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Witches Wanted by Brianna 0. Failure for none It has been two generations passed since magic was banned, since our homeland of Oft became occupied by our enemy and neighbour Baselt. We had not stopped fighting, but as their machines advanced, our magic twindled. At first, our witches did not know why but by the time it was too late we had discovered that the Baselt technosci had discovered a way to suppress the magic in our women. We became defenseless and now we fight them gorilla style. We fight them from the forests, from the small villages they can never fully control - but our cities have been lost to us for a generation. Even so, our youth are highly motivated to aid the rebels in any way they can.. the spirit of the Oft people will never be crushed. 1. Witches Wanted As the tanks rumbled along the dirt streets outside the war torn cottage, Brian watches dust shake and fall from the rafters. Most cottages had a basement and you weren't meant to venture in to any basement of a cottage that had been blown up - but Brian, like most young men his age, made a sport of basement-diving.. exploring the basements of cottages long deserted for hidden treasures. Brian was amazed at what he'd found. This home must have been the cottage of a witch, the long lost tradition of Oft where young women would serve in the military to defend the country by using magic. The witch soldier was once feared but when the suppression hit them, they became but women once more, no better than man at defending our sovereign soil. A war propaganda poster has survived on the wall reading "Fire Engines are but naught to the will of the Goddess" with the picture of a young witch riding a broom stick at high speed and thrusting a wand forward with its tip growing. At the very bottom are words in bold: "Witches Wanted, Enlist Now!". When the magic stopped working many people believed the Goddess had abandoned us but that was no reason to stop fighting. Perhaps if we could beat the invaders and their technology, the Goddess would bless us once more - Brian thought that was wishful thinking. It's not like the Goddess ever personally came down to Oft for a visit even during the greater years. Brian moved on from the poster and ran his hand over the witches uniform, standing proudly on display on a dressing mannequin. It was authentic - a long black dress, black boots with a three inch heel, dark black riding gloves and the tell tail pointed witches hat. A black belt was also wrapped around the mannequins tiny waist and flight goggles rested about its neck. Even an arm patch had survived, sewn in by hand to the shoulder reading "Ravens 5th". Whoever lived in this cottage must have been part of a winged brigade, a group of witches who exclusively fight in the skies on their brooms. To Brian's surprise resting up against the well dressed mannequin was a broom. The wood was in pristine condition and the bristles were still bound tightly at its bottom. If he didn't know any better, he'd almost believe it would fly right now. But, he knew that would not be the case - not since the magic died. He moved on to some shelves and there he found an ornate wooden box. Inside, a witches wand. He took it out and admired it, giving it a swish, "I wish I'd lived in those days, those women must have been amazing to see in action." It was probably just his imagination, but Brian felt a tingle run up his arm from the wand. He knew he'd get a pretty penny for this collection, so he threw down his back pack and carefully undressed the mannequin. Each piece of the uniform he folded up in to his pack, then the wand. He slung it back up on his shoulder as he heard shouts of Baselt soldiers making their rounds. In all his excitement of his find he had forgotten about the war outside. The occupation of Oft had become particular bloody in this region of late - the rebels were hiding in nearby forests and armored sweeps had become more frequent. Brian waited for the noise to pass and grabbed the broom. He made his way out of the basement and back in to the sunlight. "Yetsel," ordered a Baselt soldier, cocking his rifle and pointing it at Brian's chest. Brian felt his stomach knot and his heart sink. He lifted his arms slowly, turning around. The soldier looked him over - a lanky youth, no taller than 5'6 at most. Brian had just turned seventeen and felt himself a man of the world. He could now see his future ending before his eyes. "What is this broom you hold," asked the soldier in a rough Oftian accent. Brian gripped the broom and lifted it out explaining "It's just a broom I found". He felt himself become pulled forward and he stumbled. The soldier stepped back with a surprised expression that matches Brian's. "What was this!" demanded the soldier and Brian had no idea. With a shrug of his shoulders he felt himself suddenly lunge up in to the air. Instinctively, he let go of the broom and fell to the ground; the broom fell next to him and he stood up hastily, picking up the broom once more. The soldier reacquired Brian and lifted his gun again, "No, you will stop this, drop of the broom! at once!" demanded the soldier. The commotion and shouting drew the eyes of a few more soldiers who made their way over toward Brian. Brian's mind raced - how could this broom be working? All magic has ceased, no woman has be en able to caste a spell from her wand in over two generations, not since the war began. Flying brooms simply stopped flying.. and yet here was one that seemed to beg an alternative to that reasoning. Brian knew he was dead now.. a working broom meant they'd believe him to be a rebel. Truth be told, he was a rebel just like every other young boy and girl in his class; but he didn't want to die. Have faith, he told himself: he gripped the broom and jumped for it, shutting his eyes tightly. Shutting his eyes tightly was a mistake. Brooms move fast, but no one had seen a broom in action in so long Brian had no idea what to expect. He went hurtling over the bombed out roof tops of the cottages, out over a lack and straight in to the forest, crashing in to the branches and trees. He hit the ground hard, still holding the broom Landing on his back really hurt, the back pack filled with clothing made the landing very awkward. In the distance, he could hear the sound of war trumpets signaling an attack - the Baselt will be looking for him. 2. Magic Armor The shouts of the Baselt soldiers could be heard echoing through the forests. Brian was scared, very scared. He had been running in a random direction but not exactly knowing where he's really going. A few times the soldiers had gotten near and he had dared to use the broom again. Each time ended the same way: a severely painful crash landing somewhere a little further away from the soldiers. Cut, bruised, beaten by the device that he could not properly fly, his clothing was none the better for wear either. He knew his only way out of here would be to master the broom, but this was something that women spent years training to do and no one was probably even left alive who knew how it was done. Perhaps if he could find a book on the subject. Those books were kept as trophies in Baselt palaces, a final insult to Oft's glorious past. A bullet went wizzing by Brian's ear and he cried out in fear, running once more. More shouts, the soldiers are closing in again. He's running out of breath and his footfall is becoming uneven. He knows he's done for now. He hears the cock of a rifle and hears the shot fire. A sharp, intense pain penetrates his back. The wind is knocked from his lounges and he falls to the ground face first. But to Brian's surprise, he is not dead. He fears the worst that he will become a cripple never to walk again. The soldier that shot him starts to move closer and Brian wiggles his toes in his shoes. Again, surprise, he feels nothing wrong. He stands up and hefts up the broom, taking flight once more. High up, through branches that strike him hard, an arc and then crashing back down in to the forest again. He holds on tight as he bounces across the forest floor before coming to a stop at the base of a big tree. "How.. why?" he asks himself and pulls his back pack off. There, through the back of the pack is a tiny hole. He opens up the pack and feels around inside. There the hole ends - a crumpled up piece of metal falls out, the witches clothing remains unbroken. "Impossible," he says with a gasp. He yanks out the witches dress and lays it out in front of him looking it over. Then back to his back pack, an entry hole but no exit hole. "The dress is magical?" he poses the question to himself and tries to tear it. That's not a great test, so he pulls himself up and tries to stab the dress against a sharp branch nearby. Again, it does not pierce. He takes the broken piece of metal and tries to cut the dress but once more, it does not break. He can hear the voices of soldiers approaching from the distance. The Baselt sure are persistent. But perhaps this dress might get him out of the forest alive.. if it can really stop bullets. There's only one way to find out. He pulls of his shirt and tries to ignore the cuts and bruises. He's never worn a dress in his life, but desperate times call for desperate measures. He pulls the dress on over his head like he would a shirt. At first, it's a tight fit, he has to wriggle and squirm and pull at it to get it down. Finally, his arms pop out its short sleeves and he gets his head out the neck hole. He pulls it down and it feels tight and stern, like you might expect armor to be. But what he never expected to see was what it does to his figure. Once more, the clothing's magical nature becomes evident as it gives him a slender figure, a trim tummy and wide hips, though it does nothing to propose he might have a bust. The sleeves fit snug about his upper arms and the dress falls over his pants down to just past his knees. Some how, the dress makes his hips look wider. Curious, he picks up the leather belt and wraps it about his waist. With a gasp of shock, he finds that it fits like a glove. "No way." Well, in for a penny in for a pound, he pulls off his pants and shoes and pulls on the boots. They too are hard to get on, but once on the leather seems to hug his calves tightly, the heel not too uncomfortable, but the pointed toes are a bit of a pain. Neck, he pulls on the riding gloves and finds that they expect up past his elbows. Then, the flying goggles, "Well at least these will help," he says and then finally adorns himself with the hat of a witch upon his head. Once last thing falls from his back pack - the wand. With nothing else to do, he slips it in to the waist belt and looks himself over as best he can. Disregarding his face, it would be easy to think he is a short haired woman with the figure the clothing imposes on him. He hears footsteps rustle behind him and sees several soldiers staring at him with confused expressions. "Er.. I can explain," Brian tries to say but the lead soldier just snarls and shouts "Eshtat!" and the trio of soldiers fire their rifles at him. Brian falls back with the impact of the three strikes to his chest. It's like being hit harder than anything else he's ever felt before. Once more, he becomes winded and he struggles to move. "What is this?" asks one of the soldiers, walking up over Brian. He points his gun directly down at Brian's chest and shoots again. The bullet hits him but breaks up against the dress. Brian feels like he's just been kicked in the chest again. "No!" declares the soldier and instead aims for Brian's face. There is nothing he can do but brace for certain death. The soldier fires and the bullet bounces off an invisible magic shield back up, kill him where he stands. The other two soldiers look on with even more confusion. Brian pulls himself up as the dead soldier falls. Bits of bullets fall from his chest and he picks up his flying broom. "Act non chalante," he mutters to himself, "just an average guy here wearing a dress and not about to fly up in the air on a broom.." The soldiers lift their rifles again but do not fire, they call out to the other soldiers doing the search, not sure what to do now that their unit leader is dead. Brian suddenly smiles. It seems that fortune has favored him. Perhaps the Goddess is smiling upon him, or perhaps some how this witches gear was spared some how all those years ago. But whatever the reason, he's not sticking around for those soldiers to unleash another volley. He grips the broom and jumps up in to the sky, taking flight once more. 3. Reinforcements High above the forest, Brian takes a moment to look down. "So these goggles really do work," he says, the wind up hear not buffeting his eyes closed. He can almost aim the broom now but his arm muscles feel sore from the tight grip, his thighs just as pained and the dress doesn't agree with his chosen form of riding style, split legs. He floats up there wishing he knew how to be stable - the broom jerks about wildly, the wind knocks him around. Below, he can see he's in big trouble now. One of the Baselt tanks has joined the search and it appears they've spotted him. A few soldiers had tried to shoot him out of the sky but their bullets never reach him up here. "Safe, for now.." he says trying to comfort himself. The barrel of the tank starts to angle up toward him. "Interesting," he says and then nearly falls from the broom as the cannon of the tank fires. A large shell goes whizzing past him. In his haste to dodge the projectile, he starts to plummet out of the sky once more but manages to pull the nose of the broom back up just before the forest canopy. It's at this time that Brian sees something that all his friends would be jealous of. The rebels; the flow out of the trees, guns firing and a rocket shoots across the field of battle and hits the tank in its side. An energetic explosion takes out the soldiers surrounding it and soon a full skirming has begun. "Tracie," called Genevieve, "we're getting a lot of Baselt movement in the forest. On the radio they're claiming to be chasing a witch.. no, a teenage boy. I'm getting mixed reports. They're moving a tank in, they have four dozen or so troops sweeping the forest already." Genevieve worked the radio. To stay once step ahead of Baselt they have to listen in on their conversations. The Baselt are so paranoid about their technology that they have never tried to integrate it in to Oftian society, preferring instead to merely claim it to be the superior way of life over magic but never to prove it beyond conquering and crushing everything in their path. Without magic, the Oftians have had to fight fire with fire. They have limited supply of rifles, explosives, rocket launchers and of course radio equipment. Once the Baselt discovered a resistance cell with one of their radios but concluded that there's no way the rebels could have known how to use it. One can hope that that arrogance will be their downfall. Genevieve's grand mother was a warrior witch and she hopes like many of the rebel women that one day they will get their magic back and be able to rid their homeland of the Baselt. She was a short woman who had been fighting the war all her life, blonde hair, blue eyes, a real beauty but so intent on her war career she had little time for anything else. The same story is true of most of the rebels. Tracie was the cell commander. They had standing orders to "make life difficult for the Baselt" and that was something she was good at. Raids on their camps, poison in their food supplies. It wore on her though as the Baselt would often take out their anger on nearby towns or villages in retaliation. "A witch," she said with a smirk, "impossible. But.. if they're scrambling then this could be a perfect opportunity for us." She was a stern woman, motherly looking, a crooked nose and dark hair. She stood tall at 6'1 with a warrior lineage similar to Genevieve's. Fighting war was no longer just women's business. Their rebel cell comprised of eight women and five men. The men were not shy at jumping in to battles but the military tradition has always been dominated by the witches. The troop gathered their gear and moved out. They were always ready to leave with haste because you never knew when your position might be given away or given up or simply stumbled upon. But now they were heading in to battle against the Baselt. They'd done it hundreds of times before. As they moved in to position one of the men called down the line, "Look at what the tank is aiming at!." Every body looked up and saw the unmistakable silhouette of a witch on broom high in the sky. As the tank fired its canon every body took a deep breath and watches as the witch tumbled and then swooped back in to the air. Tracie saw their opportunity and cried out, "Shoot the tank, move in, fire!". Brian watched in disbelief as the Baselt soldiers became overrun by the well camouflaged Oftian rebels. He stayed up in the air a little longer, surveying the scene. At the edge of town was a bigger group of Baselt soldiers and two more tanks. They had become alerted since the first tank exploded and were starting to assemble themselves. Brian knew he had to warn the rebels so he gingerly lowered himself down to the forest and in to their midst. 4. Answers Brian crashed to the ground again but found the difficult landing not nearly as painful while wearing the magical dress. It was about as ungraceful as it can get. Genevieve rushed over, Tracie following behind. "She might be hit," called out genevieve and to Brian's embarrassment. He was not hit, he was not a she, he was just a guy who didn't know what he was doing. He pulled himself back up and saw the looks of surprise on the rebels faces. "But you're a guy?" "Last time I checked," quipped Brian back and smiled too cockily. "But how is this possible?" demanded Tracie. "I don't know, but I saw two more tanks and a heap more soldiers moving this way," said Brian, unable to remove the burn of embarrassment from his cheeks as Genevieve's eyes roamed over his attire. Tracie didn't need to hear much more for now. She whistled and motioned with her arms and the group of rebels sprung in to action. They secured as many weapons as they could and disappeared in to the forest. "Look, you'd better come with us, we can't let you fall in to their hands." "Thank you," Brian replied with relief. The walk through the forest was not like his first attempted escape. This time, they had more of a head start and they knew where they were going. It was almost night fall when they arrived at their back up camp. Each time they engaged the enemy, they would leave their old camp behind and move on to a new camp that had been pre-set up. Tracie and Genevieve took Brian in to a tent and they all sat down. Tracie got right to the point, "Two generations without magic and you, a boy, suddenly start flying through the air. Talk." Brian knew this question was coming, but he still had no answers. "I don't know. I found this stuff in a basement and I was going to sell it for money. But the broom, it started to fly while I was holding it and then in the forest a soldier shot me and the clothing was in my back pack and it protected me and.." and so came a rambling practically incoherent story from Brian about his ordeals of the day. Dinner arrived, a hot soup and Brian eagerly dug in. The aches and pains of the days battles started to set in and he tried as much as possible not to move. "I see," Tracie said, eyeing the young man before her, "It seems to me that you may be our countries greatest hope. They'll be looking for you. They know it was a young boy who flew on a broom. We must keep you a secret. We also need answers, real answers. There's only one place we can get chose answers now." Genevieve looked fearful, "What you can't be crazy? There's no way we can just walk in to Baselt and steal back one of the military training manuals. And Brian can't just go wandering around dressed in drag." Brian coughed up some soup and realized he was still dressed as a woman. "Er, you don't have any clothes I could wear?" Tracie shook her head, "No, you don't seem to understand. We need to go further, we need to complete the falsehood, to trick onlookers in to thinking you're a woman. They will never suspect that after seeing a boy take flight." Tracie considered carefully what Genevieve had said as her statements sunk in to Brian. "Genevieve.. we don't have to walk in to Baselt," she said, her grin growing wide, "we now have the element of surprise: flight." Tracie stood up and walked around her tent for a moment as the pieces start to fall in to place. "Here's what we'll do. We need an Oft training manual and they're all in Baselt. So, Brian you will go with Genevieve to Baselt. You'll fly across the border and make contact with one of our sympathizers on the other side. It'll be risky, we've never met them, but they send us reliable information all the time. Brian, you'll go dressed as a woman so that no one will recognize you. Genevieve, you will make sure no one recognizes him, understood?" Both Brian and Genevieve looked at each other in surprise. Genevieve the good soldier simply said "Yes ma'am," and then turned to Brian, "You can bunk in my tent for the night." Tracie gathered her things and said, "I'm turning in. Genevieve you can begin your mission tomorrow." She left the tent. Brian was left feeling dumb founded. He had always wanted to be a rebel but now he was in the thick of it. People were shooting at him, trying to kill him. He had unlocked an ancient power and now every body was counting on him to some how use it to win the war. To top it all off, he had to do the whole thing in a dress. "But it's a dress," complained Brian. Genevieve countered, "It's a traditional military uniform regardless and there's no way you're going anywhere without it on. Not if it can stop bullets. You're too valuable to be left undefended." Brian could understand the logic, but it was the next step that was styming him. An outfit had been laid out in front of him. It was Baseltian, a tight looking corset with a bright floral design on it, a long flowing white dress that was worn under it but worst of all were the boots. The boots had a wicked five inch heel to them that would be very hard to walk in. Around the ankle of the boots was an elaborate catch that you had to squeeze closed. It hugged your ankle tightly and you had to know the secret female technique of unlatching it to get the boots back off again. Well, it wasn't that secret, you just squeezed the sides and the latch released but it had taken Brian ten minutes to get them open again. He let out a huff and ran his fingers through his hair, "I'm doing this," he declared finally, "but only because if I don't you're right - they'll find me and lock me up and throw away the key. And," he added only just having come to the conclusion himself, "I do want to learn how to do magic. May be I really can help us win the war." He pulled the dress on, but over the top of the witches dress. It was awkward but Genevieve was more than happy to help. She commented, "What will we call you while we travel? How about Brianna." Brian was a little surprised and furrowed his brow as the flowing white dress fit tightly over his already squeezed and battered body. The effect of the witches dress really did give him a delightfully feminine figure. "Brianna? Well.. yeah okay, I guess that makes sense. Wow we're really going to be undercover in enemy territory," he said as the notion just hit him. Genevieve was worried about this. He'd never seen any real action until yesterday and now they were throwing him in to the thick of it. If they could get that manual then may be he'd be able to caste spells and end this horrible war immediately. It would be worth it, she told herself. Next came the corset. The white corset was printed with red and pink roses. It was wrapped around and Brian could feel the strict boning wrap about his torso. As Genevieve started to tighten it, the wind was forced from him and he had to struggle to breath normally. His already feminine figure went in to overdrive as an inch and a half was removed from his waist. A young aspiring warrior made her entrance in to the tent just long enough to hand Genevieve a long haired red wig. She peered at Brian with a mixture of interest and judging eyes before she left. Genevieve said, "This will help hide your identity." She handed Brian the wig. In his hands it felt soft and he said, "And all this'll be on my head?" Of course, Genevieve's long hair was usually done up in a bun so that fighting was easier, "Yes Brianna." Genevieve got the clippers and trimmed off Brian's short brown hair until he was bald. Brian didn't mind, he'd done that plenty of times. Next, she rubbed a temporary glue over his dome and took back the wig, settling it in place with great care. "It should hold for a few weeks, hopefully long enough for our mission," she explained. Brian gave it a tug, feeling the glue on his scalp hold it in place. There was a lot of hair there, a lot of weight to it, a lot of body, a lot of red. "So I'm a red head? I've never had this muu-" he said, his words cut off as Genevieve started to brush out the hair, encountering several knots. The tug on the knots hurt almost as badly when the glue pulled as with real hair. "Ow!" he exclaimed. Genevieve just grinned, "Suck it up soldier boy." Soon she had his hair straightened out and they moved on to the boots. Brian pulled them up his legs with difficulty and Genevieve snapped the anklets closed with a grunt of force. They were a tight fit but that was the fashion of Baselt. "Now let's see," she said looking Brian over, "Brianna is almost ready for a test run, but, Baseltian women are idiots, they let the men dictate everything. You've seen the pictures, they wear make up." Genevieve was almost as offended by the notion as Brian was, so it was not a she vs he issue at all, more a Oft vs Baselt issue. Genevieve set to work on Brian's face, reshaping his eye brows, plumping up his eyelashes, a a foundation to even out his complexion, touch of blue eye shadow, some eye liner and finally a distinctly Baseltian ruby red lipstick. Genevieve stepped back to admire her handy work and said, "My turn," with almost as much dread as Brian had felt when he began this whole process. For the first time, Brian saw Genevieve with her long blonde hair down. She was stunning. She too put on a long white dress and similar shoes. Her white corset was decorated with green embroiling that looked like a creeper bush. She did her make up almost identically and then helped Brian up on those five inch heels. The pair made their way over to a full length mirror and took turns looking at themselves and each other. "I know this is wrong," said Brian, "But you do look amazing like this. May be the Baseltians are on to something." Genevieve glowered for only a second and then countered quickly, "Oh but Brianna, have you noticed your own appearance? I think you're the prettiest of us both." 5. Baselt Brian tried to slip in to the role of Brianna. Their survival depended on fooling the Baseltians in to thinking they were both Baseltian women. They worked tirelessly on their accent and enough foreign words to get by. Brian had to also learn how to cope with the high heels but both of them had to deal with the tight corset. It was impossible to think of fighting in their current state of dress. Brian also practiced flying in the restrictive clothing and found that not being able to twist his torso around gave him a certain stability while flying. Soon he had the basics down and he was even able to carry Genevieve with him if she held on really tight. They had had a few nasty crashes already. The band of rebels had slowly made their way toward the Baseltian border. It was the most heavily defended and guarded area of Oft and there were strict rules that no one from Oft ever be allowed to enter Baselt. They found what they decided was a weak spot in the border. A small village along its edge. They blended in to the crowd as best they could to do their reckon and took the information back to Tracie, Brian and Genevieve. At night, there were fewer troop movements and guards so flying across might be possible without detection. It was the day before their attempt at crossing the border when Genevieve sat down next to Brian, who she was trying to think of as Brianna to talk. "My grand mother was a witch. My mother wanted to be a witch when she was a little girl and I hope that one day I can be a witch if we find a way to get our magic back," she said bluntly, "so to see you, a boy, suddenly doing magic. It makes no sense to me.. magic is for women, not men. We do the amazing things, we give birth to people and we give birth to ideas. It's like, when they took our magic they took our femininity." Brian understood, he'd heard this sentiment before. "You're afraid that the Goddess has given me powers but there might be no way to give you powers too?" "No," said Genevieve, "I've never really known magic only heard the stories and tales. I know our odds aren't great but if there's a way our ancestors knowledge can help make a witch out of you then I will do my best. No.. I brought this up because my mother taught me a few spells." Brian understood even more now and an excited gleam caught his eye. He'd been practicing a quick-draw of sorts, pulling the wand from its hidden place and twirling it between his fingertips. He did so now, plucking it out and watching as his red nails gleamed in the light. His eyes caught sight of them and he had forgotten that they had been painted red. The squeeze of the corset was enough of a reminder about how he was presenting himself, but sometimes you could forget for a moment. Genevieve noticed that look, "Yeah tell me about it," she said holding up her similarly decorated fingernails, "I can't believe Baseltian women dress like this every single day. What a chore," she said and they both agreed. "The first spell was said to summon fire, like a fire ball. You would say the words and flick the wand and shoot the fire out. Ilst Il Un Intoratum." Brian let the words work around in his mouth a few times before and picked a target. A small stick not too far from them. He lifted the wand and started the spell, "Ilst Il Uuhhh!" he said as the wand in his hand started to heat up incredibly. It got too hot and he dropped it. Sparkles exploded from it and several small fires began to blaze. Brian quickly stomped on the wand itself as fire surrounded it. Several rebels came running and doused the flames quickly. Brian picked up his wand again with fear. "Er," he said looking at Genevieve who was also at a loss for words. "May be we should wait for the manual," she replied and Brian nodded, putting the wand back in its hidden place, "Agreed!" For all their preparation, the incursion in to Baselt was surprisingly simply. Night fell and the pair of dainty looking ladies flew up in to the air on broom stick and quickly across the border. Brian steeled himself to think of himself as Brianna, he did not want to slip up and give them away. His fake female voice had improved significantly since they had begun their preparations and it helped that he did it in his fake Baseltian accent too. He could sort of slip back and forth between Oftian male and Baseltian female with ease. Long red hair fluttered in the wind and he wished he could bring his witches hat and flight goggles but they were not part of the disguise. Genevieve had her arms wrapped about his.. no, he must think of himself as Brianna. Genevieve had her arms wrapped about Brianna's tiny waist, holding on as they had practiced. From above, the towns looked like little camps of fireflies with lights flickering here and there. Their destination was the first major town near Oftian borders called Urney. There much of the spoils of war had been taken and they were certain there they could find a manual or three. It was also in Urney that they would make contact with the Baselt underground. Once upon a time, ten or so generations ago, Baselt was a thriving nation of magic users with witches as plentiful as in Oft. But something had happened, something unknown and lost to the ages. The machine was invented. At first, simple things like eye pieces that could see in to the distance. The witches started to feel ill and some even lost their magic. It was some kind of sickness and it had come from the heart of Baselt, but no one knew what it was. The enemies of Baselt to the north looked on with hungry eyes as Baselt became an easy target. They took action and attacked with full force. But Baselts technology had continued to advance. They had fire throwing devices on wheels they called catapult and arrow launching devices they called ballista. As the advancing armies faught, at first the witches of the north were winning but the Baseltian technology continued to find innovative ways. It was a harsh skirmish until one day, the witches of the north began to lose their power too. And so it was that Baselt began to grow. Every generation or so, more and more neighbors lost their magic and fell to the technology of Baselt. Soon the idea of using magic in Baselt was a lost and forgotten memory as the empire grew and grew. But as their way of life left magic behind, so too was forgotten the glory of their women. They became locked in to the role of mothers, child bearers with nothing more to their nature than obeying the men who would lug heavy machinery around to fight their wars. But not forgotten by the women was a once proud heritage, a lost way of life and a silent wish that some how one day they would be respected again. So was born the Baseltian underground. It was a strange thing to be walking amongst so many people, people who were your enemy, but so many people who now thought you were a woman. In all but his own mind, Brianna was a woman to all those around him. Her figure was fine, her make up was perfect and her hair was gloriously red. She fit in to the mill of people roaming through the city as if she were born to it, gliding along on higher high heels. Genevieve was not having quite as easy a time. She was not born to flit about, she was a warrior and despite being the one to chide Brian so much, she now feared she might be their undoing. The hustle and bustle of the streets was daunting. Since the war, no Oft city could prosper like this and to add insult to injury, this city seemed completely ignorant to the plight of occupied Oft. Self propelled machines made their way slowly down the street as if by magic. But they knew better, it was technology, something that Baselt did not want to share with any one but a fully conquered and integrated nation. They found their destination on the corner of a cobble stone street. It was a small apartment occupied by an elderly man and woman who had a spry step to them. Even at her older age, the woman still wore the pretty dresses and corsetry of Baselt. It was the fashion to follow after all. Annabelle was her name and her husband of forty years was Randalf. Annabelle explained that they had joined the underground after Randalf had come back from war in Oft and seen the horrors his people had committed. They began to broadcast by radio which troops were coming and going across the border in to Oft. To Annabelle and Randalf they had just picked up two undercover female agents from Oft. It was very exciting for them both and they took good care of them. They updated their fashion wardrobe to make them blend in better, helped gather intel about some of the noble houses that kept trophies from Oft and fed them. They did not realize that Brianna was actually a man nor a witch, but they were curious why she kept a broom with her all the time. All too soon it was time to leave the leisurely life behind. Brianna and Genevieve had almost gotten used to the hearty meals and hot scented baths. They had a mission to perform and Brianna was getting itchy palms to learn how to actually caste spells. They said their goodbyes to Annabelle and Randalf and headed in to the night to invade a noble house. 6. Home Invasion Crime was low as almost every male in Baselt was part of the military. The entire nation was embroiled in dozens of wars on all fronts as the blight against magic spread day by day. It seemed to be gaining in speed too. As such, there were no guards roaming the streets, the police dealt only with day to day issues. There were no guards in a nobles home either. Breaking in was surprisingly simple as the pair just flew over the high walls and in to a court yard below. Luck was with them, because through the first door they hit jack pot. On display were parts of witches uniforms, brooms snapped in half like twigs, some wands tabbed through the middle with pins on the wall and in a book shelf, they found several copies of "Recruit of Oft training manual." Genevieve also found a book called "The blight of time" which seemed to take price positioning on the book shelf. The pair made a quiet exit from the noble home and then the city, finding refuge out by a stream near a field. The light of the moon gave them ample reading time. Genevieve opened it up and began to read. It seemed to be a book theorizing on how magic had left the women. It talked about the headaches and how it all began in the capital of Baselt hundreds of years ago and slowly spread. What was curious to Genevieve is that she too was felling headaches, the further they had come in to Baselt, the stronger they were getting. Meanwhile, Brianna was reading through the manual. Unfortunately, it did not describe how to do magic but it listed off several offensive and defensive spells. It must have been assumed that young ladies would be taught the basics of magic by their mothers and grand mothers. There was no need to write down "the obvious". Brianna tried the fire spell once more but this time she got to read the words as they were meant to be spoken, not from a hand-me-down pronunciation. She lifted her wand and gave it a flick and fire light up the area as it flew in to the stream below, crackling and sizzling causing steam to rise. Genevieve looked up sharply and gasped, "Oh my. You flew, you wore armor but until now you were not truly a witch." She leaped up and hugged Brianna and gave him a kiss on his cheek. Brian had never enjoyed such an embrace by a woman before and returned the gesture, feeling a tingle inside but also confused because it was the embrace of a woman to another woman, not of a woman to a man. He felt disappointed some how that he had been cheated by fate. "There's a lot I don't know but there's something you should know that I now know that no one has known for hundreds of years probably," Brianna started to ramble to Genevieve, who looked at him patiently but with confusion. "I can feel something, in Baselt. It's a sort of a... whirlpool." Genevieve opened up a page in her book and showed a picture of a tower to Brianna, "Is it this?" She had a hunch. A tower had been built by the then greatest witch of all Baselt. It was to be a study of a new kind of magic, a new way of conquering and expanding her power base. She wanted to be the supreme ruler of all nations. No one knew what really went on in that tower but it was said that she was the first to die from the disease and the first to lose her magic. She disappeared and no one knew what happened to her. Brianna nodded, "Yes, that's it, i can see it. It's something magical. Something really powerfully magical. I can sense it but I don't understand it. If only some one with magic could tell us what it is. Genevieve, if there's no magic in Baselt or Oft or any of the other neighbors of Baselt.. but I can do magic and I can feel magic being done in Baselt. It stands to reason that may be this tower is the root of the problem." Genevieve nodded in return, "I was starting to get that feeling too when I began reading this book. The author sort of hints at it but," she said flicking forward to the final chapters, "It also says that the royal house of Baselt took ownership of the tower and never let any one near it and it has been that way ever since." The pair looked at each other and they knew what they had to do. "We blend in, no on has even questioned our attire or accents in weeks now. We can get to Baselt probably before the sun has even come up," formulated Genevieve, "and we can bypass the security of the tower by flying straight up in to it. May be, just may be, we'll get some answers." 6. The Machine The wealth of many conquered nations had flowed in to Baselt for decades and it showed. The city was massive, stretching from one side of a mountain range to the other. As they flew toward the city, the sun was rising and they were running out of time. Their destination was obvious though; it was a large tower in the center of the city that dominated the city scape. A few people down on the streets were starting their morning routines but the pair of Oftian rebels passed them by overhead. The air was cold and the flight through the night was tiring, but the adrenaline was pumping, the pair had a purpose now and they knew they were the only two people who had an inkling that may be there was a way to set things right. The tower had several balconies covered in pidgin dung. No one came up here it seemed and the doors were unlocked. They landed and made their way inside. The floors were dusty and murals hung faded on the walls of times long forgotten. A short flight of stairs took them up to the highest room in the tower where they saw something beyond comprehension that stole the breath from their lungs and several beats from their hearts. Dangling from the ceiling by cables was an old wizened woman. Her eyes were rolled back in delirium as she was connected to a gigantic machine that pumped and whirred and hissed as it seemed to feed her life. Her mouth and nose were covered as was most of her body. She was limp and as they pair approached, it became imminently obvious that she was also very dead. A few desks circled the room covered in ancient notes. "Here," said Brianna as she found a diary, dated from several hundred years ago and started to read the last entry, "Finally, my magic is ready and the machine is ready. I have created a way to sustain life forever, but a few minutes in this contraption and I will draw a little life energy from every living person near by, extending my life by hundreds of years. I will become immortal with this machine." Genevieve looked on, horrified, "You mean this, this is the witch who built the tower? She was trying to become immortal and look what it did to her." Brianna could only nod in disgust as she looked around the room and pointed to the heart of the machine, "In there, I sense the magic in there." The two approached and pried open a panel to reveal a glowing crystal. "This must be how it was done, it's been draining magic for hundreds of years and just keeps on going. We have to stop it." Brianna nodded in agreement, "There's no two ways about this," she said and plucked her wand out from behind her giving it a twirl. "For Oft and our freedom," she said with a snarl and caste her fireball at the crystal. It melted away and the machine started to puff harder and harder before it puffed no more. The room fell silent and the two Oftians were at a loss for words. Genevieve summed up her feelings by turning toward the dead witch who caused so much harm and spat at her, "You evil witch, you have destroyed the world!" Brianna wrapped her arms about Genevieve and gave her a hug. It would have been a touching moment, but Genevieve began to cry tears, then cry in pain as she hugged her head, "Ahh it hurts," she cried out and Brianna was at a loss for words. She held her as best she could but she didn't know what should happen. Howls came from the city below and all across the lands as the suppressed witch populace began to feel the flow of magic fill them once more. That part of their brains that gave them the gift had been dead to them and now the dull ache was lifted, it was like the worst hang over you could ever imagine. A few moments later, it had passed. Genevieve slumped in to Brianna and panted heavily to catch her breath. "It's stopped. I think that magic was in our heads." Brianna nodded, "I could hear screams coming up from the city. If you're up to it, would you like to try some magic?" She plucked out her wand with a twirl and also the manual, opening it to the relevant page. Genevieve nodded her head and steeled herself like a good soldier. She took the wand and looked back at the dead woman hanging by inert cables and tried the simple fire spell, thrusting it toward her body with hatred. The dead woman burst in to flames immediately. "So it was her, it was her who did all this all that time ago," remarked Brianna and the two watched her burn up. "We have a fighting chance now. We should gather up what we can find here and go before somebody thinks to investigate." They gathered up all of the old witches notebooks and Brianna caught sight of an old worn witches hat, "Hey, now that's what I'm talking about." She put it on her head and cackled as they took to the skies. Now people were noticing the flight of a witch and another woman on broom stick over the city of Baselt, a sight not seen for hundreds of years. Many pointed, some cheered and of course those with rifles pointed and shot - but they were too high to be hit. 7. Magical War No one knows just if any one in Oft knew how to do magic any more, but they could only hope that the war would turn their way. The damage was done now, the country of Baselt was in disarray. People were asking questions and women were starting to feel a certain empowerment that they had been lacking for so long. The occupation and reinforcements to Oft began to dwindle over the next few weeks. The rebels, aided by the first witch to take to the skies in two generations were able to coordinate and organize an invasion of the Oftian capital and take it back with extreme prejudice. The war was not over though. Many Baseltian troops still remained in their country and Baselt was not about to give up so easily. As much fun as it was to become Brianna and go in to espionage, it was time for Brian to return. The secrets of their ancestors started to unlock as those old enough to remember imparted their knowledge. New magical armor was forged and new flying brooms were created. New wands were summoned and a new kind of army was started. Brian was able to hang up his dress and replace it with a mans uniform built for his body that could almost protect him as well as the ancient armor had. More and more women were stepping up to the front lines in the war effort, using the most basic spells they were able to deflect and count attack against bullets. Tanks were a great deal harder and Brian found himself in constant need as the most experienced magic user in the ranks. More and more men were starting to discover the gift too. It seemed that through the ages, the genes typically associated with magic had migrated from men to women - magic found a way to rebirth itself in a dead zone. Now that the curse was lifted, both men and women were able to fight side by side, slinging spells at their enemy. But the war is not won yet, for Baselt has begun to learn the art of magic. They are behind Oft in many ways, but they control the largest empire in the world and the military might in troops and weapons to back it. Now they had begun to add magic to their ranks it was going to be tough going. But at least, finally, Oft would be able to liberate itself. Genevieve and Brian found themselves with a special bond. One of trust and mutual embarrassment in their adventures dressed as pretty things of Baselt. They later married and from time to time, Brianna would come out to play.