Our story began here.
Reckonings and Reconciliations
Katrin had hardly seen Fear for days. In fact she had barely seen anyone she knew. Timon was still in chaos and whenever she ventured away from her quarters she encountered servants and soldiers running hither and thither with a will.
It wasn’t until three days after the battle that she finally got a note in her father’s hand. Then all it said was that he loved her, an uncharacteristic sentiment from him, and that he had much to do regarding his men and the disposition of horses.
He did however invite her and Fear to Downley before their return to Pandoria. That in itself was more than she dared hope regarding her father’s acceptance of her relationship with the Arch Mage.
She knew of course why everyone else was ignoring her. As a journeyman she had no standing whatsoever and her only official role was as the Arch Magus’s mistress. Katrin glowered at the thought, but it was true. As his apprentice she could not officially get engaged to anyone, let alone her master and that left her position as socially awkward. But she had hoped that Tabitha at least would have found time to come and see her.
Katrin sighed heavily and moved to the window to watch the men at work. All morning stone masons and tilers had been smarming over the outer ramparts of the city like squirrels gathering nuts. The noise was constant but for her it was the music of hope.
She remembered how she had been standing on the walls when Fear had brought forth an earthquake and damaged them. That had been a dark moment. She had feared then that she would lose him and the world with him. It was only now that could she think on it.
But what power had taken her there? Why had she even left the safety of the city to go to her man just then? The powers that be would say that she had had a Wild Magic episode of seeing. But she had never had an inkling of such power before and her gifts lay so squarely within thaumatology that she doubted now that she was any kind of seer.
If only she could talk to Amber or even Fear about it, but the last thought made her unaccountably uncomfortable. There were questions here and few answers.
*
The next day a message arrived from Meredith Greydove. She and Fear were formally invited to supper.
“You are… Hemple aren’t you?” Katrin asked the girl who had delivered the message.
The girl looked drawn and tired, but she smiled at being recognised and nodded.
“Yes my lady,” Hemple replied and dropped a small curtsy.
“I remember you from… we almost fought didn’t we?” Katrin had heard that the coven had done well during the battle. But she remembered to that they had had loses. “I’m sorry about your friends,” she added.
“They were quick deaths,” she said quietly, “Others were not so…”
Katrin pursed her lips in sympathy and re-read the note.
“Will there…?” “Have you…?” They both spoke at once and then laughed together.
“Sorry my lady?” Hemple giggled. It was something of an icebreaker.
“You don’t need to my lady me, not really. Those days are behind me now. Are we not colleagues?” Katrin told the girl. “What were you going to say?”
“It doesn’t matter my lady, my brain is a bit addled since… anyway you are the Arch Magus’s woman and I hear you will one day be a great mage in your own right, so Meredith says I must have some respect,” Hemple said shyly.
Katrin started to speak when she saw Tabitha lurking in the hall outside.
“Oh the gods,” she shrieked and dashed out of the room to embrace her friend.
“Katrin,” Tabitha gushed.
Hemple curtsied again and slipped away.
“So it is you who has been singing my praises to your witch friends,” Katrin accused Tabitha once they broke apart.
“Me and everyone else,” Tabitha said earnestly, “You totally saved the day out there when you helped the master.”
“And what about you…? Killing Draken like that,” Katrin gushed.
Tabitha’s face dropped.
“Sorry,” Katrin grimaced, “It must have been awful.”
“Well… kind of but…” Tabitha began.
“Oh Hemple, sorry,” Katrin said looking around, “Oh…”
“Don’t mind her,” Tabitha said, “She and some of the others got turned into rabbits on the battlefield. It tends to make one a little…” she touched her head.
“Oh the lords of Pandoria,” Katrin gasped, putting her hand to her mouth. “Do tell.”
“Later maybe,” Tabitha said carefully, “There is something else I need to tell you before you hear it from anyone else.”
Katrin looked up the hallway as if for spies and seeing they were alone said, “Come in.”
Once the door was closed there was an awkward silence like someone had died. Gort came unbidden to Katrin’s mind for some reason, while Tabitha thought of Gasgook.
Katrin looked at the former peasant girl and saw how much she had grown up. In another world they would never have met let alone become close friends.
“Do you want some tea?” Katrin asked politely. It was if an old order was reasserting itself.
Tabitha shook her head and Katrin could see she would speak, albeit with great reluctance.
“Whatever is it?” Katrin urged.
Tabitha took a deep breath and then clasped her hands.
“I am not going back to Pandoria,” she finally said, “There is nothing more I can learn there.”
It was the end of an era and they both knew it. Katrin sat down on her bed like a broken doll.
“Meredith has invited me and Erin to join the coven,” Tabitha continued.
“I see,” Katrin sighed.
“Oh don’t be like that,” Tabitha wailed, “Meredith and Amber think I am ready to enter the Fourth Circle and they think that… Meredith says… that one day I will surpass even them. Erin and I will be initiated together; oh she is such a powerful witch, who’d have thought it…? Did you know…?”
As Tabitha continued to gush, Katrin saw something of the other little girl who had left the Silver Shore all those years ago and she grinned. The two women talked into the afternoon, long and expansively about nothing in particular.
*
Supper with the coven was a huge success. The coven had commandeered a small inn in the backstreets of Timon and with a mix of persuasion, good will and plenty of coin had taken over the whole cellar bar.
The low brown beams put Katrin in mind of the place where she and Fear had first met after she had been recruited by Crane. But now instead of suspicious strangers there were a thousand candles and the laughter of friends.
“Oh hades, they are not going to show off are they?” Katrin whispered in Fear’s ear.
The remark was prompted by Peel transforming herself into the beast and leaping across from beam to beam in the ceiling. When she finally did drop to the floor in human form she was naked and made no attempt to get dressed all evening.
“I see what you mean,” Fear chuckled, “I think it is going to be one of those evenings.”
“What are you two whispering about?” Amber chided, “Come and have a drink or are you too grand now oh mighty Arch Magus?”
“Not too grand to spank you,” Fear countered with a grin.
“Now, now, that wouldn’t be dignified,” Amber shot back, but she was blushing.
“For you or for me?” Fear winked.
“I suggest we grant the balance on that,” Meredith said expansively as she called for more drinks with a wave.
All the feasting and celebrations up to then had been so formal. Most of the speeches and parades had featured warriors and noblemen at centre stage with the mages and witches awkward guests in the corner. So much so that as soon as they were able the Magister and friendly covens made their excuses and left as soon as the matter of the renegade sorcerers and magical prisoners was settled.
Not a few of the latter found themselves bound for Pandoria for an education. The rest, mostly those with more pretention than power, were paroled and allowed to return home.
This and other matters were a small feature of the talk around the coven’s table. Instead it was the first chance that the real victors of the Battle of Timon had had to celebrate in their own way. Although in fact only Fear and Katrin were there to represent Pandoria, all the rest were of the coven.
“Will you soon return to Pandoria?” Meredith asked Fear innocently, although her words were intended for Amber who had declined an invitation to join the coven as well as Tabitha and Erin.
Fear smiled and exchanged glances with Katrin. The truth was, he was in no particular hurry. His status there had changed forever and coupled with the fall of Gort, he was now undisputedly first in power and that did not make for friends.
Furthermore his position with regards to Katrin was exceedingly awkward and he was torn between openly taking her as his woman and allowing her to continue her education.
“My father has invited us to Downley for the rest of the summer and under the circumstance…” Katrin cut in to rescue the Arch Mage.
“Of course,” Meredith agreed, but her gaze turned to Amber. “Are you sure you don’t…?”
Amber nodded.
“My place is at Pandoria, especially with so many new young witches enrolling in the wake of the war,” she said.
“Erin will miss you,” Meredith said.
Erin sat oblivious in a huddle with Tabitha, Peel and Hemple giggling at nothing.
“I don’t think so,” Amber said sadly.
“Too dour, too dour,” someone called.
Then someone else called for a speech and was shouted down.
“We are not kings here,” Demdike cackled, but glasses were raised all the same.
Fear leaned in to Katrin so that she thought he would kiss her.
“You and I will have words tomorrow,” he hissed, “Do not think I have forgotten that you twice defied me.”
Katrin gaped.
“But I…” she wailed.
“I gave my word upon it,” Fear growled under his breath.
Katrin pulled a lemon face and folded her arms. No one but Fear noticed.
*
Katrin was all twos and eights the next day. She had half expected Fear to handle things when they awoke, but he had gone out early on business. That had left the girl to begin the process of packing and to make arrangements to meet her father at Downley.
Worse still, after the previous night’s activities she was rather more sharply aware of her head than she would have liked. Also for a good part of the morning her mouth felt like a sand-pickle’s nest and in no time she had drunk the dregs of her water jug.
She had no idea when Fear would return and her day was dominated by a rather unsettled queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach that caused her to leap up nervously every time a sound emanated from outside.
At noon the door opened without ceremony and Katrin gave a start, which gave the maid with the tray almost as much a fright as she had had.
“I’m sorry my lady, I… I thought you might want to eat something,” the girl offered nervously.
“Eh… yes… um, thank you,” Katrin managed, recovering her composure. “Please put it down there.”
The meal consisted of a fresh jug of spring water, an apple and some bread with a selection of local cheeses. The water was a treat and Katrin realised that the combination of nerves and a hangover had given her a powerful thirst. As for the rest, the cheese was piquant enough, but in her current mood the bread tasted of cardboard and even the bitter-sweet chumleydale, one of her favourites, tasted sour.
Katrin was still disposing of the crumbs and feeling better despite herself when there was a knock at the door. She jumped up nervously. Even though she knew Fear was unlikely to have knocked, she still felt weighed down by apprehension.
“Come in,” she began, but no one above a flea on her lip could have heard such a mouse whisper. She swallowed. “Come in,” she said more forcefully.
The door opened slowly as if the person beyond was entering an unknown bar room in a seedy part of town and feared he may be robbed.
“Katrin,” a tentative voice called.
She knew it at once even as she failed to place it. Then the door swung wide.
Sir Mark De Lacy looked older than she remembered him and frailer. That was until he smiled. And then his face lit-up and like silver back mountain gorilla he bestrode the room and scooped her up in his arms.
“Katrin,” he exclaimed joyfully.
“Daddy,” she squealed.
The two embraced for far longer than was social custom and all the while Katrin’s feet hung a foot from the floor as her father spun her around. Finally he set her down and stepped back to look at her. He was still smiling, but now he gave her an appraising nod as if seeing her for the first time in their lives.
“I hear you were there on the battlefield,” he said. It was no accusation and his neutral tone held.
“Don’t be angry… I just had to…” she said sheepishly.
She was 12 again.
He nodded, but this time a frown crossed his face.
“Besides,” she mumbled, “Fear is already… he is…” She was blushing.
“I should damn well hope so,” Sir Mark said in faux anger.
Katrin returned a weak smile, but even this faint support for Fear and his relationship with her was welcome. The short awkward silence that followed was broken by her father.
“I am demobilised,” he said in a brittle voice. “My rank as general-of-horse was confirmed, but then I was retired.”
He sounded regretful.
“What about Downley?” Katrin asked.
“Delia says all is well there and that the enemy never came close. And now I have a decent pension to carry us past the slump in the market that is bound to follow, for I don’t think our lands will support us for a year or two” he told her. Then with an almost imperceptible hint of desperation he asked, “You are still coming…?”
Katrin nodded and grinning took his arm.
“And what about… him?” Sir Mark said carefully, “You have plans to marry?”
Katrin shrugged. She hadn’t the heart to tell her father that it would be years before she could marry, if ever. And that Fear hadn’t even asked her.
Sir Mark looked away at the window and nodded.
“Good view you have,” he said absently.
But before Katrin could reply he added, “They are going to make me some sort of lord, a baron at least, but more likely given my… standing, they will make me a count.”
Why did she think he was giving her bad news? Katrin held her peace.
“It is no title you can obtain,” he sighed, “And I have no sons.”
So that was it. Her father did not mind Fear so much, but unless they married and had children…
“What about Delia?” Katrin asked.
“Not marriage material, not from a political standpoint anyway, besides, she is not getting any younger, I fear that ship might have left port,” he said brusquely.
He felt rather troubled now, as if he was betraying Delia in some way. But for once he had to speak his mind to his daughter. He had seen too much death not to. One never knew how much time was left.
“There is time father, so much time,” she said, her words rushing at him in desperation. “I am young.”
“You are… but I…” he began.
“You are barely 50, well short of 60 anyway. In 20 years you’ll still be going strong and I’ll still be young. If Fear won’t have me before then, then I will find some rich lord to…” Katrin continued eagerly.
“Some poor magus more like,” her father laughed and then he really laughed as if a weight had gone from him.
Katrin eyed the cheese and regretted that she didn’t have more to offer him, but they were both laughing now, two people full grown who had survived and had a life time to become reacquainted.
“I had better go,” Sir Mark said at last, “I have things to do and it sounds as if you have… enough on your plate.”
“I suppose,” Katrin said ruefully.
He kissed her then and turned to go.
“Oh,” he said with a twinkle as he reached the door, “Tell that man of yours to lay on extra from me.”
Katrin gaped and shushed him away and he left chuckling.
*
Fear came just after three and immediately Katrin knew she was for the high jump. For one thing he didn’t smile, not even his sad little disappointed turn of lip. For another he held a long white rod instead of his staff. It was tapered so that it was as thick as his thumb at one end and ran to a little under pinkie breadth at the other. There was only one possible purpose for such a rod and Katrin felt her buttocks clench involuntarily.
He didn’t say a word at first, but merely lay the rod upon the small writing desk in the corner and then remove his robes.
Katrin followed every movement in morbid fascination, visibly gulping when he unhooked the button-beads of his shirt and began to roll up his sleeves. Strangely though, she found herself wondering if he should still be wearing black now that he was an Arch Magus. What colour did an Arch Mage wear anyway? Had she noticed the distracted thought she might have wondered at the workings of her mental defences.
“Disrobe to your blouse and stockings,” he said in a stern baritone voice.
At once she fumbled with the ties at the neck of her gown, but made no progress for moments on end as with humble doe-eyes she gave him all her attention, perhaps hoping for some reprieve.
“There will be two punishments,” he announced as he finished with the cuffs of his sleeves, “One for acting the stowaway, and the other at a later date for not staying with the healers as you were told.”
Katrin swallowed and looked down at the floor.
“But I… I had to come, you… we…” she burbled.
“You have no idea what you did or why do you?” he snapped at her.
She jerked and took a step back.
“No,” she admitted quietly.
“It may have been more than chance that you came, and on that we will ponder another time,” he told her, but he had reined in his anger a little, “However that doesn’t change the fact that you were grossly disobedient or that things could so easily have turned out differently. What if the Shadow Dreamers had lured you there for some purpose? What if you had been taken hostage? What if… if you had been…” Fear’s voice cracked at these last words and as he said, “Killed?”
Katrin opened her mouth to speak but closed it again. He was wholly right and she hadn’t even considered that until now.
Fear glared at her hard and she realised that she hadn’t even begun to undress. A situation she amended by working the ties and pearl buttons down the front of her gown.
“You try my patience still,” he snarled.
Katrin could see now why he had held back in correcting her until now. She had never seen him so angry. She worked the buttons faster and in a moment had stepped out of her dress and roughly folded it in half to lay it upon the bed.
She stood in just a shift and draws over dark almost black green stockings. For some reason she was shy with him now and turned her back.
“Quickly now,” he growled.
Katrin thought of something and shot a worried look over her shoulder.
“What if someone should come?” she asked.
But his eyes said he ‘so didn’t care’ and she hastily dropped her knee-long bloomers to her ankles and unbidden dropped to bend over the bed.
Fear felt the familiar gut-shot at her beauty, but steeled himself with resolve and took up the white rod he had purchased at the market. He tried not to be amused at the way it was raised in parody to another such appendage as he hefted it. He would have her mind him now and in future, for the woman of an arch mage would ever be in danger.
Her hips were round and full, framing her tightly split pale bottom like albino peaches sliced for a royal feast. For a moment he considered just spanking her and moving on to more attractive pursuits, but duty held him.
Katrin was delicately folded over the bed now, half kneeling and half bending, she never failed to be embarrassed at such times, but nonetheless she regarded her man over her shoulder with her big sad eyes.
“You think me unfair?” he suggested.
She gave him a small shake of her head and turned to fix her eyes on a spot on the wall.
The white tapered stick was surprisingly springy and whoever had made it knew their art. For in motion the curious rod became the perfect whip-cane as it sliced the air.
Katrin gasped. It was not for nothing that they were called cuts. Then as ever, just as the pain of the impact finished it truly began. She rode the sear like a wild horse, which her breathing now resembled as she clenched the sheets in her hands.
“You not only disobeyed me, you put yourself in danger,” Fear whispered softly. Then he struck again as he said more sharply, “How dare you think to know better than I? How dare you?”
Despite his apparent youthfulness sometimes she forgot that the Magic preserved him and that he was far older and wiser than she. After all, what did she really know of the world?
Katrin held on for a beat and then in a strained voice she managed, “I’m sorry.”
Fear took in the two hard long bumps of purple across her perfect bottom with a dispassionate eye and then placed another firmer stroke exactly an inch each under the lower one.
“Aaah,” Katrin yelled, no longer able to contain herself.
The three ‘sword cuts’ went deep across her bottom and she found the strength to curse the maker of the white stick. When I am a mage I’ll hunt him down and… Fear added a fourth right where she sat.
“Ooooh-yah,” she grunted and dipped her back before arching it in a rapid tail-wag. The gods this is undignified, I really, really hope no one comes to find out what the noise is all about, she thought bitterly.
“This is for playing at stowaways,” Fear reminded her, “It is less than the others got I suspect.”
Fear sliced another piece of her delicate hide and she gave full voice to a scream.
“This is…” she growled angrily, punching the flat of the bed and half rounding on him in protest. She didn’t finish that this was quite bad enough.
“Yes?” he intoned, resting the stick on his shoulder.
“Nothing Sir,” she muttered.
Fear whipped her again right where bottom fold met thigh and watched her lunge forward clawing at the bed.
There were now six neat plum lines across her bottom, the first extending from just above the crown of her curves, the rest spaced evenly down to the underside of her behind. She was crying freely now, although not truly sobbing, the main noise being her laboured breathing.
“Nothing Sir,” Fear mimicked her in a voice like steel.
His manhood twitched and he frowned. He so wanted this be about discipline. He was furious with her and not a little proud of himself for showing restraint after the battle. But now she had to learn.
“I am sorry, I am,” Katrin wailed, “But I had no choice, truly I didn’t.”
“And nor do I,” Fear replied.
The next stroke was atop of the others where she was less meaty. Katrin dropped forward on her face and roared in anger. But after a long struggle to breath she looked back at him with water rimmed eyes with something like contrition forming there.
“I know master,” she whispered.
Then taking careful aim Fear set about placing strokes between each of the first set as Katrin bucked and clawed on the bed unashamedly yelling for relief.
At the end of the hall outside a gaggle of giggling maids whispered excitedly among themselves as they listened to Fear’s admonishment of their mistress.
To be continued.
