Leaning down, the wizard grasped the prostrate girl by the hair, yanking her head up. “What will you do, my dear, if I give you your sight back?”
“Anything!” Bethany cried out. “Just make it stop!”
Delighted, the wizard let his victim’s head drop back down, straightening up to look at Keyla. “You see? I have you! And there’s nothing you can do about it.”
From the next cell over, Danielle screamed about her illusionary rats.
“You’re all weak!” Laughing, the wizard hauled Bethany to her feet. “Come, whore!”
“Wait!” Keyla called out, walking up to the iron gate. Clearly broken, Bethany couldn’t take much more abuse. “Let her be! I will come with you.”
Even in the poor light, the wizard’s black stone pulsed strongly. “I see.” Peremptorily dropping Bethany again, the wizard darted forward, reaching through the iron gate to grab Keyla by the back of the head. “You will do as I say?” he snarled.
“Yes!” Keyla snapped, her face pulled into the rough bars. “Just stop torturing them!”
“Fine.” Magically lifted from the floor, Bethany was tossed back into her cell, the door slamming shut. “She can see again, and the rats are gone. As for you...”
Instantly, Keyla was transported from the dark dungeon. She was now standing on a sunny beach, without clothing of any kind. People played on the sand and in the water, dressed in traditional swim wear. First one turned to stare, then another. Soon hundreds of men, women, and children were staring at her nakedness, some pointing and giggling. “Well, I never!” announced one woman, turning away in disgust.
Of course it was all illusion, crackling with dark magic, yet in her weakened condition Keyla was hopelessly disoriented. “No, please, I don’t want to be here! I don’t want this!” she called out, turning about, hiding her body as best she could.
“My, my. Aren’t we modest?”
Spinning around, Keyla was horrified to see the tall, gangly wizard, wearing nothing but a tiny bathing suit, sun glasses, and an absurd, floppy beach hat. Eyeing her appreciatively, the magician’s black stone hung loosely at his side. In the bright light, she could see that his face was horribly misshapen, his nose turned almost sideways. The crowd erupted in applause, as if a rock star had just walked out on stage.
“Get away from me!” Keyla cried out. Terrified, she stumbled backwards, tripping and falling onto the sand. People laughed. Now the sun turned dark, bathing her in it’s depraved aura.
“Now, now,” the wizard murmured, almost soothingly. Throwing the hat aside, he magically held the horrified girl down on the sand, laying down beside her. “You dirty witches!” he snarled, stroking her arm. “Your kind has lost. Soon you will all be my slaves!”
Afterwards, feeling immensely satisfied, lounging on the illusory beach with his hand still on the naked girl’s smooth hip, the magician considered the enormity of all that lay before him.
The natural balance was being restored. Soon, the Coven’s power would be completely eradicated, the age of female magical dominance coming to an end.
And soon, put in their proper place, the witches would bear him an army of powerful children. Under his loving guidance, his minions would then come to rule every known dimension, bringing the entire universe under his complete control.
***
BORN AS EVAN GENSROW nearly four decades before, the future wizard had been like any other boy in the medieval realm of Jain. In fact, as the proprietors of a prosperous tavern, the Gensrows had lived a life of relative luxury, owning a half-dozen horses and sitting near the front of church every Sunday.
Mr. Gensrow had been a good man, beating his family only when necessary, the barmaids thoughtfully sent away when impregnated with his bastard children. Yes, there had been unfortunate incidents, like the time a young girl, in resisting his drunken advances, had accidently sliced her own throat on a glass bottle, or when his mother had been crippled after being thrown down the stairs.
These things will happen. Actually, his mother had been much calmer after that, sleeping most of the day away in her own drunken stupor, while Evan’s older sister had been spared the tedium of school by staying home to care for her.
Everything had been quite bucolic, actually, until the year of Evan’s tenth birthday. A pretty woman had shown up at the Gensrow home one afternoon, dressed in strange blue pants and black boots, a green stone hanging from a necklace. Bidding his mother and sister to gather a few necessities, the woman announced she was taking them away, to a place where they could heal.
For his part Evan had frightfully huddled in the corner, thwarted by the strange woman when he approached his confused mother.
“Get away, you little monster!” she’d snapped. “You should never have been born! Now you’ll turn into the same kind of man your father is, maybe even worse!” Grabbing him roughly by the chin, she forced Evan’s terrified gaze up to her. “I should kill you right now, you little prick, but it’s not allowed!”
Struck by a sudden thought, the witch’s eyes narrowed, her earth stone pulsing strongly. “I’ll tell you what, though, you Devil’s spawn. I hereby cast a spell making you repulsive to every woman you meet. You’ll never marry, never have children of your own. That will break the cycle of abuse, and give the women in this backward world some measure of peace. At least from you.”
A strange force swept over Evan, rendering him weak and confused. Cast against the far wall, the delirious boy could only watch as his drunken father staggered home from work moments later. A struggle ensued, the witch killing Mr. Gensrow with his own knife. With a final, murderous glare, the sorceress left Evan with his dead father, taking his mother and sister away, never to be seen again.
Thrown into an orphanage, the next six years were a struggle just to survive. Though kind to the other children, the women who ran the institution couldn’t stand Evan, experiencing a visceral revulsion to the little boy. Often he went hungry while others ate, was assigned additional chores, and was even sent out to sleep in the rain. Though trying his best to win the women’s approval, he merely provoked additional beatings. Most nights Evan cried himself to sleep, detesting himself more and more.
Reaching puberty, Evan discovered another aspect to his torment. None of the young ladies from town, or even the other orphan girls, would ever speak to him. Before long even his few male friends eschewed Evan’s company, preferring to chase girls, which Evan, by his very presence, made impossible.
Soon after his 16th birthday, by now dangerously depressed, Evan reached the illogical conclusion that if he physically resembled females, they might more easily accept him. Stealing girls clothing, he emerged one day in a bright yellow dress, his hair pulled back in a bow, garish make-up scarring his features. Stunned, some two-dozen other orphans watched Evan stumble into the kitchen area on ill-fitting high heels, asking for his daily gruel in an absurd, falsetto voice.
As usual, two nearby girls burst into tears just from having Evan nearby. Without warning, an older boy leapt up, punching Evan in the face. He was then thrown to the floor, blood from his ruined nose gushing all over the yellow dress. Other boys piled on, beating him senseless. It was all a kindly guard could do to save Evan’s life.
The doctor patched Evan up, but with the rudimentary state of medicine in backwards, medieval Jain, nothing could be done for Evan’s disfigured features. Following a month’s convalesce, it was determined that Evan could never return to the orphanage.
Deciding his tall, gangly frame was appropriate for rural labor, he was shipped out to a remote farm. Here, finally, was a chance to prove his worth. Working from sun up until sun down, seven days a week, Evan helped turn the struggling farm around.
Owned by Mr. and Mrs. Bay, a childless couple in their 50's, Evan soon won the grudging respect of the husband. The wife, of course, couldn’t stand to even be around him. Still, after three years, Mr. Bay came to Evan with a proposition.
My 17-year-old niece is coming to visit, he told the astounded Evan. Her own parents died several years ago, leaving the girl with nothing. If she will take you as a husband, Bay explained, I will sign over the farm for you to live and work. It will be yours, forever, now the Gensrow family farm, to leave to your own children, and their children after them.
Having often admired Bay’s niece from afar, Evan eagerly agreed. All the females he’d ever met were revolted by Evan, the penniless orphan. Now, with the prospect of owning this wonderful farm...
Eagerly, Evan washed and combed the next morning, putting on his best shirt for the formal introduction.
Entering the kitchen, it was obvious that the glowering Mrs. Bay had opposed her husband’s arrangement. Pure hatred exploded from the woman’s eyes. Evan smiled, holding up the bouquet of daisies he’d picked in the yard, the flowers failing to mitigate, by even the slightest degree, the horrible effect of Evan’s now hideous face. Hesitating as long as possible, Mrs. Bay finally called her niece.
Slowly, the door on the far side of the kitchen opened, a slim, beautiful girl shuffling into the room, her eyes cast downward. Wearing her best Sunday dress, a white bow in her hair, Bay’s niece came to an uncertain halt next to her aunt. Gruffly, Mr. Bay, standing beside Evan, bade her to look up.
Raising her gaze, the girl’s soft, brown eyes filled with horror. Shrieking, she raced from the kitchen, followed by her furious aunt. Evan was left standing there, still holding out the daisies, the girl’s cries ringing in his ears. After a moment Mr. Bay gruffly told him to pack his things and leave the farm forever.
For three days Evan Gensrow simply wandered, growing weaker with each passing hour, contemplating the best means of ending his miserable life. Of course, he knew who had done this to him, first stealing his family, then rendering him socially impotent. Yet there was no way to fight back. Nothing could be done to change his life, except to end it entirely. Perhaps in the next realm he’d have some power to alter his own fortunes. In this world, he had none.
Finally, having decided to throw himself from a nearby cliff, Evan settled down near a boulder for a final sleep, the better to immolate himself on the morrow. In his desperate state, Evan failed to notice the black, pulsing stone laying a mere foot away, half hidden behind an ordinary granite rock.
Evan’s dreams that night were like molten fire. It was as if something had entered his mind, saturating him with dark energy. Waking up a full 24 hours later, his hands and feet bruised and bleeding from his uncontrolled thrashing, Evan felt completely refreshed, almost reborn. Instinctively, he felt his attention drawn to the pulsing stone. Taking the talisman in hand, Evan felt the energy grow stronger, his confidence soar. The scared, powerless boy of before was gone for good.
In later years, when Evan learned how the odious witches passed their magical power to young girls through their unknowing fathers, he realized that boys must also inherit something potent from their infected sire’s loins. Since their earth stones interfaced only with female magic, the witches had assumed men incapable of power, ignoring the rare, unfortunate future sons of their victims.
The black stone, a rare geode called midate, was found only in Jain. In all likelihood, Evan was the only byproduct of the Coven’s crimes capable of fighting back.
Evan’s burgeoning power was a mandate into itself. Emerging from the woods a few days later, he burned the Bay farm to the ground, hanging Mrs. Bay from a nearby tree. Mr. Bay himself was merely driven off. He took the niece in the middle of the main field, the same pasture in which he’d toiled so many thousands of hours in the hopes of winning the respect of someone like her.
When he was finished, the crying girl half-buried in the mud, Evan stared over at the still smoking farmhouse, the occasional flame still shooting from the debris. The girl had been his first, though oddly enough, the destroyed home gave him an even greater degree of satisfaction. Without much thought he then hung the girl next to her aunt, their sightless eyes overseeing the now wrecked farm.
Next he razed the orphanage, hanging the women who’d so tortured him in a neat row out back. When the king’s soldiers arrived to restore order, they too were dispatched without much effort.
Though Evan had much to learn about the intricacies of magic, his raw, exploding rage was enough to overwhelm any who tried to oppose him. Within a year he was the undisputed master of the kingdom, the previous monarch and all his family publically hanged in the largest town square. All who failed to swear allegiance to Lord Gensrow, as Evan now styled himself, were treated in similar fashion.
A series of wars broke out, surrounding monarchs seeing an easy mark in the young magician. Instead, Lord Gensrow himself, on a huge black charger, led his armies into battle, black fire exploding from his blade. Soon nearly half of Jain was under his mastery, those not actually conquered now quick to promise undying friendship.
But his mastery of the battlefield brought the magician little comfort. No matter how many castles fell to him, the abundant riches that poured into his coffers, or the many women who now willingly gave themselves over to his pleasure, a fire still burned deep within the tortured boy’s soul. The witches had yet escaped his wrath. Under pain of death, all of his subjects were commanded to inform him, instantly, should any of the satanic women make an appearance. As of yet, none had done so.
Finally, after a decade of raging and hoping, word reached the wizard of a young, beautiful woman, wearing the same clothing he’d described, seducing one of his own castle troopers. The woman exhibited strange abilities, the report said, confounding those who’d tried to follow the witch and her besotted victim into the woods.
Bursting from the castle stable on his black charger, Lord Gensrow pounded into the forest, easily orienting on the vile woman’s earth stone. But he was too late. Pulling up in a clearing, the wizard found his man, naked, sleeping on the ground. Of the witch, there was no sign.