Sorcerer from Another World

Morgana smiled in turn. We were quiet after that. I dozed under Iris’s gentle head pats. Umbra chatted with Tara outside, their muffled voice barely audible. Morgana bit her lip and seemed lost in her thoughts. Tulisa served the bowls of soup and after the tasty meal, if not near as good as Iris’ it filled my belly. 

Perhaps Iris could cook and Tulisa give me head pats next time? That would be even better than this already perfect moment.  

I existed in that daydream. An appreciation for the current moment and a hopeful dream of an even better future. I felt happy. 

It was out of boredom as much as anything that started creating bending the metal for the warriors. I made weapons and armour stronger than any they had known before. I did not make them equal to Morgana’s or even Galen’s. They were better than any other, but Morgana’s armour would hold under their strikes.  

My eyes were closed and imagined their construction. I started with the swords. One after the other. I crafted axes and spears as well. Options. Crossbows with thirty bolts each. I took my time and four sets took maybe an hour along with some chainmail shirts. Standardised, effective equipment. 

When the warriors were later brought back, I shook each of their hands and wished them luck in the days to come. I made any alteration needed for them to wear their equipment comfortably. Any pain, illness or disease that I could mitigate or cure I did. 

By the last warrior, I was once again running on fumes. I had plenty of magic to spare, but the constant effort seemed to leave me feeling drained and tired regardless. 

I sat outside with Iris. My head rested on her lap and she hummed a sweet tune I knew not the name of. I had my eyes closed and Iris sang with her little Robin. They talked softly in the language of birds, but I understood none of it. I napped and dreamed of shifting vision. 

Some were violent as the branches of the Yewam came crashing down to skewer me. Some gentle with a woman of auburn hair dancing with a robin that flew above her. The final one was someone who looked familiar and lay still in a bed of flowers that grew over her naked body.  

I awoke to Iris’s still humming under her breath as her Robin flew off again. 

Meanwhile, Morgana met with groups of people from Yolin’s hill. Each of whom gave their thanks to me before entering the roundhouse. They gave their thanks again upon leaving. 

“What is she talking to them about?” I asked Iris.

“Our Warrior Queen, who has protested at every turn about becoming something other than a simple witch, is making allies and placing herself at the forefront of the community.”

“Huh.”

“In her own words, she will never have as much sway over the people of Ferisdarm as Galen does. But, the people of Yolin’s Hill owe their lives to us.” She pointed to a new group who bowed before me. “Some are even worshipping you. They call you the Resurrected One. Among them the most passionate seem to believe that the time of the Fae is passing, and the time of Sorcery has begun. No longer will we be divided between the courts but united under one rule.” 

“My responsibility is to protect you. Not rule over a people.”

“It is nonsense, you are the prize I summoned.” We share a passionate kiss. “But I understand their adoration.” 

As the last of Yolin’s Hill folk left, Iris and I returned inside. 

Morgana looked me up and down, “I had one more meeting, but if you need to rest I can cancel.”

Before I could answer. A group walked in. Some were sweat and soot stained and  others looked to be wearing their finest garbs. 

Morgana glanced at me and I whispered, “I’m fine.”

She gave a short nod and turned to the new folks, “Welcome to my humble home. Thank you all for coming here on short notice.”

Many of them I noted cast baleful eyes on me. 

I gulped at their animosity. What had I done to them?

“I take it that all those shiny warriors outside are your work.” spat one of them.

“Don’t be jealous, Boris. It is the finest work I’ve ever seen. Though it lacks beauty, I doubt there is better metal anywhere.” chuckled another. 

“Why so jolly? Our smiths are ruined with these new weapons and armour. They can’t compete! How are we supposed to feed our families?”

Morgana raised a hand “That is neither here nor there while Ferisdarm is surrounded by Unseelie. We are all in the same position. Now I have heard tale that some among you mean harm to the Saviour of Ferisdarm.” 

“It was Galen who slew the Yewam. I talked with a warrior who was there. Don’t you go taking the credit, Magic man.” one of the smiths accused. 

I said nothing.

“The metalworker and blacksmiths of Ferisdarm we mean you no harm. It was a sword that he made that Galen wields. Sorcerer Grey is providing the very tools we all need to survive. Do you understand?”

They scoffed, “The weapons and armour from our families have served well for generations. Why should they not now?”

“We stand on the edge of the abyss. Only by banding together can we all make it to tomorrow.” Morgana said. “I wish to bring no trouble to my cousin nor see any feud between us. I ask you to see the bigger picture.”

It was unfortunate that her good intentions so poorly missed the mark of the smiths' desires. Further still, she glared at them and had a sword in her hand. 

They argued after that. For too long until a splitting headache formed and my patience grew thin. Iris stood up and seemed to grow before my eyes to the height of a bear. She shooed them out.  

Morgana sighed as she drummed her fingers on the hilt of her sword. 

“That could have gone better.” She said with a glazed stare. 

Iris flashed her a warm smile, “You tried your best.”

“You did.” I said.

Iris walked over and picked up a hairbrush, “It’s not your fault.” 

“It is mine.” I said.

“You have done the right thing. Given our warriors a fighting chance and saved every life in this damn place twice over.” She leaned back as Iris started to comb her hair. “For the people of Yolin’s Hill many more times still.”

“I know. But no good deed goes unpunished.” 

“So, I am learning.” Morgana said with a half smile. 

Iris smoothed Morgana’s raven hair. She massaged her temples and shoulders. Morgana melted under her touch. She moaned. It was quiet, and to my mind erotic enough to make my breath quicken. 

“Master.” Tulisa said in my ear. 

I looked and was trapped by her blue eyes. At a moment’s pull, my senses were enraptured not by my lovers but by our maid. The needful warmth and lust centring her gaze on me banished years of loneliness from my mind. It was amazing what one hot glance did to wet my appetite.   

She ‘tripped’ and fell into my lap. Her round belly on my lap and my ‘wand’ rose to the occasion and poked her ribs. She slipped down my thighs and I stabbed my wand between her heavy breasts. 

Red as sunrise she held the pose long enough to look up and say, “Sorry, Master,” with a teasing smile. 

Before I could calculate a reply, she somehow ended up sitting on my lap so my ‘wand’ was strained against her ass cheeks. Her back pressed against my chest and she tilted her head back. Our eyes met again and we stared at one another. I did not have the courage to speak, nor could I think of words to say. I groaned at the pleasure of feeling her soft, heavy body. 

She stood up and I got an eyeful for her clothes-clad, shapely ass. She turned on the spot and bowed low before she dashed away as fast as she could at walking pace. 

Morgana was too distracted to notice, but Iris sent a wink in my direction. 

Was that approval? Were we in an open relationship? How open?  

My mind was a muddle of Iris, Morgana and Tulisa. Their eyes, the shape of Iris’s face cheek, the content pleasure on Morgana’s face, the feel and shape of Tulisa’s bum, the warmth and tightness of Morgana and Iris during sex. My thoughts wandered back to the battle against the Yewam and then to my lovers and maid. The texture and heat of the lips and the feel of wet, insistent tongues in my mouth.  

Morgana went to work again, but on what I did not know or care. I drank tea and chatted with Iris. I learned the little things about her. How she preferred the simple dandelion over her namesake flower. How she adored the red leaves of autumn. She told me how she first met her Robin. It was a delight to hear her voice and listen to her story.  

The day, however, was not yet over.