Chapter 4

After the incident in the forbidden corridor, and the resultant spanking, Mashilahantradar hardly let Strides-Tall out of her sight. The Dyal kept the elf on the leash almost constantly, leading the girl around wherever she went and chaining her at the foot of the bed. Strides-Tall hated that most of all, for it kept her within the winged sorceress's reach at a time when the Dyal's passions, unshackled as she slept, ran at their hottest, and from time to time Mashilahantradar would crawl to the end of the bed and reach down to toy with the elf's hair, caress the shiny vinyl of her boots or try to touch her in the most intimate of places. The girl had to gauge her resistance carefully, wanting to shy away whilst not angering her "Mistress".

Strides-Tall now resided in the part of the palace in which the sorceress lived and practiced her magic - much of the rest of the castle was rarely used, but still well-guarded by the scorpion-monsters - and they was not alone. Mashilahantradar shared her chambers, and the interconnecting corridors, with a variety of strange and often unnatural creature, resulting from her mystical experiments.

Cats with scales scurried around the walls and ceilings, keeping the palace free of vermin, and many-eyed octopus-like creatures floated along the corridors in eerie silence, whilst a menagerie of little "people" - humanoids with unusual skin or exaggerated features - hurried around doing the menial work.

Strides-Tall had no love for the little folk. They obeyed Mashilahantradar's orders without question, and apparently revered her, but anything other than the Dyal was treated as at best their equal - and the elf did not achieve even that lofty position. Whenever Mashilahantradar sequestered herself in her study and demanded privacy, Strides-Tall was placed in the "care" of these creatures, and they would tease her constantly, pulling sharply on her collar-chain, tugging on her hair, pinching her behind, interfering with the straps around the tops of her boots - and if she ever retaliated, the little servants would tell their mistress, and the elf would find herself on the receiving end of another spanking.

Apart from these two indignities, Strides-Tall was well kept and well cared for. The only work she was ever required to do was clean the sorceress's boots, usually when the Dyal went for her customary daily bath, getting out of bed and plunging almost straight into what was effectively a small swimming pool. That task was something the elf had to struggle not to enjoy, for they were magnificent boots, made of some material that was somewhere between vinyl and lacquered leather...

Life was essentially predictable, and so it was something of an event when a visitor came to see the sorceress. Strides-Tall was at Mashilahantradar's side when a young Dyal girl, not much more than a child, was escorted into the sorceress's presence by two of the largest examples of the floating octopus-creatures. The girl, with wings too small to permit her to fly, wore a short dress of scarlet leather, held shut at the hips and under the arms by gold rings and emblazoned with a flaming ring of yellow outlined in black, and presented Mashilahantradar with a scroll, sealed with black satin ribbon and black wax.

The pale Dyal read the contents of the scroll - meaningless jagged dark scratches to Strides-Tall's eyes, except for the seal at the end that matched the symbol on the girl's dress - with great interest before returning it to the girl. "The Skywolves wish to address the Cabal, do they...?", she said thoughtfully to herself.

The messenger, unaware of the message's content, briefly looked surprised, but most of her attention was elsewhere. "You have a lovely pet, milady", she said meekly, when Mashilahantradar noticed her distraction. "May I stroke her...?"

The sorceress smiled. "Of course, my dear", she purred. "She won't bite - if she knows what's good for her..."

Strides-Tall tensed as the young Dyal approached, then reached out to stroke the elf's pale golden hair. The girl was the only Dyal she had encountered apart from the "Mistress", and as far as she was aware, the whole species, even a child like this one, thought of "stroking" as more than just friendly petting.

The Dyal girl did nothing unproper, however. She simply ran her hand over Strides-Tall's hair, purred "pretty...", and returned to her place between the two floating monsters.

"'Pretty'...that's a good name", remarked Mashilahantradar, smiling at the girl. "I think I'll call her that from now on."

I already have a name, and I intend to keep it, the elf said to herself. She watched as the messenger walked away, striding confidently atop the slender high heels of her thigh-high scarlet boots, and wondered how much of their wickedness was inherited as part of their nature, and how much was a result of their upbringing. The girl had been just like any other child - bright-eyed and full of innocence - and so unlike Mashilahantradar that the elf wondered if the youngster was of the same species.

"We have a special occasion to prepare for", announced the pale Dyal, gently pulling on Strides-Tall's chain. "Come...Pretty - you will prepare me, and then we'll see what we can do about you. The other members of the Cabal will bring their pets, and you will not bring shame upon me - if you value your life."

Mashilahantradar had never spoken so threateningly, and Strides-Tall did not doubt that her "Mistress" would be true to her word.

The Meeting-Circle of the High Cabal was some kind of ancient ring of standing stones, previously open to the air but now enclosed under a great dome, the ribbed underside of which gave the impression that it was in fact part of the insides of some colossal, petrified monster. Ornate thrones, shallow bowls carved from bone, were arranged around the outside of the circle, standing on stepped pedestals, and many of these were already occupied by winged figures when Mashilahantradar and her pet appeared at the top of the long staircase leading down into the ancient amphitheatre.

"The Gathering recognises Mashilahantradar, Mistress of the Second Circle of the High Cabal", announced a male Dyal at the centre of the stone-circle, his voice magically amplified so that it reached every corner of the dome.

The descent was an unnerving experience for Strides-Tall, for every step she took drew more eyes to her. Male and female Dyals, all with long hair, dressed in the briefest of leathers - sometimes even less than that - and long, high-heeled boots...they all eyed the elf hungrily, and exchanged looks that suggested that the thoughts brewing behind the eyes involved ideas she would be better off not knowing about...

The sorceress fluttered up onto her perch, close to the circle, almost forgetting that Strides-Tall had to make her way up the stairs by less dramatic means. She glared up at her "Mistress", but the Dyal no longer had any interest in her, at least for the present.

"Mashilahantradar acknowledges this esteemed assembly, and wishes it success in the name of the mystic arts", the pale Dyal replied, and her voice too boomed out across the meeting place.

Over the next hour or so, other Dyal sorceresses - and sorcerers - entered the Meeting-Circle, and were welcomed. Looking back up the terraces of stone, Strides-Tall saw some of these later arrivals, and some were indeed accompanied by creatures - or people - that beings as amoral as the Dyals would call "pets". Huge, sleek cats with jewel-like eyes, exotic females of a variety of human- and elf-like races - even a slender serpent with a crown-like arrangement of horns that crawled along on twelve tiny legs...

Only one Dyal walked past Mashilahantradar's perch and took a seat closer to the stones. Strides-Tall only saw her wings and back, the latter cloaked with lustrous black hair adorned with jewels, and the two attendants who followed - one male Dyal, one female, with narrow-bladed swords and coiled whips at their belts.

"The Gathering recognises She Who Is First, and Mistress of the First Circle", declared the Dyal in the circle. "Hail the illustrious Shari'Aa!"

The Dyals rose from their seats, pulled their wings in tight against their backs, and lowered their heads. A purring chorus rose from their lips as Shari'Aa approached the circle, and Strides-Tall shuddered at the eerie sound.

Her guards left behind outside the circle, the Mistress of The First Circle dismissed the announcer, and turned to address the assembled Cabal. "Bring forth Astl'Aar, Battlemaster of the Skywolves", she ordered, in a deep and naturally forceful voice that could quite easily have been heard throughout the dome without amplification. "Let him be heard..."

As the echoes of Shari'Aa's voice faded, the sound of leathery flesh on leather flesh could be heard as the seated Dyals turned, and looked to the top of the long staircase. A solitary Dyal could be seen there, the warm amber light they seemed to favour glinting on the suit of gold-trimmed black armour he wore. The light appeared to be particularly drawn to two gem-stones on his breastplate; the eyes of a snarling wolf's head, sporting eagle's wings, painted there in exquisite detail.

Another one that doesn't quite fit the mould, thought Strides-Tall as the armoured Dyal walked past. The looks from the Cabal told the elf that this particular style was far from popular.

The newcomer descended to the circle of stones without hesitation, and Shari'Aa's guards allowed him to step into the circle unhindered. The Mistress of The First Circle briefly took to the air, flying out of sword's reach and landing on top of one of the pillars of crudely-shaped but richly-carved stone. She wants him to know that although he shares the circle with her, she's still in charge, observed Strides-Tall. He's going to have to really work to impress her...

"Speak, Battlemaster of the Skywolves", said Shari'Aa. "Explain why you, a renegade, have been so brazen as to call for the Cabal to assemble..."

Astl'Aar was quite undaunted, and spoke clearly and firmly when he began. "For years beyond memory, and across universes beyond counting, it has been the same for our kind. Pleasure, and the pursuits of the flesh, have been the focus of our existence, a focus adhered to without question. The Skywolves believe the time for change has come."

A number of the Cabal started to rise from their seats, clearly in no mood to hear such talk, but Shari'Aa shot looks of displeasure at every offender - and every offender sat down again. Strides-Tall felt a brief flicker of what she knew as magic, but it was enough to make her tremble. The mind-power employed to instil discipline was very powerful, and expertly focussed, and only rarely had the elf encountered such well-honed abilities. The owners of those abilities had been beings deserving of cautious handling, if not outright fear.

"I will not insult this honoured gathering by disputing the power of magic", the armoured Dyal continued, "but to be truly strong one must be strong in many ways. The Skywolves, the first warrior-circle the Dyal race has ever known, will show the way. I come, not to change you or ask you to set aside that which is your power, but to ask for your support. Through a combination of different powers, physical and psychic, we can face those who mock us, and teach them the error of their ways."

"Let them mock", snorted a red-haired male Dyal, seated on the same level as Mashilahantradar. "We know who is the stronger. Let them think otherwise, and they will not get in our way!"

Strides-Tall glanced towards Shari'Aa. The Mistress of the First Circle made no attempt to silence this dissenter.

"A strength that is not exercised is no strength at all", the warrior Dyal replied, unbowed. "Magic kept locked away in silver towers and ivory castles is as good as a sword that is never drawn. All around us, others become truly stronger..."

"A sword that is not drawn is one that will not accidentally provoke a war", offered another Cabal member.

"What? Would you have us become conquerors?", asked a third.

"If necessary", responded Astl'Aar, and the slight ripple of disquiet grew...

...and so it continued, hour after hour, with the Battlemaster commendably defiant throughout. His words still rang in Strides-Tall's head as she leaned on the rail of the covered balcony back at the palace, granted free time by a "Mistress" too bored to care if her pet made another escape bid.

She was obviously hoping for more of a party, the elf thought. A banquet had been prepared for consumption once business had been concluded, but none of the Cabal members had been in a feasting mood, for which Strides-Tall had been most glad. Two of the Dyal spell-casters had expressed an interest in borrowing the elf, but Mashilahantradar had left the gathering before any deals could be struck.

The leader of the Skywolves had been the only "winner", but it had not been the victory he had wanted. He had come seeking support, only to leave as he had arrived - alive. As the "discussion" had progressed, the elf had learned that the warrior was a renegade, an outcast, and to some of the Cabal a traitor to his race, and only the sanctity of the Meeting-Circle had prevented the sorcerers from tearing him apart there and then.

He was right, all the same, thought the elf-woman. Magic, by itself, simply isn't enough. My people are a classic example of just that...

Strides-Tall did not see or feel them coming, but suddenly she was surrounded by armoured Dyals. Before she knew what was happening the world around her blurred out of focus, and descended into numb, thoughtless darkness.

Mashilahantradar stepped out onto the balcony just moments later, and the only trace of the elf was the discarded collar, the lock burned out.

The pale witch smiled to herself as she retrieved the collar. "Have fun, my little Pretty", she purred, and strolled back to her study, apparently unconcerned about the fate of her pet.

 

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