Creation Mage 6 by Dante King (red scrolls of magic .TXT) 📗

burst effigy in all directions. The monkey statue opened its mouth and music poured forth. The gathered throng erupted in cheers. Corks were popped, and cloaks were thrown aside by the dozen figures on the stage.

“What the fuck is this now?” I asked over the swelling cacophony of noise.

Aunt Ruth shoved a goblet of something fizzy and smoky into my hand. Great Granddaddy Gorlbadock took me by the elbow and pointed across the lake, which now looked like molten silver in the light of the Chaos Magic fire.

“Have you learned your lesson, boy?” he asked me.

“My lesson?” I asked.

“Can you see the point of all this?” Great Granddaddy Gorlbadock pressed me.

I thought for a moment. I gazed across the water at the water at the monkey statue, lit with occult fire.

“It’s a lesson about Chaos…” I said slowly, sipping my drink.

The old man next to me smiled. Just for a second.

“Chaos…” I said.

“Chaos is the oil that greases the wheels!” Great Granddaddy Gorlbadock growled and raised his own goblet.

I looked around, raising my own goblet. “What’s next in the ceremony?”

“Next,” Great Granddaddy Gorlbadock said, “we drink!”

The music swelled, and dancers filled the forest. The stars peeking through sable fingers of bare tree branches glowed bright above our heads.

“All right,” I said, “then we drink!”

Enwyn, Mallory, Aunt Ruth, and Leah were gathered round, the supernatural black and white flames giving them a pleasant glow.

I raised my goblet higher. “We drink to Chaos!”

Chapter 5

Enwyn and I skipped across the pristine, untouched snow that ran down from the enormous log-constructed main house of the ranch. Our booted feet punched holes into the crisp virgin snow, twin rows of black dots stitched into an acre square of perfect blankness.

Ahead of us, the trees of the fir forest surrounding the ranch reached up into the starry night sky like the sable silhouettes of Yuletide trees drawn by a child. There were a few deciduous trees scattered among the pines and their bare branches clawed up at the heavens like the crooked, frozen fingers of the dying.

I wasn’t sure whether it was the copious amount of mixed alcohol that I had imbibed, or whether the monochromatic landscape really was as stunning as all that, but there was something very poetic about the contrast of the black shadows lying flat on the unblemished snow.

The shadows were so sharp, deep, and well-defined that they looked like tree shapes cut from a spotless white cloth.

Enwyn’s hand was warm in mine as I led her through the crunching, squeaking snow and into the edges of the trees where our large canvas tent had been pitched.

The tent looked more like a yurt than the type of a shitty triangular affair that my uncle had once tried to take me camping in back on Earth. It appeared to be tall enough for me to stand up in. It was as wide across as a school bus, and a black metal chimney protruded from the top of it. Snow piled up the sides and on the roof, but the doorway was quite clear. A welcoming sliver of warm, orange light peeped from between the two tent flaps. The smell of wood smoke permeated the still night air and gave the whole scene an  unreal quaintness.

“This is my kind of camping,” I gasped as we slowed down and walked the last ten yards. My breath plumed out in front of me, feathery and insubstantial. Planting my feet abruptly, I pulled Enwyn to me, and we kissed under the blazing white stars.

Enwyn’s warm hand snaked into the depths of my coat and ran across my stomach and down…

My own hands reached south, lifted the black coat that she was wearing, and kneaded the Fire Mage’s juicy buttocks together. Enwyn let out a slow, longing-filled breath that tasted like wine, even as her tongue continued to dance playfully against mine, writhing like a miniature belly dancer.

“Fuck this,” I groaned between kisses, “let’s get inside out of the cold.”

“You’re cold?” Enwyn murmured as she rubbed at my cock through my pants.

“Hell no, I’m not cold,” I said. “But if we undress out here, I soon could be.”

Enwyn chuckled, bit my bottom lip, and stretched it out just to the point of pain before releasing it.

I licked at my lip. I tasted blood.

“You savage,” I muttered. “I didn’t take you for the type…”

Enwyn grinned back at me, her teeth bright in the light of the moon filtering through the branches of the trees surrounding us.

“It’s the glasses, isn’t it?” she quipped. “You get lured into expecting a goody two shoes, but the reality is—”

“A wild harlot?” I suggested.

“I guess we’ll see just how much wildness you can bring out of me,” Enwyn said, her spectacles turning into opaque rectangles as she looked directly at me.

That was enough for me. We ripped open the tent flap, my arms reaching around from behind Enwyn as she led the way inside, my fingers fumbling at the clasps of her coat.

“Finally, my sugared plums,” said Leah Chaosbane.

She was lying on a king-sized, log-constructed bed piled high with furs of a multitude of different hues and levels of shagginess. Her long, model’s body was draped quite comfortably across the bed.

It was a good thing that the fire was roaring away, because what Leah was attired in did not lend itself much in the way of thermal coverage.

She was dressed in the skimpiest set of red lingerie that I had, not just ever seen, but ever imagined. The bra component looked like they constructed out of the same amount of material as the average handkerchief. The panties were… Well, they were something, all right—although they were barely anything at all, if you wanted to be technical about it. They covered just