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A Self to Kill For by Tegeli [Note: Reading the story 'The Phantasm in the Fog' before this one is recommended.] CHAPTER I: Binding Wounds Sand under generations of footsteps had ground unsightly spots into the white stone of the floor. Yet the hall of audiences --with its the large pillars and high ceiling--retained ancient dignity. On the low dais slouched a man and stood a woman. He looked too old and she too young, but appearances were admittedly deceptive among sorcerers. The woman, still a girl despite her considerable height, was dressed in heavily armoured court attire. Neither was armed with any visible weapons or symbols of power. A herald introduced the man as the exarch, with an extensive list of titles, and the woman as the 'esteemed daughter' Deneisin. My husband Reg had been allowed to keep his sword, as a gesture of either respect or mockery. Regardless, we weren't dead, which was a surprise. I dragged Reg into a mutual deep bow, as he was still dazed from the fighting trance. Over the months, his rages had only become harder to shake and easier to sink into. "So, you actually were sorcerers," the exarch said. I moved slightly in front of Reg and said, "Yes-- No, Lambency. We are merely novices of poor training." "Whelps or not." The exarch leaned forward on his alabaster throne. "You must have been aware, that all sorcerers must report themselves, should they enter a walled town protected by Peritian law?" I nodded deep. "Yes, Lambency." "And now, due to your insubordination, an official of the law is dead." "An official?" Reg snapped. "Those thugs were trying to rob us!" The exarch turned to the woman at his side. "He is not in control of his trance states. Darling, would you put him down?" "I will, father." Deneisin stepped from the dais and walked towards us. "He has so many unhealed wounds, the poor thing." Her voice filled the hall. She sang of lesions and bloodshed, of tearing flesh and ripped arteries. The pain of an old broken skin on my cheek returned with the warmth of trickling blood. I opened my mouth to resist. The exarch pointed a finger at me and swung it, and voice parched in my throat. Reg stepped forward, yet his answer turned into a howl. He staggered. Spreading crimson stained his clothes. I wrapped my arms around him, but he collapsed from my grasp. Deneisin's song ceased. I kneeled over unconscious Reg. He had no new injuries, but all of his recent wounds had been reopened. I tried to keep my voice steady as I repeated the words to staunch bleeding and mend the flesh. "Stop." Deneisin's hand on my neck was like an executioner's axe. "Save him from dying, but no more. Otherwise I will have to make sure he stays down for good." My mouth twisted, but I obeyed. After Reg was as stable as a man criss-crossed with freshly opened wounds could be, Deneisin prompted me to walk with her to the exarch. One of the guards had lost consciousness. Blood stained the floor as he was dragged out. Several others showed signs of bleeding under their armour, but they kept their places with barely any flinching. A faint and not unfriendly smile was on the exarch's face. "Good. Our little demonstrations are done both ways." His voice was fatherly, though considering the circumstances, deceptively so. "You will have to admit that it is graceful of me to keep you alive." "Yes, Lambency." I kept myself from sneering. "What was that talk about an official?" Deneisin swung her hand. "Someone I send to check the suspicions about your... Status. He was told to see, if he could provoke you into using magic." "Seems he got over his head," I said and glanced behind me. Servants had gathered to wrap bandages around Reg. "He was greedy; a useful characteristic for a servant in his line of work." Deneisin shrugged. "Perhaps he assumed a mugging would profit him regardless of if you were sorcerers or not." I pushed my hands into the sleeves and clasped my wrists. "What do you want from me? Of us?" The exarch's smile widened. "I need the services of reliable sorcerer. Those are understandably hard to come by." The esteemed daughter crossed her arms. "I could handle it, father." "Yes, darling. You could. Nevertheless, I want to make sure." The exarch turned back to me. "That man with you was sinking in and out of a poorly realised fighting madness, so he can't serve my purposes. Yet with him as my guest, you will be most agreeable, isn't that right?" I spoke slowly in order not to snap. "Yes, Lambency. Very much so." "Good. Here's what I require of you. Listen well, so you can decide if you prefer doing my bidding over your deaths." CHAPTER II: Lady of Fine Blood As we drove away from the city of Misaj and its bleached walls, the luxurious moisture of the mulberry groves and irrigated fields turned back into the dead shrubland, where dust was like fog. The light carriage was cramped and its ride so bumpy, I'd have preferred to be on horseback. The dangerous woman pressed to my shoulder didn't help. She was taller than me, but lithe under her armoured coat, like a little girl had been stretched until her neck was long and animated like a bird's. Despite her gangling proportions, her movement were never anything but assured and graceful. Deneisin turned to smile at me. "Are you going to stay quiet all the way?" Her voice was too low for the glass-like grace of her features. "Don't you think that would make this journey boring? We should get to know each other. Go on, ask me a question. Anything. I insist." Her stare didn't hide that she would enjoy making me squirm. I broke my indecisive silence by blurting, "How old are you?" And immediately I regretted it. "Good question, if an insensitive one. I must wonder what's the real question behind it? Am I really his daughter, or is it just a game between two lovers?" "I didn't think that!" "Some do." She shrugged. "I haven't made myself look any younger than I am." Her misunderstanding of my intentions was trivial. Nevertheless, it was prudent to correct any assumptions, which might concern my own vanity. "What I meant was that you seem young for you talents." "Oh!" Her smile was well-pleased. "I guess I am. Father says I will be the one to depose the Tyrant, but such talk is foolish. Idle praise to a man's own pride through a surrogate." Deneisin coiled a few of her fingers around some of mine. I fought down the instinct to pull my hand away like from a venomous insect. She said, "Now's my turn. Who is that man --your Reg-- to you? I'd guess you are lovers, but siblings too can be... Intimate." "He's my husband." My voice cracking took away all the confidence I had tried to affect. Deneisin turned only a little more towards me, yet her face almost touched mine. I froze still, but unfortunately she was not a beast of prey fooled by that. "I'm still bored," she said and kissed me on the cheek. "Please... Don't." I tried squirm away, only to push against the wall of the carriage. "What's the matter? Yes, yes, you are married. But these things don't count when there's no men involved." Her voice became a husky whisper. "If you aren't motivated yet... Know that I can tell my father you failed to be of use. He'll kill your Reg. Yes, I am that petty." I whimpered as she placed her hand between my thighs. She touched my groin and recoiled. Her gasp quickly turned into a tightly pursed smile. "Oh. You are that sort of girl." Anger flared up to drown my shame. She might have been able to kill me effortlessly, but I was still a sorceress. "I am not this way by choice. As soon as I can, I will change my body completely." Deneisin smirked. "That sort of magic does not exist." "Yes it does!" The fervour of my voice was surprising. "There's been some more or less attested cases, and out of the all documented sorcerous transformations, it shouldn't be that complicated." She sat back straight, with a frown on her face. "I hope such spellcraft is rare. If it was convenient, my father would surely have me turn into a man." "Why? What, does he need a son?" Mundane nobility needed to maintain their male lines of succession, but only a suicidal fool would deny the prerogatives of a proper sorceress. "I have two brothers." She turned her head away. "Neither of them had an ounce of ability in the only skill that counts. Father wanted to have them killed, or at least gelded, but I helped them escape. Obviously he was beyond furious, but I am his 'darling', so I got away with a scolding." I let her squeeze my hand. "What... What happened to your brothers?" "Oh, they live in the outskirts of Misaj now. Eventually father agreed to only disinherit them. I smuggled them enough silver so they could start supporting themselves. Now they trade horses." She turned and smiled at me. "Are you actually interested, or just trying to distract me from groping you?" The playfulness of expression was warm and appeared genuinely tender with the moisture in her eyes. Despite all reason screaming against it, I was filled with an overwhelming sense of sitting next to a girl a few years younger than me, instead of being trapped with a lethal sorceress. I returned her smile. "You said we should get to know each other." CHAPTER III: Hidden by the Sun "So, what am I supposed to be doing about these 'heathens'?" I asked after we had got out of the carriage. "I'm not a priestess. I barely know anything about proper worship." Our only companion the driver began to take care of the horses. The tiny tower-fort guarding the pass was unmanned at the moment, but the driver reported that he had found almost-fresh hay and water inside the tiny stable. Down from the pass, an oasis filled the rocky valley with green. Under the lush canopy, the Sun's silver reflected from the abundant water. Forlorn pillars and crumbled walls reminded the world of long past splendour, though only a cluster of houses and farmsteads remained in place of the once great city. Our presence was an awful intrusion into such tranquillity. "Don't assume these are ordinary heretics, who merely go on about propitiating the gods in an ignorant way," Deneisin said. "These Khaasks consciously reject large parts of the truth. Worst of all, they are reluctant to revere the spirit of the despotate. Technically, that is treason." A shiver went through me. "I won't help you murder anyone!" Her laughter was amused yet not cruel. "That's not what we are here for. The despot has always been adamant that timely taxes appease him just as well as prayers. We'll just check that the rumours --about the Khaasks arming themselves, practising potent seditious magics and instigating banditry-- are indeed false." She chuckled. "It's funny, how the skittish poltroons in my father's council can believe that these silly little cults would dare to oppose Peritian sorcery." "What exactly will I have to do?" "I'll annoy them, and if they are rebellious enough to attack my inviolate person, you'll help me dissuade their determination. Peacefully, I presume. I take you don't enjoy killing?" "Of course I don't." She smirked. "Don't pretend it should be obvious. Remember to whom you are talking to, sorceress. These Khaasks should consider themselves fortunate that it is you with me." She placed a hand on her forehead. "I couldn't bear it, if I made you upset with bloodshed." I still wore my stiff riding boots, so the walk down to the oasis made its distance known in my ankles. I tried not to grimace from how much my legs hurt, and I did my best not whine, how we could have ridden in the carriage all the way down, even if the narrow stony path would have risked the wheels. "Why did your father send you alone?" "He did send you with me. Yet, I assume the real question was, why didn't he send some soldiers instead of his precious daughter." "And I assume you will answer that instead." Deneisin smiled. "There's no reason to menace one's subjects with a lance, when poking them with a dagger will do. Of course, in this case the dagger only appears to be the weaker weapon." She waved her arm to the direction away from Misaj. "Across the border, the Khaasks are openly defying their rulers. Instead of reacting with swift violence, my wise father suspects the Khaasks are lashing out merely out of desperation." "I see. And if treated gently, the Khaasks --even those outside our borders-- might think loyalty to the despotate was in their best interest." "Now you are thinking like a sorceress. Obviously we will have remind them that in our silken glove we can wield a scourge." The flutter of a rock's surface caught my eyes. The sandy lump was not made of stone at all. "A corpse," Deneisin said and pointed. My hopes of her being wrong were smashed as we got closer. The man lay on his face in the sand. Despite the wound on his back bleeding no more, I leaned over him, as if I could still help. I turned him around and placed a part of his robe on his face. "The wound was narrow. Was he ridden down?" I asked, despite there being no sign of a fight. With death in the air, the serenity of the town was unsettlingly silent. Deneisin shook her head. "I don't think so. Not enough force. The blade --or whatever it was-- inserted cleanly between the ribs. If he hadn't bled so, I would have guessed he had been stabbed only after death. This man didn't expect to be killed, though granted, he might have been drunk or otherwise poisoned." Because she seemed to know a thing or two about wounds, I didn't question her assessment. "What are we going to do now?" "Find out who has killed my father's subject, of course. Maintain your awareness. Something's awry here." While I wasn't unfamiliar with violence, I had never deliberately trained to kill anyone, with either magic or arms. Unfortunately claiming that you knew sorcery wasn't reliable method for dissuading fear, greed or anger. More often that not it would startle the foe into a frantic attack. Or convince them we were of no threat, as 'real sorcerers wouldn't try to talk first'. Too many times Reg had been forced to kill. In his battle rage no amount of pleading would stop him until nothing hostile moved. That only one man had died in Misaj was a stroke of luck, a small miracle. No wind stirred the trees or tall grass. Nothing moved on the street. If the view hadn't moved along with my eyes as we walked towards it, I would have assumed I was looking at a painting. "Is this place supposed to be this deser--" I hit the air in front of me like it was water, but I couldn't stop moving forward. When I understood my surroundings again, the Sun was gone. Yet though only the stars lit the sky, the shapes in the gloom appeared as distinct as under daylight. "Did we pass out?" Deneisin asked. Her voice was shrill but composed. My gaze found her noticeably shorter. She was now wearing a coat reinforced with more of both metal and delicate decorations. I wasn't in my travelling robes either, but a gown very much like during my wedding. Though in this one, the day-sky blue was pristine, and the bust was filled by much heavier breasts. "Sorcery," I stated the obvious and forced my gaze off from my own cleavage. "Indeed." Deneisin's hand shot out and patted on my groin. I yelped from surprise and gasped, as the oddness of the sensation sent a cold shiver up my spine. Deneisin frowned. "This illusion must have made us appear physically as we are inside. Or at least what we would prefer to be." "But you are so small!" In truth she was only a little shorter than me, but compared to her earlier stature she was diminutive. "My self-esteem is not without cracks. And I'm not a mouse or anything like that. But look at yourself. Like a headman's wife in a peasant's dress, with nothing but lumpy curves underneath." I couldn't ignore the curiosity about what truly was under the gown. My jaws clenched. I willed myself to stop reaching down with my hand, and failed. "Don't!" Deneisin took my wayward hand into hers. "This is just an delusion, Asai. Nothing here is truly real. Getting attached to it will surely leave you insane." She might have been right. But if Reg had been with me, I wouldn't have hesitated testing my body with him, illusion or not. However, the situation wasn't safe for indulging myself, even in thoughts. The routine exercise to refocus my mind was difficult, but seemingly successful. We needed better understanding of the circumstances, so I patted Deneisin's head with my free hand. "What did I just do?" She frowned. "Used an excuse to humiliate me, just to further establish that our physical experiences remain coincident." I nodded. "We should assume everything to be real. Just in case." Deneisin agreed. We continued into the town, but she didn't let go of my hand. It might have been precaution against the illusion deepening enough to separate us. I wouldn't question her aloud. In a way, it was like holding a potent weapon. Though the uncertainty of our surroundings was oppressive, I pitifully failed to keep my awareness on the outside world. The the weight on my chest was obvious with every one my steps, which were made clumsy by the new wider configuration of my hips. Cloth clung to my crotch much closer than before, but shiver-inducing sensations made clear that it wasn't a mere absence between my thighs. Deneisin's dry voice chilled the heat from my veins. "Another corpse." We found several more, all of them, save a pair of soldiers, alone. A few of them had been armed, but there was barely any sign of struggle. Each cadaver had only one wound, either between the ribs, to the throat or through the eye. "Doesn't seem like the work of raiders," I said. "Keen deduction." Deneisin pointed to the starry sky. "One of the blasphemies of the Khaasks is denial of the true existence of the Sun. I'm no astrologer, but based on the constellations, it should still be quite a while before sunset this time of the year. Could it be that we are trapped in the dream of some heretic, or a mad god?" "Sounds far-fetched," I claimed to calm my nerves. The 'dream' definitely had enticing characteristics, which were already threatening to trap my mind. Perhaps, after we figured out the truth of the situation, I could find out how to enact the same changes in the outside reality. No need to cling to an ephemeral delusion. We strode through the town without seeing any sign of life beyond the jittery dogs, gutter animals and the whispering trees and shrubs. When we saw a light emanating from the windows of a large structure, we headed straight to it. Based on the intricate carvings covering its walls, the relatively new building was a temple of sorts. While odd in style, most of the figures were recognisable as divine entities commonly revered in Peritland. Deneisin banged the sturdy door. "Let us in, or you will have to fix this door from splinters." "There's more than one of you?" a man's voice asked. "We mean no harm," I said. "Yes, just us, two unarmed women," Deneisin jeered. "One small and one pudgy." The latch clunked. The door swung to reveal the muzzle of a firearm almost as long as the man wielding it. "Put that away." Deneisin flicked her hand, and the gun's angrily smouldering match cord died. "Or I'll end up hurting you." Due to the illusion, I would have expected the hall beyond the foyer to be filled with beautiful people in the prime of their youth, but they were as varied in age and looks as any normal group of townspeople. I dreaded to step over the threshold, but entering the hall didn't turn me back into my former self. The man emptied the flash pan of his firearm and placed the weapon against the wall. He was short and showed his age, but his beard was trimmed and his robes clean and freshly dyed. "I apologize." He bowed. "My name is Tudhri. I was a scribe charged with keeping track of taxes. Now that our sage and the other appointed officials are dead, I guess I am the closest thing to a town leader. Did you come together? Are you both sorcerers?" "Yes." I made an official looking motion towards Deneisin. "This is the exarch's esteemed daughter. And I'm... her assistant Adzasai." Everyone within the earshot stumbled to their knees, and were followed by the rest of the hall. Deneisin's smirk became noticeably more satisfied. I helped Tudhri to stand up. He said, "You came to help us? But how? Kuur only left at what must have been dawn!" "Was Kuur a lanky man in a red-brown striped robe?" Deneisin asked. "If so, he's dead." A wail from further into the hall told Kuur hadn't been without loved ones. Deneisin continued, "And we didn't exactly come to help you." "But now that we are here, we will," I said and nodded. "Help, I mean. Can you explain what is going on?" Tudhri guided us to sit at a low table in the corner of the hall. A serene woman joined us with a tray of cups and warm drink. She bowed and introduced herself as Lisiv, Tudhri's sister and the widow of the local sage. Her countenance had no trace of the fidgety fear in her brother. Though Lisiv was in no means impolite, she regarded us with a dignified composure, which only slightly acknowledged Deneisin's status. "The murders started a week ago," Tudhri said. "At first we thought the people had merely disappeared for some unknown reason, but then we started to find the bodies." "Why haven't you killed it?" Deneisin asked. "You should have a good number of fighting men, as my father demands." Tudhri shook his dead. "Our soldiers must have been the first victims. There was never many of them. Just enough to hold the pass against raiders." Deneisin snorted and spooned more honey into her drink. "What is this magic that holds the town?" I asked. "My brother-in-law sacrificed himself to our gods," Tudhri said. "He asked that the nature of all intruders be shown, so the killer could not hide among us. And they answered." "So this killer is a shapeshifter?" Deneisin asked. "What does it look like now?" "We haven't seen it since," Tudhri said. "But now that gods have blessed us, it shouldn't be able to change faces." A hollow-eyed woman stood from a bench and walked towards us. Her voice wavered even more than her hands, "No, it can still take shapes of men! I saw it with my husbands face, even after the false sun had disappeared. But I knew my man was dead: his soul had spoken to me, while I slept, and told he had been murdered. The thing tried to convince me to go with it and flee the town, but my man would never had done that. This is our home!" Others guided the trembling woman back to a bench. "She's shaken by her loss," Lisiv said. "But not crazy. The monster could very well be able to change its shape despite the circumstances." "Lisiv!" Tudhri exclaimed. "It does not suit the widow of the sage to doubt the power of our gods." "Can we be so sure?" Lisiv smiled faintly. "My husband might have made an error in his request, or this might be exactly what gods intended for us. That would explain the further disappearances." She shrugged. "Admittedly, so could looters." "Why haven't you just left?" I asked. "The monster seems to only kill lone victims. You could gather together and carefully leave the town as a group." The Khaasks fell silent, with their grim faces downcast. "Simple," Deneisin said. "They have special dispensation from the despotate, to rule over themselves in this town. If they lived elsewhere, nothing would stop the local authorities from taking a dim view on their insistent blasphemy." Tudhri lifted his eyes, which were filled with fire. I was startled, not from his gaze, but by the possibility that he might overcome his fear and get himself killed with brave but unwise words. I poked my nearly empty cup over. "Oh sorry!" With the rag offered by Lisiv, I cleaned the tiny spill. "I've never heard about anything that can readily change their form like this killer apparently can. What is it?" Tudhri pulled his eyes away from Deneisin. "We do not know. Nobody has seen the monster and known for sure. Or at least lived afterwards. It's a clever thing." "Are you sure there's only one of them?" Deneisin asked. Tudhri's jaw dropped. He looked at Lisiv, who remained quiet as well. Deneisin took a long sip from her drink. "Apparently not." "Do you know why it's after you?" I asked. The scribe's eyes sank, and he shook his head. "No." "You lie." Deneisin stood up. The sound of metal scraping accompanied her slow steps. She stopped behind Tudhri. "This kind of mighty sorcery does not just happen by accident." She placed the edge of her palm on the man's neck. "You might wonder, how I'd kill a man with just one dainty hand. Speak more lies, and find out." "It's due to our sins," Lisiv said. "Tell the truth, brother." I cocked my head. "Your gods punish you, but also help you to deal with the punishment?" "Nothing like that." Tudhri sighed. "My sister is talking about mundane consequences of our deeds. The creature must have come from across the border, as a punitive attack. We have been gathering weapons to send them to our brethren there, who fight for their homes and lives against the infidel potentate's persecution." Deneisin sneered. "You aren't sending just weapons. The soldiers that should be protecting your town, they must be on a raid across the border. You have no right to wage your own wars, and now you pay the price." Tudhri's trembling head tried turn towards Deneisin, but he recoiled, when his neck touched her hand. "But the infidels across the border aren't friends to Peritians!" "They are not our enemies either. Give me a reason why I shouldn't kill you now, and leave the rest for your creature to take care of." "Please! We are your father's loyal subjects!" Deneisin moved her hand away from the man's throat. "Good enough." She turned to me and smirked. "See, Asai? These Khaasks are a reasonable folk." I frowned. At least she hadn't killed him. The Khaasks didn't know much more. What the sage had really done was a mystery to even his wife. The enchantment, which had given me the form I wanted, hadn't come from any established Khaask tradition or magic either me or Deneisin was familiar with. "We should come up with passwords," I said. "In case we get separated." "That won't work," Lisiv said. "The killer always knows, even when the word of trust has only been whispered or not said at all. Those, who have escaped from it, claim nothing in its speech or behaviour was obviously wrong." Tudhri nodded. "It can read minds." "That shouldn't be possible," I said. "Indeed," Deneisin said. "Even if you force tendrils into the victim's mind, it's impossible to make any sense of the mess. Most likely the killer uses short-distance scrying to determine the best words to say to convince its victims. It wouldn't necessarily have to intelligent at all." Deneisin's idea was equally far-fetched. Based on her smirk, she enjoyed the confusion it caused in the Khaasks. CHAPTER IV: Appropriated Existence While wandering the abandoned streets in the false dark, I wondered how I had been convinced by the plan, or more accurately the lack of it. Deneisin was sure the killer wouldn't be a threat to a sorceress, so according to her the risk to either us was minimal. The monster would likely avoid anything that looked like a threat, so we would have to be alone. In the end, my reluctance was pointless, as I had no better ideas to suggest. Soft footsteps made me turn around, even though it was just animals. The wind was whispers below my hearing. I could see in the gloom, but the shadows were as deep as a cloudless night, and when they moved, my body froze with a shiver. I made myself as unseen as I could in the middle of the street. If I had managed to for myself to scream, I could have sliced the oppressing silence. Foolish. Alerting the killer that I was nearly as frustrated as I was afraid would do no good. Even if Deneisin hadn't held the life my Reg, the townspeople were unsuited to help themselves. My contribution was necessary anyhow, as Deneisin hadn't even bothered to take off her armour. Even a small woman wouldn't appear like an easy victim, covered by half an knuckle of steel as she was. I sat down on a fallen pillar. Looking like I was searching for something would surely alert my quarry. I kicked off my shoes and enjoyed the touch of soft sand with my weary feet. Though the town was deserted, it still had eyes. A cut on my finger, and words of command brought me the attention of the lesser godlings of the ancient city. Unsurprisingly, the revealing enchantment had made them reluctant to show themselves, even though my eyes would only have seen vague shapes in their place. They were restless yet didn't avoid me. While they would gladly drink the blood of humans when offered, they disliked death. And they liked the lack of succulent offerings even less. "Lure the killer to me or the other sorceress," I told. "And you will be given honey cakes and earnest praise and pretty songs." "No fey lights trick this thing," the bush next to me rustled. "It will not heed the promises in the wind." "Do you know what it is?" "Sorcery," the moving sand sighed with the weariness from speaking too much. "Alright then." I forced myself up. "Guide me to the killer." I followed anything that might have been a sign; a pointed shadow, the faint reflection from a bronze pan, a suggestively swinging tree. It was impossible to know, if anything but imagination guided me. I had no power over these local little deities. They had only obeyed me out of a whim and curiosity, and could grow bored. Or decide I deserved to be punished for my perceived insolence. Even near-forgotten gods had prestige beyond their waned power. The corpse city around us must have been only a sand-covered memory when Khaasks put their own truth into words, yet still its traces lingered. My legs stopped, before I understood that the shape appearing around the corner was a man. Beyond the town, the Sun must have been setting, as the shadows made it hard to recognize his features until I was close to him. "Reg?" The man looked like my husband, yet his face was younger and lacked his scars. The familiar tall frame was wrapped in clothes a fresh Peritian cavalry officer might have worn. "Asai?" It was Reg's voice, though it lacked the rasp it had gained from his throat injury. "I couldn't recognized your... Figure. What happened to you?" "Stay back!" Reg stopped and let his arms fall. "This is some hostile magic, yes? The Sun was above the hills, when I walked into this town." "This town is prowled by a killer that supposedly changes its shape, so let's be careful." I took a step back. "How are you here?" "My wounds weren't that bad, so I escaped and followed you." He started to take a step but decided otherwise. "Where's that witch? Doesn't matter. We should leave, while we can." "No, Reg. The people here need help. And... This magic, it did more than just grow my breasts. I might be bodily a woman now. Thoroughly." "You 'might'?" Reg jerked a step forward. "I didn't really have to time to check! Should have I started to fondle myself? In this situation?" "Sorry. But isn't that great? What you... We wanted?" He paused. "Unless, it's just part of this illusion. I seem different here too, if only a little beyond my wounds having disappeared." If the monster could have created such a convincing image of Reg, it's magic was horribly powerful. Warmth like which I hadn't felt for a long time welled inside me. With a word or a mere gesture, we could retreat to one of the empty houses, where I'd let Reg explore my body and do everything we wanted to be done to me. It wouldn't matter, if I enjoyed it. Leaving the 'illusion' was already repellent, while the regret from not taking the chance was sure to be unbearable. "Let's not talk about that." My reason forced the words out, "We are in danger. This can't be real. The people here are mostly innocent. I promised to help." "Alright. We'll help together. What's the plan?" "There's no plan. I was just following some unseen folk towards the kill??" I glanced around. There was nothing that appeared like a further sign. "As far as I know, you could be the monster." "We have seen strange things together, but Asai, that sounds far- fetched. For one, I know that dress is the one you wore to our wedding. How could the monster be aware of that?" "It might be able to read minds. Or sense the future to know what to say." "That sounds implausible, at least to this extend. If the locals think that, it's likely the killer merely studied them carefully." With every step he took, sprinting away seemed ever more necessary. "Stop! Please." He obeyed, though he was already close enough for me to read the shadowed frown on his face. He asked, "Why would anyone send something that powerful to a little town like this?" "I don't know, Reg." Creature that could pretend to be anyone could murder anyone; end and start conflicts with impunity. Even sorcerers would be threatened, if all hands potentially wielded death. "Just stay beyond arms reach for now." "Hey!" It was Deneisin's voice. The metallic sound of her armour preceded her appearance from the twilight. "Good work, Asai. You found it." "No." I shook my head. "I think this is my husband." Reg's hand fumbled to his belt, though there was no sword there. "While I would prefer to repay the favour from earlier, I don't think I have the power. I'll leave with my wife, when this is over." Deneisin smirked. "I'm not going to let you take her to have her killed, fiend." I intoned a stave to make the air around me dance. After the small whirlwind died, I said, "We can easily prove we are sorcerers, at least." "I can't." Deneisin frowned. "My magic has not worked since we got here." My frame tensed. "You smothered the match of that firearm!" "Damn." Deneisin's form melted rapidly into what must have been my mirror image. The real Deneisin had exaggerated: my reflection was a bit plump at legs and hips, but not overly so. "But let's not get hasty. I'm sure you'd prefer to talk, yes? I'm not killing out of my own choice." "What are you?" I asked. "I were the same as you, I think. Though before I could walk, my 'master' twisted me until I was without form. With cruel witchcraft, he continued to change me further. After years of agony, I could ??with great effort?? look like others for a moment. But now it's so easy! I didn't even have a voice, before this wonderful spell that keeps the horrid sun away." She sighed with satisfaction. "Now, every change... It's as if I slipped into a real person. Without effort, my tongue says the most beautiful words. It never feels like lying. In a fair world, this would never end." "Yet you kill." She frowned. "I have to. Just as we have to breathe. But I have allowed my prey to stay in their temple, and if they left as a group, I could do nothing about it. And I wouldn't want to. If they left, I would be free." "Even sympathetic murderers are executed," Reg said and took a step forward. "How many has this creature killed here? Based on the corpses, more than enough to warrant very little mercy." "Wait." My image lifted her hands. "I'm not trying to sway you with a whimsical sob story. Instead, I'm offering my help. Asai, I know you could find your answers in me." Her form changed. Most of the curve of her waist disappeared as the hips narrowed, and her shoulders appeared wider without the filled bust. While the features of her face hardened only a little, along with the other touches, it was hard not notice the man I never wanted to be. "I'll help you figure out how I change my shape, if you help me. Drive the locals away, or let me kill them. They are not innocent to their misery. You have no duty to them." My eyes turned away from her, and my voice failed. It was not a choice: I wouldn't participate in such cruelty. Yet my own death was an option to consider beside going back to that form. She continued, "If you slay me, other killers ??monsters worse than me?? will come. Would you stay here to protect the town? A people, whose faith considers you evil for your nature? You would give up any chance to be what you are now. Trapped in this valley, you would wither, if not bodily then in mind and spirit. You'd never learn how to have the body you want. You'd never be the person you wish to be. You'd never have the family you desire. Unless your husband broke his vows to you, he'd never be a father. And never would you be a??" "Stop," Reg commanded. "That is enough." The muscles of my jaw were trembling iron. I had to close my eyes in order not to see my vision blurred by tears. When I felt the large body close, I leaned against Reg. Burning ice filled my torso. Faint wheeze escaped with my failed breath. I jerked away from the pain ??from Reg?? and turned. The blood-covered spike shifted back into Reg's hand. "I am sorry," he said. "That we must kill." The awareness, granted by the surging trance, kicked me out of the dream, which had been my life. Agony was information, and through it I could sense everything in me. My left lung was punctured, and the nicked heart pumped blood into the cavity around it. Fury threatened to flood over, and was only checked by the surety that giving into my anger would be the death of me. Faintly, in the background hum of my failing heart, I noticed the insides of my lower belly. They were different, yet blood flowed in the womanly tissue as it should. It would all have worked, for pleasure and creation. And it was being taken from me, by two capricious abominations with plenty of excuses for cold-blooded murder. I welcomed the loss of control, which had been so abhorrent, when it made my husband into a murderer. I laughed without breath, as I backed away. "You think you can stab a sorceress to death?" I didn't dwell on how odd it was, that I could talk with all the blood and froth in my mouth. Their right hands disappeared into bony blades. The beasts didn't attack straight away. They were afraid, and moved to encircle me. Warm blood gurgled through my back with the mockery of proper respiration. While I didn't care to end, I accepted the inevitability. What was impossible to swallow was that my murderers would go on to enjoy their filthy stolen unlives. Insulting me by wearing those faces. Perhaps they were lovers and would use our forms to blaspheme against the love between me and my husband. "You should die??" My voice broke into a scream, which forced air spirits into a fierce swirl around me. Dust filled the air and for a moment covered the monsters from my view. The female rushed at me, but the wind-currents obeyed my will and blasted her eyes with sand. I lifted my forearm to block her swing, and the blade stopped on my bone. The creature wearing Reg's face stumbled closer, blinded by dust. As the female lifted her arm for another strike, I dashed between them. Reg howled. I turned, but staggered and fell on my back. Gruesome rend traced from the male creature's neck to across his chest. The female turned her squinted eyes to me. Her face was twisted by a grimace, and her blade was covered with blood. I tried to clamber up, but strength was leaving my limbs. I hadn't trained to force my flesh beyond its limits. The throbbing of blood in my ears was fading, and the whirlwind was nearing its death. Beyond them I could hear the song. The chant was exultant and cruel. With it, Deneisin strode from shadow and dust. Reg screamed, as his wound widened, and his body twisted into a heap. The monster with my face slashed at Deneisin, who gripped the wrist and twisted the blade towards its owners throat. "Do you surrender?" Deneisin asked. "Yes!" The creature relaxed, and the esteemed daughter pushed the blade into the soft neck. The sorceress shrieked with laughter. She sang of a war goddess wading through rivers of blood and dancing in gore. The twitching and screaming bodies at her feet bled, broke and crumpled. Elation disappeared from Deneisin's face with weary sigh. She looked at me, frowned and came to kneel beside me. "How didn't that kill me too?" My voice was a weak hiss. She smiled. "My spells are only hard to direct when the target resists. Those two didn't know a thing about true sorcery." Her smirk disappeared. "I can't mend your wounds. That sort of magic does not obey me." "It might obey me." It was Reg's voice, coming closer with running footsteps. He appeared into the my shadow-constricted vision and kneeled next to me. "I'm sorry... I was searching for you in the wrong part of the town." He started his futile chant of healing. It would do no good to stop my bleeding when there was barely anything to bleed. My veins were empty. I thrust my hand into his. It was good that he was with me. He could see what I was. Despite the growing pain and blood drying on my chin, I forced myself to smile. He should remember me as a woman, happy to have been his wife. Before the warm sunlight forced my eyes open, I knew the illusion was gone. My form was again what it had been. The sorrow was surprisingly faint and easy to overcome; I was alive and with Reg. A pained moan made me turn my head. Reg was lying next to me, cowered in rusty-stained bandages. "Reg!" I gasped. Speaking amplified the pain from my breathing. My torso was like skewered. He opened his eyes and gave me a lopsided smile under the bandage on his face. "What happened?" I wheezed. "Are you alright?" "I'm fine... enough. The spell around the town hid my injuries, but they weren't truly gone." His grin was pained. "When the enchantment faded, I was back in a pretty bad shape." "Fool! You could have died, riding through the desert like that!" He frowned. "It was reckless, even dumb. Yet I'm glad I did it." I pressed against him and let the gesture tell how I felt. Speaking was exhausting with a recently punctured lung, but at least my heart was whole. AUTHOR'S NOTE with a tinge of bellyaching: Thank you for reading. I am little disappointed by the lack of smuttiness (couldn't even come up with anything enticing involving the shapeshifters, a bummer). Do leave a comment on whether the lack of sexiness is boring or not. And for once, I kept the ending short. I don't think the legal consequences and political situation (not to mention the supernatural theological ramifications!) were interesting enough to cover further. And Asai getting a lecture on magical healing, in which she probably is the most adept out of the three sorcerers, done to her would have been pretty silly ("Honey, got a magical blood transfusion, which ??as you know?? can save someone suffering from dangerous blood loss," wooo riveting stuff). Hopefully it's not confusing. Leave a comment! Especially if you noticed something that could be better, though please describe what is wrong. Other feedback is also nice. All rights are waived on this text, CC0.