled on the sides of his eyes.
"I am looking for Sydra of Glee," she explained. "I've been searching for some time and don't know where she is."
The knight lowered his sword and gestured with his head to a petrified tree behind him. A small door was set into its trunk, with the word GLEE engraved above it. "Look no farther, little one."
Corina's eyes widened. "That's Glee?" she asked, incredulous.
He nodded gravely. "I would suggest you turn away and go somewhere else. Nothing good will come of your association with that woman."
"I’ve come to learn magic," she said simply.
He scoffed. "They all do. I won't stop you, but you have my advice, for whatever it's worth. I'm an old knight, but I’ve seen many of Lady Sydra's students. It is not something I would want for my daughter."
"She trains them well, does she not?" Corina pressed.
The old knight nodded. "That she does, and they are the very best. But at what price, and to what end?"
"Sir Bennet!" a voice scolded from the tree's door. "Tsk, tsk. You shouldn't scare away the apprentices, especially when your lady is in audience with my mistress, looking to secure more battle mages for your war."
A man in a flowing green robe emerged. He was a human with long, dark hair and large, wire-framed spectacles. He looked at Corina, and his face instantly went white.
"You!" he gasped, his voice tight with surprise.
"Drash!" Corina exclaimed, her eyes narrowing in recognition. "You left me tied up in the forest and took my gear."
"You did that to this young lady?" Sir Bennet said, his eyes narrowing in a sharp, judgmental glare.
"She's no young lady, Sir Bennet. She's older than your grandmother, I assure you," Drash stammered, blood rushing to his face. "She was fine. I left her with her dagger and she was close to home. I was the one in danger!"
Both Sir Bennet and the other knights looked at him in disbelief.
"She's here, isn't she?" Drash said defensively. "All's well that ends well, right?"
"If you would permit it, Lady Corina," Sir Bennet offered, his hand resting on his sword hilt, "I will be happy to put a rightful thrashing on young Drash. I am certain Lady Sydra would not oppose it."
Drash gulped audibly.
"Thank you, Sir Bennet," Corina replied, a slight smirk on her face. "But Drash is right. In the end, it all worked out for the best. I am here, and I will apprentice with Lady Sydra."
Sir Bennet nodded, a look of respect in his eyes. "You seem the resourceful sort," he said. "I wish you luck, though I wish more that you would heed my warning."
"I appreciate your concern," Corina said, bowing her head slightly. "Best of luck to you and yours, noble knight."
Drash, clearly relieved, led Corina through the door.
* * * * * * * * * *
"Sir Bennet would have given me a thrashing," Drash said nervously. "He's not one to make idle threats, and he's very familiar with mages. No way I'd have cast a spell in time. Besides, Sydra would be more likely to side with him than to side with me."
"You did abandon me," she stated plainly. They passed through the door, and it opened into a vast, sprawling hall that in no way matched the small size of the petrified tree. It was a space warped by powerful magic.
"For a good cause!" he rebutted, gesturing wildly. "I needed every last one of your rations to survive, to brave the spiders, the dwarves, and every other cursed thing in this forsaken forest."
At the inner door stood two hulking trolls with long iron claws. They were a menacing sight.
"She's with me," Drash said, and the trolls gave a single, slow nod, their heavy gazes returning to their post.
"You're lucky," he explained as they walked. "When I arrived, there was barely a space for one apprentice. It took some clever maneuvering to secure a spot with Mistress Sydra. You might have made it, but I would have won. I’m quicker on the draw."
"You got lucky, but you did cast a heartbeat faster," she admitted begrudgingly.
"Now, with Mistress Sydra needing more mages for the Evergold's war," he said, a triumphant look on his face, "you should be a shoo-in. You see? It worked out for both of us!"
Corina wasn't fully convinced.
"Friends?" he asked, holding out a hand.
She shook it reluctantly.
"Please don't mention me abandoning you to Mistress Sydra," he pleaded. "She's a bit like Sir Bennet. They seem nice, but they both have short fuses."
Corina looked around, taking in dozens of robed mages moving through the hall. Their robes were a vibrant tapestry of colors: white, yellow, green, and purple.
"You can't wear purple here," Drash whispered, noticing her stare. "That's the highest level. Beginners wear white. But you haven't been accepted yet, so take off your robe for the audience," he suggested.
Corina sighed, but complied, pulling off her robes to reveal her green silk tunic and brown trousers.
"We're going straight to the throne room," he said, placing her robe into a cloth bag and handing it back. "She’s in audience with the ambassador from Evergold. Be silent, and she'll see you when they're done."
The air in the throne room was thick with the scent of exotic incense and a faint, sweet aroma that Corina couldn't place. It wasn't until she was ushered forward, past elegant mages in colorful silk robes, that she saw the source of the fragrance.
Seated upon a high, carved throne was a being of undeniable power and grace: Mistress Sydra. Her skin was a deep, verdant green, a color that seemed both natural and impossible. From her forehead curved two dark, elegant horns, and a thin, muscular tail, tipped with a small tuft of fur, swayed gently behind her. She was barefoot, her slender feet adorned with delicate silver anklets.
Her face was a study in contradictions. Her eyes, a bright, captivating green, sparkled with an almost childlike mischief, and her lips were curled into a sly, knowing smile that hinted at secrets. Yet, under her left eye, a dark red tattoo, shaped like a stylized, jagged tear, was etched into her skin. It was the only blemish on an otherwise perfect visage. Her garb was a riot of color, a queen's robe made of flowing silks in shades of emerald, gold, and deep purple. It was luxurious but not constricting, moving with a liquid grace that mirrored her own. In her hand, she twirled a single peacock feather with a casual elegance that sent a shiver down Corina’s spine. The title "Mistress of Glee" made sense now. She wasn’t a jester. She was a queen, and her court, her followers, were all part of an extension of her will.
On a gilded couch nearby, a beautiful human woman in her sixties sat with a tall knight standing behind her. The ambassador of Evergold had the poised elegance of a diplomat and the weathered wisdom of a queen. Her silver-streaked hair was pinned in a tasteful chignon, and her fine silk robes, in the deep red and gold of Evergold, were the height of fashion. Her face, beautiful beyond her years, bore the fine lines of age and experience. She had a striking presence that commanded respect without needing to be loud. The knight behind her was Herschel, his polished armor gleaming under the light.
"I need battle mages and I need them now," the ambassador stated, her voice a low, firm demand that cut through the silence. "I have gold in abundance and I can pay."
"It is not a matter of gold," Sydra said, her melodious voice carrying throughout the throne room. "Casters of the caliber you require are born, not made. There are limits to what I can provide, even with a mountain of gold."
"Unlike any of the knights and soldiers fighting our war," the ambassador countered, a flash of fire in her eyes, "I have been under your feather. I have been tickled ruthlessly for magic, discarded on a whim, and discharged when I no longer served a purpose. You are ruthless, and you can do the unthinkable to achieve your goals."
A mischievous smile danced on Sydra's lips. "Tell me my feather did not temper you. Tell me you are not better for having worn the robes and laughed with purpose."
The ambassador grudgingly nodded. "Get me my casters, Sydra. Win me my war."
"I will do what I can," Sydra answered. "You are welcome to stay. You are welcome to be under my feather again, as is the young man next to you."
"You flatter us," the ambassador said with a cryptic smile. "We return immediately. Our country is at war. When the war is over, I will stay here a fortnight, and you may remind me of my time under your feather."
Sydra's laugh was as melodic as her voice. "I will look forward to that day, then, Elanora. Go, and you will have what you need in a moon's time."
The ambassador stood up, bowed and turned to leave the throne room. Herschel also bowed and followed. The ambassador was beautiful and moved with grace. She smiled warmly at Corina as she passed. Herschel's eyes grew wide as he saw her, and he quickly regained his stoic composure, walking past her without any further recognition.
Corina felt a strange pang at his recognition and then another at his nonchalant demeanor. She was surprised, but now her focus was on Mistress Sydra.
The gilded couch was taken away by servants, and Drash led Corina before Sydra. They stood at attention and bowed.
"Corina of Woodhaven," Sydra pronounced. Corina was surprised.
"No, I cannot read minds like your former mistress can," Sydra said, her voice melodious and dripping with charisma. "She sent a missive, which she very rarely does. She released you, which is rare in itself if you are what she claims you are. And she bothered to recommend you, which is unheard of. I have been expecting your arrival for weeks. What has kept you?"
"I met a few hurdles on the way, Mistress Sydra," Corina replied. "Some took more time to surmount than expected. Such is the way of the Mirthwood Forest."
"So it is," Sydra acknowledged. "I'm certain you've heard good things about me, and likely many worse things as well."
Corina nodded.
"I do not keep people here against their will," Sydra continued. "I am not like your former mistress. Not like the dwarven fanatics, or the vengeful centaurs, or the pesky pixies who roam these forests. Those who come here come of their own free will. They come seeking power, and that is something I have and can share. But I will tap it to meet my own ends and objectives."
"I will offer you a contract. A three-year contract. I will teach you, and you will supply me with magic. I will coerce it from you at my discretion or at my whim. It will matter not to you. If you learn well and have the innate skill, you will do my will without question, wherever and whenever I tell you. If you are not skilled enough, I will tap you and use you in my stable. The stable is a real thing, and people like Elanora can attest to it being a grueling experience. If you are what I hope you are, you will use the stable to fuel your own objectives."
"You can die in my service," Sydra stated plainly. "Many mages do. Either channeling forces they cannot control, or fighting wars, or furthering my agenda wherever and whenever I command. I will not sugarcoat anything. I offer unlocking power beyond your dreams, but it comes at a price."
"I do not need to test you," Sydra said, pulling a rolled scroll from her robe and standing from her throne. Her tail trailed behind her, the hairy, tufted tip moving gracefully. Her bare green feet walked silently and trod softly on the thick carpet.
Servants raced to place a small table between her and Corina. The scroll was unrolled and placed before Corina. The peacock feather in Sydra's hand converted into a quill, and she handed it to Corina. It was a simple contract. Her name was already filled in. The handwriting was elegant and beautiful, and the peacock quill was magical; she could feel its immense power.
"Sign, and we begin," Sydra said. Her horns, which should seem menacing, did not. She radiated charisma and power, but she did not seem a threat. Corina knew that meant she was exactly that.
Corina did not hesitate. She took the quill and signed her name.
The contract dissolved out of existence. The table was pulled away by servants, and Sydra took the quill from her hand, which reverted back to a feather.
"Splendid," Sydra said. "So we begin."
To be continued...
