Lauren Crowe and the Case of the
Fairy's Fate
By Marcus Lycus
(Marcus_Lycus@hotmail.com)
Legal Horrors: Characters and text are
copyright Marcus Lycus. Do not repost this story without my permission.
This story is meant for people over the
age of 18, please don't read it if you are younger than that. Any resemblance
between characters in this story and any actual persons living or dead is
purely coincidental of course. Especially Lady Lauren Crowe, she's like 100%
original and totally not based on any video game characters. (Please don't
sue me!)
And finally, please e-mail me with any
comments, complaints or suggestions. Remember feedback leads to more stories!
Marcus Lycus
September 2005
Chapter 2 - A Walk in the
Woods
The Fairy sang.
She sang of beauty and of life and joy and
of spring. She sang to the trees and to the flowers and to the birds to the
air itself. The forest around her sang in return, thanking Arial for her
efforts.
Everything was in balance. Everything was
right.
The fairy had no age. She was ancient, she
had been born eons ago with this forest. She was a child, she had been reborn
each spring. To a mortal she
appeared as a young girl just entering the full bloom of her womanhood. By
autumn she would appear as an aged crone. That was the way of things. This
time she was known as Arial Morning Glory (if her name were translated into
a human tongue). In the past she had had other names, but in this time that
is who she was.
She sang to her brothers and sisters and
each year fewer of them sang back. This made her sad but she could do little.
There was only one constant rule in the world it is that things change. From
the smallest insect to the mightiest oak all things will fall in time. Even
immortals.
As the sun came over the trees Arial spread
her dragonfly wings and took flight over her domain. It was a little smaller
this spring, more trees had fallen to the cold iron of men and been turned
into their tame fields.
She landed in her favorite pool, submerged
beneath the cool waters and then flew
upwards. Her thin green garment
clung to her every curve. Though human in form, Arial was by no means human
in every regard. Her arms and legs were much longer in proportion to her
slim body. Her body was long and thin as well but curved in all the proper
places. But the real difference was to be seen in her face; the long almond
shaped eyes, the violet irises, the long flowing green hair that stretched
down to her thighs and the two thin antenna that grew from the corners of
her eyes. But her beauty was such that no observer would ever be disturbed
by such details; the few men who had seen her had fallen at her feet begging
for permission to gaze upon her.
A few had died of
starvation.
A sound disturbed her thoughts. Something
watched, something not of her realm. She spun her head to catch sight of
the intruder but it vanished swiftly in a flutter of black
wings.
***
That night Bridgett was extra diligent in
setting up her protective circle not even bothering to hide her preparations
from Lauren or to react to her caustic barbs. As Running Deer hunted down
dinner Bridgett pleaded with her mistress not to risk
herself.
"Please m'lady, can you not feel it? There
is something dark out there, darker than a coalmine at midnight and you will
not be safe outside of camp! Think of what happened last
night!"
"I suppose Bridgett you would have me ride
home in terror now and hide beneath my covers? We're both a bit old for ghost
stories don't you think?"
"But m'lady, do you not recall the Case of
the Spectral Manor? After that how can you dismiss talk of ghost
stories?"
"Bridgett, those things we saw were just
smoke and mirrors. Did I not prove it was part of a plan by old Mrs. Witherspoon
to scare people off the land so she could buy it cheaply? And those things
we felt..."
Lauren's mind strayed back to that strange
evening when unseen hands groped her heaving bosom, strange forces levitated
her above the bed rotating her slowly and something unseen but quite familiar
probed between her legs. That had been a long, hot, pleasant night. She shook
her head at the memory and the strange feelings it always aroused.
"...the er, things we felt were just the
power of suggestion. Nothing more. I am certain of that."
"M'lady-"
"Tut, tut Bridgett..." Lauren placed her
index finger over her companion's quivering lips. "I promise I will do nothing
incautious tonight if you will cease these children's tales. Honestly, sometimes
you sound as ignorant as that savage Running Deer."
After the sun set a cold thick mist appeared
seeming to start just outside the light of the campfire making everything
gray and indistinct. Even Lauren had no desire to spend the night outside
in that. The three women bedded down to sleep.
"Lauren... come to
me..."
"Pardon?" She sat up in her
bedroll.
"...come...I have found her for
you..."
Lauren looked left and right. Bridgett's
snores were clearly audible and Running Deer too seemed to be in a deep sleep.
Who was calling?
She rose to her feet neglecting to don her
boots or put something over her thin nightshirt. She had left her long dark
hair down, her customary braid was uncomfortable to sleep in, she brushed
it from her eyes.
"...this way..."
Someone in the mist?
She walked towards the voice, away from the
firelight, away from Bridgett's protective circle and into the chilling
fog.
The cold hit her instantly soaking through
her shirt exposing her erect nipples, large brown areolas, well-defined abdomen
and neatly trimmed bush. Many Englishmen would have paid a fortune to see
that sight. Unfortunately none
of them were present. But someone was.
"The Count... But how?" Lauren asked. Her
voice was distant as if she was in a daze. The tall count was standing in
the middle of the uncharted forest wearing nothing but a pair of black breeches
and a long black cape. It seemed... odd, but Lauren could not quite find
the words to voice her questions.
"It matters not my huntress. I bring you
tidings of your prey. You must go towards the lake to the northwest. You
must be there at dawn, leave immediately. Be ready for your
prey."
"Yes... I understand..."
"And you must remember who you are, a woman
of reason. You are hunting an animal, nothing more. And any who say
different..."
"...are ignorant savages" she
completed.
"Yes, excellent, excellent. I knew you would
be my perfect huntress."
He looked again at her, his thin blood turning
hot. The count's eyes narrowed in thought. He knew he should not, it was
too soon, the others would know.
But...
He looked at her breasts rising and falling
under the transparent wet shirt. He looked longer. His teeth began to sharpen
and grow.
Oh what the hell, surely even the Irish witch
would not notice a small taste.
He stepped closer to her warm body and embraced
the unresisting Victorian lady. As his arms engulfed her Lauren changed from
merely unresisting to eager, kissing the count's bare chest, her own arms
embracing his pallid skin. He opened his mouth wide baring the needle like
teeth and sank them into her warm neck.
The heroic adventuress convulsed under him
gasping in undisguised pleasure. It was the noise that made him stop. While
the woman was truly delicious he still needed her and her companions to stalk
the prey. Afterwards of course... things would be
different.
He wondered how long this Lauren Crowe would
last before fading to little more than a pale ghost of her former self. He
had no thoughts of turning her, he had tasted the woman and seen her iron
will (however blinded by her faith in science it was). The count had no desire
to face her as a peer.
***
Bridgett's eyes opened wide. She could feel
it. The proverbial 'something wicked this way comes'. She looked around,
she could see Running Deer's chest rising and falling steadily but Lauren's
bedroll had been abandoned!
She groped for her grimoire struggling to
remember a spell of banishment. She had just found the right diagram when
the figure entered the camp, it was Lady Crowe. She wore her nightshirt but
the dampness made it an obscene garment, Bridgett could see her mistress'
hips swaying under the shirt as if she were some Paris
streetwalker.
"M'lady?" She asked bewildered. "Where did
you-"
Crowe's withering glance silenced her. "I
do not think it is any of your business where I go to answer the call of
nature."
Bridgett blushed; it had been nothing after
all. "No m'lady of course not..."
"Now wake up Running Deer, I believe I know
where we will find our prey."
Across the camp Running Deer watched the
scene through narrowed eyes.
***
Arial sang again, this time her songs were
tinged with a melancholy sadness. Two of her protectors had fallen to the
cold metal weapons of man and even now a great evil walked freely in her
forest.
She was not afraid, even a creature empowered
by death was no match for her here. But she was saddened. The balance of
things had been disturbed.
Once again she flew over the forest with
the dawn, awakening the trees and joining the birds in their song as they
greeted another day. She flew low over her favorite lake greeting the fish
and the lilies. She dove down to the bottom and ascended straight up into
the air, hovering above the cool pond letting the water drip from
her.
Then she felt them.
Humans.
Three of them, two positively glowing with
life, the other touched by darkness. But only touched. The poor mortal could
still be healed.
She turned in midair and began to walk across
the lake towards them, her thin wings vibrating swiftly to support
her.
She opened her mouth to sing a song of healing
and help the poor shadowed mortal.
She heard a twang.
She cried out as cold iron entered her bare
shoulder.
Her wings stopped.
She screamed.
She fell on her back into the water and did
not move.
***
"Got her!" Crowe cried raising her crossbow.
"What a magnificent specimen!"
Next to her Bridgett opened and closed her
mouth in horror. Tears fell freely down her cheeks. A fairy! It had been
so, so beautiful. Now it was... dead?
Running Deer took a step back glaring at
her companion with disgust. She fingered her tomahawk.
Crowe slapped her friend's behind, pushing
her forward. "Go on Bridgett, get it. You too Running Deer. I'll get out
the chains." Crowe started walking back towards the
horses.
The two others looked at each other and at
the floating body before them. They saw a wing twitch.
Bridgett and Running Deer ran into the water.
The Indian warrior woman cradled the mystical
creature in her arms. The winged woman was surprisingly light. Bridgett carefully
removed the barbed iron crossbow bolt from her shoulder and bound the wound
with a strip from her own skirt. The fairy's large violet eyes fluttered
open. She smiled weakly at the bright-spirited women who had saved her from
the pain of cold iron. Running Deer laid her out on the soft
grass.
"Ah! Capital job you two!" Crowe stepped
over Bridgett, reached down and locked an iron collar on her captive. The
fairy screamed and convulsed. Running Deer jumped back, her tomahawk already
in her hand.
Seemingly unconcerned Crowe continued to
bind the fairy locking iron bands around its wrists and ankles connected
by chains. "Still alive I see, capital, capital. I tried just to wound it.
Bridgett will you hold it still please? Bridgett? Oh never mind, I'll just
gag it myself." She silenced the creature with a leather gag and stood up.
She noted her friend's fighting stance. "Oh don't worry Running Deer, this
creature can't harm us, these chains would hold a rampaging
gorilla."
"Brave Crow... can you be blind?" She sniffed
in Crowe's direction and wrinkled her nose. "Are you even
yourself?"
"Pardon? Well of course I'm myself Running
Deer, who else would I be? In
fact I feel more clear-headed than ever! Now help me get this creature on
the horse and let's start heading back."
Running Deer looked at Crowe standing proud
and imperious over her captive. She looked at Bridgett sobbing uncontrollably
at the sight of the bound fairy. She looked at the graceful spirit bound
in hard iron. Her eyes narrowed, she turned on her heel and walked towards
her steed.
"Running Deer? Running Deer? Where are you
going?"
She heard hoof beats from the
path.
"Running Deer?"
The hoof beats
disappeared.
"Humph. Temperamental savage. Well I'm sure
she'll be back. Now come Bridgett, we have many miles to
go."
***
Lauren swore like a sailor for the rest of
the day. Bridgett was completely useless; crying like a lovesick girl and
demanding that Crowe release the specimen. The specimen too was a nuisance,
it just lay like a sack of potatoes draped across the back of Bridgett's
horse and falling frequently (Crowe made the Irish servant walk of course,
it was only fitting).
Even this accursed forest seemed to turn
against her, branches seemed to jump out to lash her across the face. Roots
rose out of nowhere in an attempt to trip her steed. Biting insects of all
sorts bedeviled her; a colony of red ants somehow entered her riding breaches
forcing her to strip and conduct a painful and humiliating hunt across her
bare legs.
She barely traveled three miles before the
sun set again.
Bridgett could not find the energy to set
a protective circle. How could she work magic after aiding in this... crime?
Instead she opened her grimoire and began to study by firelight. The fairy
had been bound to a tree, more iron chains draped around it and the trunk.
It was still gagged. Bridgett had seen Crowe wearing the keys on a chain
under her linen shirt.
Another cold fog rolled in, this time blanketing
the camp.
Without a word Crowe stepped out into the
fog.
Bridgett felt her heart flutter, did she
dare to do it? She looked again at the bound fairy, so beautiful, so innocent,
in so much pain. Did she dare not?
***
In the fog Crowe could hear the sounds of
battle. Animal growls and the twang of crossbows, the flapping of leather
wings. It seemed to be close and all around.
She saw the count waiting for her in a clearing.
His cloak was torn and a wolf-like creature lay dead at his feet. Other shadowy
figures lurked in the fog behind him. He smiled at her. She smiled back and
began unbuttoning her shirt.
***
Bridgett steeled herself.
She had faced horrors before. Evil creatures
from the depths of a nightmare. But this was different. She was defying the
woman she... respected more than any other, a woman she had idolized her
entire life, a friend who had saved her life more times than she could count.
A woman she had trusted implicitly.
But Crowe was wrong. This was wrong. This
was monstrous.
She found the correct page and moved closer
to the fairy. The dryad's violet eyes were wet with tears of pain and of
gratitude. Bridgett recited the words of power from her book and touched
the ankle cuffs, they sprang open.
She started the chant again, gesturing towards
the fairy's thin wrists.
Her chant was cut off by a cold blade touching
her neck and a strong hand in her hair.
"What's all this then?"
"M'lady... I..."
"I can see quite clearly Bridgett. More clearly
than ever before." Crowe took her hand from Bridgett's hair and locked the
fairy's ankle cuffs again.
"I don't know why you decided to defy me
girl but rest assured it will not be tolerated again. Do I make myself clear?"
Crowe pulled the knife towards her drawing a drop of
blood.
Frightened Bridgett
nodded.
"And I think I have tolerated your silly
superstitions long enough." She withdrew the knife but seized Bridgett's
grimoire before the Irish girl could move. With a flick of her wrist Crowe
sent Bridgett's precious spellbook into the campfire where it vanished in
a roar of blue flame.
The Irish girl knelt there
stunned.
"Now come to bed Bridgett. We have a long
day ahead of us."
***
Heartbroken Bridgett tossed and
turned. Several times she started
to rise, and move towards the fairy but each time Crowe was there, sitting
across the camp looking at her.
Each time the Irish girl meekly crawled back into her
bedroll. Exhausted and cowed
she finally drifted into a short and restless sleep.
She rose the next morning to see her mistress
slowly saddling her horse. She
wore her customary linen shirt and riding breaches but had added a red scarf
tied close around her neck. The
adventuress seemed slow and pale, despite what had happened last night Bridgett
felt sympathy well up inside her. She walked up and put a hand on Crowe’s
shoulder but the Englishwoman shrugged her off.
"M'lady are you well?"
"Yes. Yes of course, I'm perfectly fine.
Especially now that I have Dreg and Lurch to aid me."
Two malformed hunchbacks emerged from the
woods carrying a long pole. Their limbs seemed either too long or too short,
arms did not match legs, eyes were out of symmetry, strange bulges distorted
their skulls and livid scars disfigured their faces. They seemed to have
been assembled from spare parts. A rank carrion odor came from them assaulting
Bridgett's button nose like a hammer. The two looked at the Irish girl with
their strange eyes and traces of drool fell from their lips. She
shuddered.
"The count sent these two lads to help us
out now that the savage is gone. Now come along, I expect to make better
time today."
***
The two deformed freaks strung the fairy
on the pole between them like a dead deer and started moving. This day the
forest was deadly quiet. The trees seemed strangely blighted as if by an
early frost and not a bird or insect was to be
heard. Bridgett noticed many
trees scarred by fire or axes but said nothing.
Allowed to ride again, Bridgett pulled alongside
her mistress.
"M'lady about Running
Deer-"
Crowe smiled at her maidservant. "Bridgett,
you have known me a long time, too long to be calling my
'm'lady'"
"Sorry m'lady" Bridgett said with a smile
completing their old joke.
"No, I think by now you should know to call
me mistress."
"Mistress?"
"Yes, it will help you remember your place.
Now silence your chattering, if I want to hear your voice I will ask you
a question."
"Yes m-mistress Crowe."
They rode in silence for the rest of the
day.
Bridgett O'Malley could not even guess what
had happened to Lauren. Nothing the Englishwoman said was completely out
of character, she had always been prideful and contemptuous of magic but...
this was too much. It was as though she had lost all of her positive traits
in one day leaving only arrogant pride.
And the fairy... It cut into Bridgett's heart
even to see the proud guardian of the forest strung up like a piece of meat.
But what could she do?
The Irish girl had relied on Crowe for leadership
for her entire life. And Crowe had never steered her wrong. Could it be that
the English noblewoman actually did know
best? She wished Running Deer
were here. The Indian had left them in anger a few times before but had always
returned within a day or two, her blood-debt to Crowe outweighing her pride.
But this time... would she come back?
More than once Bridgett thought she saw someone
watching them from the underbrush but she could never quite catch sight of
their pursuer. In her heart she hoped it was Running
Deer.
Strangely, Crowe told them to set camp a
little before noon. She looked pale and was sweating profusely. Was she
ill?
Bridgett tried to get close to the fairy
to at least offer her some refreshment but the two freakish porters snarled
at her and drove her away.
With nothing else to do Bridgett took out
a towel and headed for the stream to wash and to think. Secretly she hoped
Running Deer was out there and would choose to reveal herself
then.
Once she was satisfied she could not be observed
Bridgett removed her long red dress and carefully set it on a stone. Her
white undergarment was next and then her brassiere and panties. Normally
she did not remove all of her clothes to bathe, especially not in the wild
but the experiences of the past few days had made her feel especially dirty.
She splashed in the river a bit and let herself float.
What to do?
What to do?
The destruction of her grimoire was crippling.
She had others back at Crowe Manor but it had been her favorite tome. Without
its diagrams and instructions she could only use the handful of simple spells
she knew by heart. More complex feats of magic were beyond her, without written
instructions the chance of miscasting was too great. The spell might not
work or even worse might malfunction disastrously. She remembered the time
she had miscast a healing spell and sent her two companions into fits of
unrestrained lust. What a night that had been!
With her grimoire Bridgett might have been
able to attempt some scrying spells or even a cleansing spell for whatever
strange malady was affecting her beloved mistress. But without
it...
She heard rustling in the bushes and paddled
towards shore. She climbed on the rock and wrapped a towel around
herself.
"Running Deer? Are you
there?"
"No Bridgett, it's not the savage." Crowe
stepped out onto the riverbank and put her boot on Bridgett's clothes. The
two freakish porters followed her, drooling more conspicuously than ever.
Bridgett shrieked and wrapped the towel tighter.
"I wondered what mischief you were up to
by yourself and now I see you were planning some sort of rendezvous with
the savage. A friendly visit? Or were you plotting to betray
me?"
"M'lady..."
Quick as a snake Crowe's hand dashed out
and pulled the towel away leaving Bridgett bare before her and the two malforms.
Bridgett shrieked again and tried to cover herself with her hands.
"Bridgett you will remember to call me mistress
won't you?" She tapped the Irish girl lightly on the cheek.
"M-mistress Crowe, you, you're not yourself,
you must realize you would never..."
Crowe's hand darted out again seizing Bridgett's
mane of red hair and pulling her forward. Crowe sat herself on a rock and
pulled her shrieking servant's body over her knee. She painfully twisted
Bridgett's hair. "Oh Bridgett, I blame myself really. For too long I have
been lax with you, allowing you all sorts of inappropriate liberties and
never taking the time to properly discipline you after your failures. Well
you will be grateful to know that ends now. Lurch, your cudgel
please."
One of the deformed servants handed her a
thick oak rod.
"No! Lauren please no! This isn't you!
Something's wrong!"
"How many" (Lauren brought down the rod with
her full strength on Bridgett's exposed backside) "times" (she bought it
down again) "must I" (again) "tell you" (again) "call me" (again)
"MISTRESS!"
The forest echoed with Bridgett's
howls!
***
The Irish girl spent the rest of the day
painfully bound with her hands behind a tree trying to sit on her reddened
backside. She was now as much a prisoner as the fairy. She'd been allowed
to wear her undergarment, a thin cotton gown the barely reached her knees.
Against her wet body it became almost transparent. As Crowe slept during
the day the two twisted servants leered at her with undisguised lust. One
even came close and squeezed her breasts. The humiliated Irish girl had no
more tears to cry.
The other pulled him away and grunted in
some guttural language. They moved away from Bridgett to the long-legged
form of the fairy. The mysterious creature was bound and gagged and in obvious
pain but something of her allure could still be seen. Her legs were long
and supple, her breasts firm and round, despite the alien aspects of her
face it was quite lovely. Her violet eyes bored into Bridgett's soul pleading
for help. Bridgett could offer none.
The two freaks looked at Crowe's sleeping
form and decided she would not stir any time soon.
They undid the chain binding the Fairy to
the tree. Bridgett started to shout a warning but one of the freaks cuffed
her on the side of the head. Before she could recover her senses he shoved
a rag into her mouth muffling her cries.
The other threw the fairy over his shoulder
and carried her into the woods.
For the next hour Bridgett heard brutish
grunts and muffled cries from the forest.
She had thought she had more tears to
cry.
She was wrong.