The Essence of Magic

Chapter 1“Welcome home, Your Highness.” Dazznic, Warlock Advisor Supreme and Keeper of the House, stepped forward. He bowed low at the waist, his snowy beard trailing nearly to the foyer’s red-and-white marble floor. “I trust you had a pleasant journey from the Spas of Petrik.” “Very pleasant, indeed, Dazz,” replied Vita Omnia, First Daughter of the Queendom of Travéttica. She laughed. “And stand up straight, for Queendom’s sake, my old friend. It’s only me.” The man rose to his meager height of five-one, while his blue eyes snapped with age-old amusement. “I always show respect where it is due, my dear.” In a voice of uncompromising command, he ordered several attendants to remove Vita’s trunks from the carriages, then turned and held out his arm to her. She rested a hand on her escort’s sleeve, the velvet of his black robe familiar and comforting against her palm. Despite her enjoyable, two-week stay at the relaxing spas, she had missed the palace—her mother and sisters, her lifelong teachers such as Dazznic, and her Royal Vessels. Especially one Vessel in particular, she thought, the chill of anticipation rushing through her veins. Dazznic ushered her into the vast hallway and toward the grand staircase. Warm sunlight streamed through the mullioned windows, forming intermittent blocks of golden rectangles on the crimson carpet. From ornate ceiling medallions hung elaborate chandeliers, their dripping crystals catching the light and casting prisms of color against the marble walls. “Tell me, Dazz, the latest palace gossip,” said Vita, her skirts swooshing around her feet. “Has C’Esset Yancia finally perfected the Spell of Disappearance, or can one still detect her mist? And Lancine D’Olica? Is she still suffering a hangover from that Rhunatox brew she purchased from that shifty mortal farmer? Why she would ever think to consume a home-stilled liquor is beyond my ken.” “News of your sisters can wait. Perhaps you should share with me the reason for your early return.” “No reason.” “Is that so? In all of your twenty-four yearly visits to the Petrik Spas, you have never once returned before the full month was out. What’s changed?” “Nothing’s changed.” “Never fib to your teacher.” Vita looked down at the wizened face, straight into those intelligent eyes. She should have known the Warlock Supreme, of all people, would see through her false air of nonchalance. And something in his expression told Vita he already knew the answer. “So you have made your selection,” he said, validating her suspicion. His thin lips bore the hint of a grin. No sense continuing the charade, she decided. “I don’t know for certain…” “In your head, perhaps. But in your heart? Yes, you have chosen. And knowing you, my most apt pupil, I am confident you have made a judicious selection.” Vita smiled and hugged his arm. “The only question, my dear, is which of the dozen Vessels you have selected. ‘Tis a poser, for certain.” “Why, Dazz, I’m shocked. I thought you divined all. Running low on ingredients to put your Caldron of Sight to good use?” “Do not sass. As you well know, I am not privy to what happens within your chambers, so I cannot predict which Vessel has captured your heart. Besides, to look at them, one can discern no magnitude of difference. And no amount of ingredients for my Caldron of Sight can ever truly predict the workings of a Royal Witch’s heart.” “Trust me, Dazz, this Royal Witch couldn’t have predicted the workings of her own heart, either.” That ache of longing she felt had indeed surprised Vita. While reveling in the stimulating waters of the Petrik Spas, her mind kept returning to the palace. None of the substitute Royal Vessels the spa provided had come close to stirring the emotions she felt toward any member of “her Force,” as she liked to call them, nor to the one in particular whom she craved even now—her newest recruit, Bron D’Extrian. Though only a member of her Force for the past nine months, Bron had quickly moved to the top of her “favorite” list. While at the spa, Vita had dreamed of him nightly, thought of him throughout each waking moment. His absence had become so hard to bear, she’d canceled the remainder of her vacation and rushed home. More chills of giddy anticipation coursed through her body with each step she took down the hallway, ever closer to her chambers—and Bron. “Then I shall not ask for the Vessel’s moniker until your heart and mind concur with your choice,” said Dazznic, stopping before the wide-carved staircase shaped like a palette. “Remember the lessons I have taught you. Unlike your Witch Sisters, you have studied well, know every facet of what does and does not constitute the premium Vessel. Your gifts will indeed excel because of this.” He kissed the top of her hand, his whiskers like gilberhawk down against her knuckles. When he looked up at her, his blue eyes again sparkled with jocularity. “Now, if I can only narrow down which of the Vessels you have selected, I might gain an iota of slumber this evening.” Vita couldn’t help but giggle as he tromped off, muttering aloud the names of her Vessels and weighing their qualities, the same as she had done countless times in the recent past. Her heart throbbing with excitement, she gathered her skirts and raced up the staircase, her heels clanking against the marble steps. At the landing, she brushed strands of her waist-length, jasper-colored hair from her shoulders, smoothed her gown, and hastened along the portrait-lined corridors toward the west wing. The instant she turned the corner into a hallway leading to her private chambers, her fingers itched with the need to touch bare flesh, while her mouth watered with hunger to savor the Vessel who had so consumed her mind. MagiGuards, two beefy warriors clad in crimson-and-black livery, and breast-plates made of steelite, opened the wide set of double doors and bowed to her. Into another hallway she stepped, looking down a corridor with twelve doors, six on each side, each door leading to one of her various well-appointed rooms. Beside each door stood one of her Vessels. Her Force, Vita thought with tremendous pride. Yes, she decided, she had indeed selected well, probably better than any of her sisters, at least in her eyes. Of course, each Royal Daughter of the Queendom of Travéttica had chosen Vessels that appealed to her individual tastes. Vita had scrutinized and appointed her dozen with the utmost care, not only finding them extremely attractive, but potent in providing power. As Dazznic had said, to look at them, one might not see much difference. All of her handsome Vessels possessed dark, shimmering hair, with a tall, kingly frame, wide shoulders and strong arms, and a lean yet muscular physique. Their upper right arms bore a single tattoo of a Travét—a center circle with a large X running through it and four smaller circles within the main sphere. The large circle’s crimson color marked these Vessels as Vita’s, matching the crystal pendant she wore on a necklace. Her sisters’ Vessels possessed the same tattoo, but with a different color to coincide with each Royal Witch’s crystal. They stood at rapt attention, donned in nothing except thin, crimson-colored loincloths, so as to give Vita easy access to the magic-giving tool of their anatomy. Through her years of study, she had become a connoisseur of the male gender, selecting Vessels with hair-matted chests and bellies, not only knowing the myths regarding hair increasing enchantment potency, but also finding it extremely arousing. And each Vessel possessed round, fully distended testicles—again, for greater magical virility—and a lengthy magiwand, the device by which Vessels released seed to produce offspring after marriage, and the fuel Royal Witches required daily to maintain the power of Witchcraft. Viewing all that familiar male flesh practically begging to be savored, Vita again felt a surge of pride, and moisture seeped into her womanhood. Certainly, in her lustful mood, the notion of a day-long orgy with her dozen Vessels sprang to mind. It would be expected of her also, considering it had been two weeks since last she supped from her Force. The spa’s substitutes had adequately sustained her magical powers to the daily recommended dosage, but everyone knew only a Royal Witch’s chosen Force could supply more restorative, longer-lasting fare. Her gaze, however, zeroed in on the devilishly handsome Vessel standing beside the fourth door on the right-hand side of the hallway. What was it about Bron D’Extrian that made her knees almost weak with desire? Made her entire body tremble with yearning? Made her want to sup from him and him alone for the remainder of her existence? Vita didn’t know. But in her mind, his attractive features, though similar to all of her Vessels, seemed somehow a degree more attractive, his body a tad more desirable, his magiwand an iota more succulent and able to provide a sweeter, more revitalizing nectar than the others. Could it be that what she felt toward him was what the Royal Sages of the planet B’Atrani called “love”? She could only surmise it was, and seeing him now, Vita felt almost drunk with carnality. Clutching her crystal pendant, now glowing a moderate crimson, a sign of healthy and stable power, she stepped before him. Her gaze clawed over his hirsute, sinewy torso, following the trail of curly dark hair that ran from his breastbone, over his naval, and straight into his loincloth. “Good day to you, Bron.” “Welcome home, Your Majesty,” he responded in a rich, sonorous tone that sent heat to her groin. At first, his face displayed no hint of emotion, like any well-trained Vessel, but Vita soon detected a ghost of a smile hovering at the corners of his moist, full lips. “We have missed you.” Though he had voiced the word “we,” his lustrous green eyes warmed her to the depths of her soul, telling Vita he had truly meant “I” instead. “I have missed you all, as well,” she declared, turning in a slow circle to address the virile group. “Soon, I will be calling for each of you in turn.” Her movement eventually brought her back to face Bron. It took all of her might to trim the desperation from her next word. “Lift.” Without question, Bron pulled up his loincloth, exposing what she had so desperately wanted to see. From a dense forest of pubic hair dangled his vein-laced magiwand. Even in its flaccid state, it hung thick and long, its pink crown peeking from beneath a slightly darker foreskin with the promise of sustenance and gratification. Saliva poured into Vita’s mouth as prurient thoughts consumed her. She sank to her knees and studied Bron’s magnificent organ before burying her nose in his bush, inhaling the musky, masculine scent she had so fervently missed. Pulling back, she cupped and squeezed his furry, low-hanging balls in one hand, then flicked the tip of her tongue over the slit in his magiwand from where his essence poured. Instantly, Bron’s flesh sprang to life, growing plumper, longer, and climbing toward the chandeliered ceiling. Within seconds, it stood as rigid and as regal as the Holy Obelisk of Enchantment—fashioned in the shape of a phallus—governing the Isle of Gizetta, only more seductive, beyond mesmerizing, and alive with energy. Vita turned her head from side to side, noting how the loincloths on each of her Vessels had begun to lift by themselves. Ah, yes, she thought again in self-satisfaction, she had indeed chosen well, and looked forward to draining their loads of magic power in the hours ahead. But first things first, she decided, stroking Bron’s hairy thighs and giving the fat head of his mammoth erection a lingering kiss. She climbed to her feet and glided toward her bedchamber at the end of the hallway. Without looking, she knew her chosen Vessel followed, his magiwand bobbing before him, ready for her special treatment.