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Archive-name: Fantasy/aimee-b.txt

Archive-author: Elf Sternberg

Archive-title: Aimee - b - Chapter 1





AIMEE'                                                            Chapter I

~~~~~                                                             ~~~~~~~~~



     The sound of the door opening told Darynn that his student for the 

evening had arrived.  He put down the quill he worked with, moving slowly, 

and then covered the inkwell with a small stone cap.  He turned slowly, 

anticipating the look of awe in the student's face (they always looked the 

same).  But when he turned, he found himself  surprised, because he had 

never before had a female student.  "Well," he said.



     He estimated her age between fourteen and fifteen years.  That age 

where children become just perfect for teaching the ways of the advanced 

magicks he, of all the mages, understood best.  Her hair hung about her 

face and down her back in a black frame of soft, tight curls.  He saw 

beautiful, powerful slate blue eyes under that frame, and a tiny, delicate 

nose hovered above an equally small and expressive mouth.  "Come here, 

child.  Sit, over there, on that stool with the blue pillow, yes."  She 

moved as he directed, and although she needed her heels on the bottom rung 

of the stool, she did manage to get onto it without help.  "Now then," he 

said.  "Tell me your name."



     "Aimee', sir."  She held out an envelope.



     "And your master?"



     "Teltirray, Darynn-sir."



     "He purchased you?"  He opened the letter, which indeed carried Mage 

Teltirray's seal on it, as he listened.



     The girl shook her head nervously.  "No, sir.  Well, yes sir.  I mean 

I do not know.  He removed me from an orphanage seven months ago, but the 

arrangement did not have the contract exchange of a slave."



     "But coin passed hand nonetheless," Darynn said, nodding.  Teltirray's 

last two students had been girls like Aimee'.  They were always girls.  

Darynn disliked Teltirray, partially for his tastes and partially for his 

utter lack of social grace and manners.  Teltirray's last two "students" 

had aparrently found the stress of living with him unbearable and committed 

suicide, and he had suspected from the start that Teltirray merely drove 

them to madness as a simple method of disposal.  With Aimee's appearance 

and the instructions in the letter she held out to him, he felt his 

suspicions were confirmed.



     Darynn examined Aimee' carefully while deep in thought about a 

personal dilemma that had not existed before she had walked through the 

door.  He switched his vision; decades had passed since he had needed to 

say anything in order to effect such change.  Under his eyes, she appeared 

as a conglormeration of green and blue masses, swirling lazily.  "By 

Sphahis!" he whispered to himself, then caught his words.  This girl 

radiated power, power he was very familiar with, and Teltirray's current 

plan became clear to him.  Teltirray sought his skill not so that he might 

train an apprentice, but an odalisque.



     Darynn became convinced, and smiled to himself.  Aimee' would get the 

training Teltirray sought, but he would not get just an odalisque; he would 

get an houri, as well.



     "So, you have come to me to learn my magicks, Aimee'?" he asked.



     "Y... yes, sir.  He told me you knew best the teachings in the world 

about the magicks of the Satyrs and the Megass."  She fidgeted nervously in 

her seat, still not daring to make eye contact with him.



     He rose from his chair.  The sound of his seat rocking startled her 

slightly, and she looked away.  He stood before her and reached out with 

one hand to touch her under the chin, to reach into her.  He wished her a 

calmness and she received it, turning her head back towards him.  "Look at 

me, Aimee'.  Tell me what you see."



     Her eyes looked into his and her gaze pierced him.  Oh, Teltirray, he 

thought as he let her in, you do like to play with fire, don't you?  "I see 

a man.  Young, but fully grown.  Brown, your eyes, the same color as your 

beard and hair.  You have a handsome nose, and a wide mouth, but the lips 

look thick, but not unhandsomely so.  Your body, what I can see of it, 

shows care, well-shaped and strong.  And you possess power."



     "The last.  Your opinion, or that of rumors given to you?"



     "Mine," she said firmly. 



     He smiled and walked back to his comfortable chair, slowly lowering a 

spherical shutter over the magically glowing orb that sat on his desk.    

He wanted the darkness of the room to make it seem smaller and more 

intimate.  He wanted her trust above everything else. "I want to tell you a 

story, Aimee', that tale I tell all my students, of my first encounter with 

the Satyrs and of my learning of the ways of love, of power, and of men.  

That you should hear it intrigues me, because I have never told it to a 

female before.  Your master tests me, and I do not like being tested.  But 

do not relay that message to him.  You may tell him everything that 

occurs... but that.  Do you understand?"



     "Yes... yes sir."



     "Good.  Now listen closely."





     I began my life as a simple blacksmith's son and the very idea that  I 

might end up a mage never crossed my mind.  I knew my place in the world 

and I knew that the worlds of mages lay far beyond my simple reach.  Never 

did the twain meet.



     I had a talent for the smithy, make no mistake.  I knew how to make 

steel behave in manners never seen before or since, and I can still do the 

same today.  I still smith as a hobby.  And as a way of making the tools of 

my true trade, of course.



     Do you know where Daber Wood lies on the map, Aimee?  No?  Some day  I 

shall pull out my maps and show it to you, once you have learned to read 

the simpler ones.  Yes, I intend on teaching you that as well.  Suffice to 

say it should take many weeks and many forged rivers to reach it walking.  



     My father had many customers and when I came into my own often he sent 

me to see to their needs.  As I approached my seventeenth birthday it 

became apparent to both him and me that my talents would someday surpass 

his.  Customers more often requested my presence at their needs then they 

did his.  I must give him credit for his fortitude and his benevolence for 

never once did he express greif or anger at my inborn skills, only joy and 

happiness at what we both saw as my future success.  He knew that someday I 

would have the skills to save him in elder years.  And now, although in 

ways neither of us intended, I do.  But we could never know what would 

happen to me that summer.



     Father dispatched me one morning to the house of a customer who lived 

on the other side of Daber Wood.  He called himself Thomas Cailleac, and to 

the knowledge of our town he had come into his estate and his wealth from a 

combination of family and the lucky spoils of war.  He had often called me 

in the past year, admitting to me once that he enjoyed my natural talents 

as a worker of iron, lead, and silver.  



     Even starting out first thing that morn the ride to his home would 

take me well into the day.  It would also carry me through the thickest 

heart of those Woods.  The stories in town often called those woods 

haunted, or worse, cursed!  Men vanished in those woods, and sometimes, 

late at night, the sounds of pipe and drum carried on the wind.  My father 

often warned me about the Daber, telling me not to ride through them after 

dark.  When visiting Cailleac I often rode through them in the early 

evening but often managed to break through them before complete nightfall.



     I reached Cailleac before high noon.  As much as I could tell, Thomas 

lived alone although his house could easily have hidden a dozen sleeping 

chambers and staff.  He extended his kindness as always, offering me bread 

and beer before indicating the work he wanted done.  Iron frames and lead 

workings held the glass windows in his home in place but often those frames 

and working needed mending.  He supplied the glass panes and the lead but 

he needed my skill to shape and work them properly.  At least, he always 

said so.  But Thomas had told me once of his life as a warrior and I didn't 

think him the kind of man to disdain simple physical labor.  I offered to 

teach him the simple things that would make it possible for him to do most 

of the mending himself.



     He laughed heartily.  "I like your company, Darynn.  Sometimes I think 

of breaking the windows myself just to have more excuses to invite  you out 

here.  But, your words have sense.  Show me."



     I taught him the basics of lead and the dangers therein.  Then he 

showed me an iron fence that had rotted through and the bolts that had come 

loose in the last windstorm.  Fixing that ruined masonry took quite a 

while.



     I felt his eyes upon me as I work.  I make no exaggeration in that.  

He wore tight pants of tanned cowhide, tall boots, the kind a soldier 

should own, and a simple tunic with a slit 'v' at his neck that could be 

drawn closed with a strap of leather.  The heat of day sweated the life out 

of me as I worked and he brought me water, but as he offered it to me I 

could feel his eyes touch my skin where my shirt did not cover me.  And his 

breath, like the scent of warm horses, carried to my nostrils something 

that I could not fathom.



     For at that age I had known the pleasant company of women but not 

their intimacies.  And the intimacies of men... pfagh!  All I knew of that 

came from legends of evil, sickness, and death.  What did my town cleric 

know?  Nothing!



     Forgive me, Aimee.  I forget that my cleric now thinks my kind of 

knowledge 'corrupt' and evil, and I think he knows absolutely nothing.  I 

must remain focused in my tale.



     Have you ever watched a man walk, Aimee?  They all walk in almost the 

same manner.  All except Thomas.  His boots should have leant him a 

strident, powerful gait.  Instead, his power seemed elsewhere, in his eyes 

and his broad, massive chest.  His stride came in short, careful gestures, 

as if he thought about every step before making it.  For a man so long a 

soldier he looked uncomfortable wearing those boots.



     "You could stay the night," he offered me as I prepared my horse to 

leave.



     "Father will want me home."



     "Night falls already, Darynn.  I fear for your safety if you walk 

through those woods at this hour.  It takes you four hours to reach your 

home from here."



     "I only spend the first two in the forest, sir.  I will have no 

trouble."



     His eyes darted back and forth, and the concern in his face warmed me.  

But at the same time it made me nervous; did he know something I didn't?  

His nervousness said he did.  Finally, though, he nodded his head.  "Take 

care of yourself, Darynn.  I will want to see you again."  He reached out a 

hand and dropped payment in my hand.  Seven silver, and 

more than I had asked.



     "And you, Thomas.  God bless you."  I mounted my horse and rode 

towards the woods even as the darkbess of night fell further.



     As I rode, I realized the error of my choice.  For the clouds had 

covered the sky and neither moon shone through to light my way.  At first I 

felt confident, but fear began to push that confidence down, so I lit a 

lantern.



     I saw that I had strayed far from the road.  I could not see it from 

atop my mount.  I guessed that I had ridden in a straight line since 

leaving the path and that if I turned around and road straight back, I had 

to reach the road again.  As my horse walked, I heard thunder in the 

distance.  At first it came as a slow rumble, then it grew louder and 

sharper and closer.  Then a lightning bolt struck nearby; my hair stood on 

end, my skin burned.  Naturally, my horse panicked and threw me off.  I 

landed on the ground, cursing, and then as my horse flailed my pack of 

tools feel from his back and landed very near my head.  A blacksmith's 

tools weigh many pounds, and I realized that had they fallen on my head I 

would surely have died.  



     That thought stayed in my head for a long time.  The fall had stunned 

me and I sat up to collect my wits.  And then a young, boyish voice rang 

out through the woods.  "A human, fallen from his horse!"



     Another voice sang, "What shall we do with him?"



     And the first answered, "Why, take him, of course!"  Suddenly a small 

crowd of young boys appeared out of the woods.  The oldest looked no more 

than sixteen, and the youngest thirteen.  I looked around, bewildered, as 

they threw a net over my shoulders.



     I sputtered and cursed as they drew the net tight.  "Unhand me!" I 

demanded.



     "Ah, ah!" the eldest chided me.  "You dared to walk through our woods 

at night, and now we have you for our amusement."



     "What... what shall you do to me?"



     "You'll see.  You'll like it."  He smiled, and fear gripped my heart.  

The fall had stunned me so hard that only now did I realized that none of 

the boys wore any clothing.  Hair covered their legs from the waists to 

their ankles, and those very legs ended not in feet, but in hooves.  Satyrs 

had taken me.  I knew the end of my life approached soon.



     "I thought... I thought Satyrs only took women."



     "We take what we want," the boy replied.  "And tonight, our Master  

wants you."



     "Your Master?" 



     "You will see."  They hoisted my net between two poles and carried me 

through the woods like a stag trapped in a hunt.  Which, in a way, they may 

have regarded me.  We approached an open circle ringed with torches, and as 

we approached the winds seemed to die away.  I knew that they controlled 

the magics of the woods, and here I saw the evidence.  



     The circled grew out of the side of a hill, and set into the hill I 

saw a throne, covered in shadows.  A shape sat in that throne but I could 

not see who-- or what-- owned that shape.  "Master," the eldest spoke, "We 

have brought your prize."



     "Good."  I expected their master's voice to frighten me, but instead 

it did the opposite.  I felt warmed by it, reassured by it.  And it had a 

familiar sound to it as well, as if I knew this Master.  "Remove him from 

the net."



     They lowered the poles and removed the net from about me.  The Master 

spoke again.  "Strip him."



     The boyish, youthful satyrs tore my clothes from my body.  I felt no 

urge to fight them.  Instead, I felt curiosity, wonder, reassurance, and an 

uncontrollable emergence of lust.  "Bring him closer."



     They did not have to lead.  I walked voluntarily and he noticed this.  

"You want," their Master said.  "I can see it in your eyes and the way you 

hold your body.  Good.  You will need that.  Now kneel before me."



     That I would not do.  I resisted him.  I wanted to have my curiosity 

satisfied but  not at the cost of my diginity.  "Kneel," he repeated, his 

voice firm and demanding.  The boys grabbed at my arms and my shoulders and 

began pushing me down.  And although I felt my need to resist him utterly 

strong and unquestionable within me, I also felt myself sinking to my 

knees.  But still I looked up, holding my chin high and defying him.



     I watched him stand and approach me.  As his face came into the light 

I recognized it and I knew his name.  "Thom."  But the same hair that 

covered the boys covered him, and instead of feet I saw hooves.  "You... "



     "They call me the Lord of Satyrs of Daber Wood."  He smiled, his hand 

reaching out to stroke my hair.  His fingers touched me and I felt the 

first touches of his power within me.  "And they name me Thomorr.  You may 

call me that, my beloved Darynn."



     I cannot tell you what confusion lived in my heart, Aimee'.  For I 

knew they should kill me that night; few whom the Satyrs took lived to talk 

and those that did kept their secrets close.  But at the same time I knew 

that I trusted Thom.  Had always treated me well.  And the lust, Oh, 

Aimee', the lust I felt I cannot describe.  It took me over, it fed me and 

it burned me.



     His legs looked like the trunks of trees under their sheaths of thick, 

curly hair.  As I looked up I saw his sex, and I will tell you shamelessly 

that horses are not so blessed with such enormity, nor angels with such 

beauty.  To measure it, I saw three hands of length to it and a thickness 

that rivaled my wrists.  Behind it his sac hung, full and large.  Above 

that a thick tangle of reddish brown hair protected his beauty from the 

cold, and above that I saw his lean, broad chest and belly.  He smiled, his 

face calm and handsome; no woman could refuse him, as man or as beast.



     His hands stroked his sex and it grew harder under his touch, although 

I will not say it grew any longer.  "You will take this tonight," he said, 

looking down at me.  "You know how a woodsman splits wood with a wedge, 

Darynn?  Look at this engine, Darynn.  My boys, they call this the 

Boysplitter."  He caressed his manhood with a closed fist, running his 

hands along the length of that unbelievable shaft, reaching the end and 

seemingly twisting as he stroked.  "Kiss it, Darynn.  Bless this body.   

Worship properly and you may learn the secret of living through the night."



     "Thom..." I gasped, my toungue thick.  All I knew instructed me that 

what he asked was evil, but I knew that I wanted it.  I wanted him.  I 

wanted him to take me as he wanted to take me. 



     "Kiss me, Darynn.  Kiss my sex.  Open your mouth and receive the first 

of me."



     I knelt, my face upraised, and opened my mouth.  He stepped forward, 

one small step, and the head of his manhood pressed against my lips.  For 

the first time I knew the taste of a man and I knew I would again never 

find satisfaction in the arms of women only.  Hear these words, Aimee', 

that our lessons forbid the taste of our own sex with good reason, for once 

we have learned it we will never find satisfaction in half of mankind 

alone.



     His very largeness prevented me from taking all of him.  I could not 

fit more than the head of his sex into my mouth, but he seemed to take 

pleasure from that alone.  I had my eyes closed and I did learn worship at 

his maleness, tasting him and sucking him.  I felt the slick mass of his 

sex against my tongue and the power of his maleness there.  I smelled him, 

his warm, loamy scent, rich and heady, washing over me with every breath.  



     "Good little man," Thomorr said as his hands caressed my face.  He 

took his sex away from my mouth, but I wanted him back, I wanted more.  I 

cried out with need.



     He smiled and directed his boys, "Hold him down," and they did as they 

were told.  They pulled me forward and laid me across a stump that I didn't 

remember seeing when we entered the clearing.  The very roots came to life 

as they pressed my palms to the darkened soil and very soon those roots 

fixed me into place, a part of the still-living but soon- dying stump they 

had brought me to.



     Thomorr covered my body with his, the enormity of his sex pressing 

against my back.  My fear rose and threatened to become blind, unreasoning 

terror.  I had not anticipated his desire to enter me, to take me.  I had 

thought about it only in esoteric, indistinct terms.  I had not come to 

grips with his wish to press his sex to my anus, to push it into me, to 

fill me and to ruin me.  "Thom..."



     "Hush," he whispered into my ear.  "You can take this, Darynn, I 

believe you can.  If you do, if you learn to take my sex and to open your 

body and your heart to me at the same time... if you let me become a part 

of you and share your part with me, then you will survive.  You have 

strength within you that no one understands.  You have magic, Darynn.  

Believe in it."



     I did not know what to say.  I trusted Thomorr but only as I knew him, 

as the human Thom Cailleac.  I felt fingers playing with my buttocks and 

between them, caressing my anus with a warm cream.  "Butter," Thom told me.  

"It will make loving you easier."



     My breathing came faster and my head grew light.  I knew fear, Aimee'.  

And then his legs were between mine, pushing mine apart.  He gave me no 

preparation, no time to relax.  I felt the head of his sex slide between my 

greased buttocks, finding my anus and pushing in gently.  My legs trembled 

and I began crying.  Tears squeezed from behind my shut eyelids.  I knew I 

would die.



     And he pressed, his strength becoming greater.  And as his greased rod 

penetrated me, ripped into me, I screamed.  I knew he had split me.  I knew 

my life even then drained into him.  And I felt the head of his sex 

penetrate deeper.  He plunged further into my guts, Aimee', and I felt 

every inch as he did.



     And I heard his voice at my ear again.  "You will not die, Darynn, my 

sweetest boy, if you open your heart to me.  Come, beloved, feel the loving 

strength of my sex within you, joining us.  Feel the pleasure of our 

joining.  Feel the heat of my body."



     And I did.  I felt his chest against my back and his legs against my 

buttocks.  I felt the throbbing of his manhood deep within my body.  And I 

cried.  I wept for all the things I had lost in his ravishment.  But then I 

felt something else come from deep within me.  Maybe it came from the tip 

of his sex; they seemed in the same place.  And that thing reached my 

throat and I felt joy within me.  I began to laugh.  I felt mirth and 

freedom, and I heard Thom laugh along with me.  And then he pulled his sex 

from deep within me.  I whimpered.



     "You want it back?" Thomorr asked me.



     "Yes!" I said.  "I want it within me."



     "Then have it you shall!" he said as he pushed back into me.  Then out 

again.  Then in.  His sex rubbed at the opening of my anus and the head 

rippled within my guts.



     And then the pleasure took me.  I cannot describe the feelings as he 

raped my restrained body, Aimee'.  My body trembled at the obscene invasion 

of man into man, my legs shook with shock and my eyes filled with tears, 

but I laughed and I blessed and I loved Thomorr as he took me with the 

force only men can muster.  My own sex was hard and rubbed painfully 

against the wooden table he took me on.  He knew he didn't have to take 

care with me and I didn't wish him to.



     His body pressed against mine like a force of nature destroying a 

mountain.  I fought my restraints not to get away but to get at him, to 

drag him deeper into me.  And as he pressed his sex deeper into me and his 

chest to my back, I felt us being to merge, to breathe together.  I cannot 

describe it any other way.  We began to fall into each other, and I felt 

the meeting place of our bodies in my heart... in our hearts.  It 

was more than a joining, more than a mating.



     He grabbed my hips and began thrusting madly.  I wanted more and I 

tried to tell him so but my voice would only make the sounds of animals.  

His sex ravished me and my hole burned at his pounding.  My chest rubbed 

against the wood of the stump.  My legs burned and my wrists ached from my 

wish for release.  I felt possessed by his enormous manhood and his 

unquestionable force.  He grunted with every pushing, jabbing thrust that 

sent a ripple of pain and pleasure along my back, between and through our 

bodies.  Small gasps escaped his lips, a chant of "aye, aye, aye," with 

every thrust and when he screamed his pleasure I did too.  For I felt it.  

In my heart I felt the coil of his climax explode and in my body I felt the 

shooting sperm of his jutting sex bathing my insides with their magical 

warmth.



     And then I lifted my hands.  Free!  They had released me!  I turned, 

but I did not see him.  No one stood in the clearing but me, and I felt I 

possessed so much strength, so much fire.  The fuel of his sex burned 

inside my guts and I needed to get it out.  I took to my feet and I began 

running, chasing something, but what I don't know.  I ran faster, harder, 

and then the voices began to surround me, boy's voices.  They appeared on 

my left and on my right, running with me.  My feet sprouted hooves, and the 

hair on my legs grew thick and entangled.  And they led me now and I 

followed them.  We passed through the woods as so much wind and reached 

another clearing, this one holding a large pool of still water.  They all 

leapt into the water and I leapt with them.



     We laughed and we splashed and we joked in a language that I had not 

known until that day.  And we touched and I caressed them and they me.  And 

on the banks of that pool our play dissolved into a long night of play, of 

men and of boys and of hands and tongues and shafts and holes.  And 

although I never wanted the sun to rise, I knew it must, and I knew that I 

would return to the world of the living.



     With this play that lasted for a night's worth of forever I fell 

asleep before the crow of the cock.  In my belly and in my backside I held 

the eruptions of several satyrs, and in several satyrs they held mine.  And 

as I curled up to lay my head on another's leg and sleep claimed me, I 

knew...





     I awoke in the early morning with a start.  And although startled and 

long dreaming, I felt fully rested and refreshed.  I didn't want to look 

under the blanket, but I knew I had to throw it aside and I did.  I still 

had my feet and the hair on my legs looked the same as ever.  I felt fit, 

although within my belly I felt warm as well.



     I looked at the room and I recognized the windows.  Lead, and so I 

realized I had spent the night at Thom's house.  As I rubbed my head in 

confusion my fingers found a bump, probably from when I had fallen from my 

horse.



     The door opened and Thom entered the room.  "Darynn?  I heard you 

shout."



     "I had a dream," I said.  



     He sat on the bed and smiled.  "Part of a dream," he assured me, 

laying his hand on my thigh.  He wore no boots this morning and I could see 

his hooves clearly.  "You did not dream last night."



     "But I still live."



     "You learned the secret to living," Thomorr replied.  "I need to tell 

you something, Darynn.  You have inside more power than I have seen  in 

four centuries.  You have a beauty that some of the gods cannot match.  And 

you have a will that you can train to take advantage of both.  If I needed 

to describe my feelings about you, Darynn, I would say 'smitten.'"



     "Last night we committed such evil.  Your very existence belies that 

evil."  I lied to him, Aimee'.  Although my upbringing had ground those 

words into my head, I did not feel them.  I felt only trust and a growing 

sense of love for Thomorr, the Lord of the Satyrs of Daber Wood.



     "You know no such thing," he replied.  "I only think of action as 

evil, not mere existance.  Now I have committed what you would call evil  

in the past in my search for a boy like yourself.  But we Satyrs have 

different rules and live by the laws of magic."



     "If I told the townspeople they would come here and they would burn 

you out and they would try to kill you, Thomorr."



     He leaned back, his hands clasped about one knee.  "Yes, I suppose 

they would.  Will you tell them, my beautiful Darynn?  Or will you keep 

this secret, and return to me as we both will it, and let me teach you of 

magic?  You have the born skill but no training.  You have discipline, but 

not in the right talents.  Let me teach you, let me show you."



     "And the cost?"



     "You lived the cost last night.  You gave me everything.  I would not 

dare ask anything more of you but your attention, Darynn."  He looked into 

my eyes and that presence of lust returned and lived again between us.  

"But if you want to share my bed and my pleasure, Darynn, I  will whore for 

you as no woman could ever give."  He smiled as he spoke.



     "Give me privacy, Thom."



     "Certainly."  He rose and left.  Now alone I felt comfortable enough 

to dress.  I gathered my pack and left the room, walking towards the 

stables, hoping to avoid Thomorr.  But he had anticipated my needs and he 

brought my horse to me across the stable's open field.



     Without a word I took the reins from him and I mounted the saddle.  

"Darynn," he said as I turned around to leave.  His voice tugged at me, the 

pain and the hope so readily near.  "Will you tell them?"



     I looked back on him and shook me head.  "I need time to think, 

Thomorr.  I... so much has happened."



     "You cannot go back unchanged.  I cannot undo what I have done."



     "I know.  I will not tell them."



     "Darynn," he said.  "I will summon you again, if only to fix my broken 

windows and mend my gates and shoe my horses.  But I will not mention the 

teaching of magic or the loving of men until you do.  You must choose your 

path, as blacksmith or as mage."  He smiled crookedly.  "Goodbye, handsome 

Darynn."



     I did not speak another word to him as I kicked my horse, encouraging 

her out of the gates of Cailleac and now, through the Daber Wood by the 

safe light of day.





     Archmage Darynn leaned back in his chair.  Aimee' seemed to almost 

squirm in her stool and the effect he thought quite attractive.  "Aimee'?"



     "Sir?"



     "That ends your first lesson.  Sometimes a student's life means 

sitting and listening to your teacher rattle off a boring tale."



     "Your tale did anything but bore me, sir!  I thought at points I might 

cry in fear or sadness or even desire in the telling!"



     Darynn nodded, a smile crossing his face.  "In any event, Teltirray 

has heard it before.  Or at least read it in the records of the Guild.  I 

bid you, Aimee', take my story with you and think on it tonight."



     "I will sir.  Do you dismiss me, then?"



     "I bid you goodnight, Aimee', but my students I never merely 

'dismiss.'"  He grinned.



     "Yes sir, I understand."  She hopped off the stool and made her way to 

the door.  Darynn gestured and the lock opened.



     "Goodnight, Aimee'."



     "Goodnight, Sir Archamge Darynn."



--

"Aimee', Chapter 1"

Aimee' is copyright (c) 1993 Elf Mathieu Sternberg.  This story may be 

freely distributed by electronic media; hardcopies are limited to single 

printings for personal use.



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