27: Imrilda

[Start from the beginning]
Calleslyn crossed the lobby of the Wizards’ College, looking about for someone she knew well enough to talk to. The villa had been attacked by a demon, obviously sent to steal something, and Lady Tarissa had sent her here to find out what she could. Until now they had been reluctant to tell people what they knew of the infernal threat to the city, but having seen a demon openly, they could now ask questions without raising suspicion among the conspirators – whoever they were. Indeed, it would some strange if they did not.

The lobby, however, was relatively empty, so the elf decided to make her next port of call the library. It occupied a significant part of the building, and, while it was not a good place for socialising as such, there was always likely to be someone there. She stepped through the stone archway and looked around, the numerous stacks of books and scrolls hiding much of her view of the interior.

“Can I help you?”

She turned round to see the librarian peering up from a collection of scrolls, a slightly nervous smile on her face. Nariti knew a lot about books and scrolls, but rather less about the actual human world, which would not have made her Calleslyn’s first choice for uncovering any wizards that might be involved in the dark arts. But at least she was present.

“Yes, perhaps,” she said, coming over as the small, mousy woman reflexively smoothed her robes down. “I was wondering about the restricted section of the library.”

“Oh,” said Nariti, looking a little taken aback, “it’s in the basement. And it is, well… it is restricted, you know. You need permission to read those books. They are about demons and things, you know. Not… well, not very nice at all.”

“Yes,” agreed Calleslyn, trying not to sound as if she was stating the obvious, “and I would need to get permission from you, would I not? As the librarian.”

“Well, yes… yes, you would. That would be… or the Master of the College. But otherwise, yes. Um… why do you want to go to the restricted section?”

She decided for the direct approach. “My house has been attacked by a demon.”

Nariti’s eyes widened, and she physically jerked backwards, clutching out for a quill, as if for security. “Oh, my goodness me!” she managed, voice wavering.

“So, I was wondering… who have you given permission to recently? Has anyone been in the restricted section in the past few weeks?”

“You… you can’t imagine that someone from the College…?” asked the librarian, her voice moving up half an octave to a virtual squeak, “I mean… that’s… that’s… Those books are restricted for a reason. I am very careful, I don’t just let people in, you know. We couldn’t be having with that sort of thing.” She fiddled with her quill, looking almost as if she expected a demon to pop up from behind the stacks.

“So, nobody then?”

“No, no… nobody has been in there for a while. Well, except Valmor, and he had permission from the Master of the College. Something about defences, I think. But other than that, no… even I haven’t been in there recently. There isn’t much call for it. The books are perfectly safe.”

Valmor – that was interesting. Calleslyn knew the man as a pompous and arrogant fool, but was he the sort to summon demons? At first the idea seemed absurd, since the man operated more by ingratiating himself with the wealthy and influential members of society. But if the thing beneath the city, whatever it was, was seeking to corrupt people, wouldn’t they be the sort of people it looked for? And would Valmor be the kind to turn down an offer of true power if it was offered to him? She certainly wouldn’t put it past him.

“Well, thank you, Nariti,” she said, “I don’t think I will need to use the restricted section myself, at least not yet,” as a paladin, Lady Tarissa would probably be able to find more useful information on the demon and how to fight it. “But as long as there have been no strangers poking about with infernal tomes, I suppose I may to have to look further afield.”

“Oh good,” said the librarian, looking distinctly relieved, “that’s very good to hear. Glad I could help.” And she sat down at her desk again, spreading out the scrolls as Calleslyn turned away to find someone who might know more about sinister gossip than the socially isolated young woman.

“No, no,” muttered, Nariti, half to herself, “there’s been no strangers doing anything like that since the business with Ornejirhs.”

Calleslyn turned round, frowning in puzzlement, “what business?”

The librarian looked up, as if startled by being heard, “um, you know, with the staff.”

The elf walked back over to the desk, “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Who’s Ornejirhs? And what sort of name is that, anyway?”

“Southern. Um, I think. I mean, he looks southern, doesn’t he? Oh, right, you don’t know. But it was…” suddenly an expression of realisation crossed her face, “oh, of course, that’s right, you were out of the city, doing dangerous things in the wilds. Anyway, he destroyed a magic staff, that’s all I was saying.”

“And this has a connection with demons?”

“Well, it was a demonic staff. Or diabolic, or something. Cursed and evil, anyway. He destroyed it for us, and banished the curse. They say he’s a demon hunter, or something. From the south,” she added again. “I think. Is it important?”

“My house has been attacked by a demon, and this man hunts demons,” Calleslyn pointed out, reflecting that the librarian really didn’t seem very savvy outside her narrow area of expertise, “where can I find him?”

──◊──

Ornejirhs turned out to have rented a moderately sized house on the outskirts of the city, almost on the opposite side to the adventurers’ villa. The neighbourhood was quiet, suggesting that this might well be a man who valued his privacy, since surely somewhere nearer to the college would have been more convenient.

Calleslyn wondered again about the wisdom of coming on her own. Ornejirhs was something of a mystery, a stranger with knowledge of demons who had turned up out of nowhere. But, in a way, that counted in his favour. The little they knew of the thing beneath the city implied that it had taken a long time to establish its control, which meant that an outsider should be free from its taint. Of course, there was always the possibility that it had summoned him here specifically, but that didn’t fit with the fact that he had clearly destroyed a demonic artefact, rather than stealing it for himself, or at least preserving it for future use.

Everything suggested that the stranger was what he claimed to be; a hunter of demons, which was exactly the sort of person she needed information from. She wouldn’t tell him about her fears for the city, but it would be reasonable enough to ask the expert about the demon that had invaded her home. Besides, she wasn’t exactly defenceless.

So why did she have a nagging feeling that something was strange about this mysterious arrival? Perhaps it was just the name, which didn’t sound as if it belonged to any culture she knew of.

So it was with a slight sense of trepidation that she knocked on the door to the rented house. She could hear someone moving about inside, but all the curtains were drawn, hiding any view of the interior. She knocked again, and this time heard footsteps approaching the door… a door that was soon opened by a woman in a most remarkable costume.

It looked, at first glance, as if it ought to have been armour, but that someone had forgotten some of the pieces. Or, to be more accurate, and forgotten almost all of them. The woman wore tight leather boots to just below her knees, and metal bracers around each wrist, and apart from that… well, technically, it was mail armour, but it didn’t look as if it would protect very much. Two triangular pieces of tightly woven steel mail covered each breast, with a narrow armoured strap in between and additional leather straps over each shoulder, and round her back. That last strap was tight enough for the pieces of mail to raise up the woman’s ample breasts, providing them with significant support, and emphasising a rather impressive cleavage.

And that, aside from the bracers and a silver necklace decorated with a carved piece of pale green stone was all she wore above the waist. Her shoulders and upper arms were bare, her long blonde hair falling in rivulets down her back, and her bare waist showed a perfect hourglass figure. Calleslyn’s eyes involuntarily wandered lower, to something that, even being charitable, she was hard pressed to describe as a skirt.

It, too, consisted of two triangular pieces of tight mail, albeit more elongated than those of her upper garment. They hung, front and back, from a narrow belt covered with metal segments, and did nothing at all to conceal the woman’s hips or thighs. Above this curious garment was a second, heavier, belt, from which hung a narrow sword, of the sort sometimes favoured by the people of the south.

For there was no doubt that the woman was from one of the southern lands. Her skin – most of which was on display – was pale, her hair pure blonde and her eyes dazzlingly blue. Calleslyn decided that the woman couldn’t have gone out dressed like this very often, since, aside from the obvious effect on the menfolk of Haredil, with skin that colour, she surely ought to have got sunburned.

“You wanted something?” asked the woman, her distinct accent again betraying her southern origins.

Calleslyn was aware that she had been staring. Not that that was an unreasonable reaction to such a costume, but it was not very polite. She was still trying to work out what the point of it was, unless this was some sort of exotic dancer. The sword rather counted against that theory, but what kind of warrior would want to wear armour that left almost her entire body unprotected, she had no idea – Lady Tarissa was from the south, and she wore full plate.

“I was looking for Ornejirhs. I was told he lives here.”

“Yes, he does,” the oddly dressed woman eyed the elf with suspicion, “but who are you, and why do you want to speak to him?”

“My name is Calleslyn. I am a magician, from the Wizards’ College here. I understand Ornejirhs is an expert on demons, and I wanted his advice.”

“It is true that he knows much about fighting evil,” admitted the woman, then stood silently for a moment, critically appraising the elven magician. After an uncomfortable pause, she opened the door further, although her expression still did not look much more welcoming. “You had better come inside.”

The interior of the house was shadowy, the drawn curtains keeping out the direct sunlight, although they were not heavy enough for the rooms to be truly dark. The strange woman led Calleslyn into the first room on the right of the corridor, which turned out to be fairly spacious, and well decorated.

The room was lit with a reddish light, thanks to the colour of the curtain that covered the window. Most of the furniture looked to have been purchased in Haredil, but there were exotic hangings on the wall whose origins the elf could not place. There was a long, curving sofa, which looked local, but numerous scatter cushions across the floor that did not. This unknown magician and his strange companion, then, had brought at least some more portable items with them, whether from their home, or from some other place that they had visited.

“I am Imrilda,” said the woman, “I am Ornejirhs’ fighting companion. Please, sit anywhere you like.”

“So, is he around?” asked Calleslyn, not entirely sure what to make of the situation.

“No, I am afraid not. He is out on business. But he should be back very shortly, so it would be best for you to wait here. We have wine or water, if you would like to quench your thirst.”

“Thank you.” The elf sat down on the sofa, her earlier feelings of uneasiness having not at all subsided. Something was not quite right about this set up, but she could not put her finger on it. She at least took consolation from the fact that Imrilda looked equally uncertain, and that she probably did not know how experienced a magician Calleslyn actually was.

The blonde woman left the room and returned shortly after with a bottle of white wine and a couple of glasses. She did not sit herself, standing instead, near to the door.

“So, where are you from?” she asked, breaking the uneasy silence as both women eyed the other.

“South of here.”

Well, that was vague. “And Ornejirhs?”

“Yes, he is from the south, too.”

“It’s not a southern name, though.”

“Haredil is a long way north, there is much to the south of here. There are many different peoples there.”

“So which people does Ornejirhs belong to?”

Imrilda stiffened slightly, and clearly thought about her answer before replying. “He is from further south than I am. A distant land, not well known to my people, and even less so here.”

“How did you meet?”

“He’ll be here shortly, you can ask him then.” The blonde crossed her arms, and leaned back against the wall, her eyes not straying from her guest. It seemed that she was not in the mood for further conversation. Not that she had been very forthcoming so far, even assuming she was being truthful.

Having little else to do, Calleslyn looked around the room. It looked comfortable enough, and the decorations were not, she suspected, cheap. Ornejirhs, then, had somewhat expensive tastes. There were a few carvings here and there, she noticed, placed on low tables or stands. Some were stone, images of what appeared to be gods or heroes, but others were ivory, and these were either of animals – many of which were unfamiliar to her – or strange abstract designs of curving shapes and intricate swirls. The decorations on the wall hangings were all abstract, too, she noticed, and there seemed something a little odd about them. Whatever culture Ornejirhs called home, it had a different sense of aesthetics than any of those she knew.

Imrilda was a puzzle, as well. She wore that sword, and claimed to be a ‘fighting companion’ whatever that meant. Yet, at least when she was at home, she wore outlandish and provocative clothing that seemed out of place for a warrior. Considering what she was wearing, it was difficult to avoid noticing that she had a stunning figure, with a narrow waist and flat belly, well moulded thighs, and an ample bosom.

Her pale skin looked flawless, which was another puzzle. Any fighter had a few scars, but there were none that Calleslyn could see. That could have just been good healing magic, but it occurred to the elf that there was a good chance the armour itself was magic. It made no sense in any other context, but if it somehow projected magical protection over those parts of the body that it didn’t cover, that was at least a partial explanation. Although, even so, it was a wonder she didn’t wear anything over it – and Imrilda’s natural pose suggested that she was used to the clothing, and hadn’t been caught half-undressed. 

Not to mention that it was very cold down south, which surely made the choice of clothing even more unwise.

The time dragged on, with Imrilda simply standing there, watching, and Calleslyn feeling increasingly ill at ease. Finally, she broke the silence.

“Is he going to be much longer? Because it has been a while already.”

“I do not think it will be much longer.”

The elf was not convinced by the warrior-woman’s continued evasion. “Perhaps I could leave a message,” she said, “I can be back tomorrow.”

“Why don’t you have another glass of wine? I’ll pour one.” Imrilda moved over to the bottle, turning away from Calleslyn to pour another glass, giving the elven woman a good view of her shapely buttocks, only half-hidden by the triangle of skirt-like mail. “Here,” she said, turning round and holding out the glass.”

“No thank you, I must be getting back.”

Calleslyn stepped towards the door, and Imrilda immediately put the glass down and moved to stand in her way. Her right hand was hovering just above the hilt of her sword.

“It will not be long. It will be easier to wait than to return tomorrow. It will save you a walk.”

Behind her back, Calleslyn flexed her fingers, preparing a sleeping spell that would knock the blonde woman out cold. The magical energy began to curl around her fingers, and she prepared to make the sudden motion that would cast the spell.

“Elves,” said Imrilda, “we have stories about them where I am from. Near the pine forests.”

The magician paused, uncertain what to make of the sudden change of topic, but wondering if it might give her further information.

“They say that they enchant people away. They cast a glamour of some kind on young men, leading them away into the forests. Many are not seen again, but some, they say, come back changed. Is that true, do you think?”

“I don’t know. I’m not that familiar with that part of the world, as you pointed out yourself.”

Imrilda nodded, her eyes not leaving Calleslyn’s own, but her hand moving away from her sword, fingers spread, as if in a gesture of peace. “But that’s not all they say.”

“Oh?”

“They say that the young men… it is not always the elven women that enchant them away. They say that sometimes, it’s the elven men. Does that seem possible?”

“Perhaps. But I don’t know if it’s true.”

“You see, there is something I’ve noticed about you, Calleslyn. Something that makes me curious. I wear this armour to protect me.”

“It’s magical, I assume?”

“Naturally; it would have to be, as I am sure you realise. But that’s not the only way it protects me, or I would choose something else. Because it is also distracting. When men look at it, they tend to falter, perhaps make mistakes they would not otherwise; it can be very advantageous at times. Not all the time, of course. It doesn’t distract animals, obviously enough, and, of course, it doesn’t work on women, either.”

Calleslyn said nothing, waiting for Imrilda to make her point.

“Except, Calleslyn…” her voice dropped to a purring tone, soft and slow, yet tinged with a slightly cold menace, “except it has been distracting you, hasn’t it? Ever since you first saw me, you have been looking at me as a man would… and, believe me, I know how men look at me. I did wonder at first if you were using some sort of powerful disguising magic, but I don’t think that’s it. I thought I had to be wary of you, keep you here until Ornejirhs returned, but I don’t think you present that kind of danger to me, after all.”

“No,” she went on, “I don’t think you want to hurt me, or Ornejirhs either, for that matter. I don’t think that that is what you want to do to me at all. Because you know what I think, Calleslyn? I think those stories about the elves are true. And the way you’ve been looking at me, it’s not just the elven men, is it?”

She took a half step forward, leaning towards the elven woman, so that their faces were inches apart. “I think I know what you want to do to me, Calleslyn. What you’d really, really, like to do to me.”

They stood like that, silently facing each other, with the elf trying not to give any hint of an answer on her face. Behind her back, she moved her fingers again, ready to throw the spell.

“No answer? Well, we’ll just have to see whether I am right, won’t we?”

So saying, she leaned a little further forward, took the surprised elf’s face in her hands and kissed her on the lips. Calleslyn pulled back, unsure of how to react, but Imrilda simply pushed more forcefully forwards, kissing her again, and pressing her body up against the elf’s own. This time Calleslyn held the kiss, wanting to see how Imrilda would react, but if she was faking anything, she was good at it, because moments later they were locked together in a passionate kiss, tongues entwining, the human woman’s hand running through her long hair.

Calleslyn flicked her fingers, negating the prepared spell, and instead reached out to caress her partner’s bare flank. The skin was smooth and soft, warm beneath her touch as she slid her hand round to feel the bumps along Imrilda’s spine. The other woman certainly didn’t seem to be so cold and distant now!

They broke apart, breathing heavily, and Imrilda gently, but forcefully pressed down on the elf’s shoulders, pushing her down to lie among the scatter cushions. Calleslyn lay back, watching the other woman kneel over her, legs either side of her own. She still didn’t know what to make of the turn of events, although it was difficult to drag her attention from the human’s magnificent cleavage, now rising and falling most enticingly beneath the skimpy mail protection.

“You’re not still trying to keep me here, are you?” she asked.

“Not for that reason,” replied Imrilda, breathily. “If I were, would I do this?” she unbuckled the wide belt that held her sword, and threw both it and the weapon away to one side, out of easy reach. “You think only elven women have those sorts of desires?”

“I’m realising that it’s more common among human women than I thought,” admitted the magician.

“Perhaps this will demonstrate my sincerity,” said Imrilda, reaching behind her back to undo the ties of her upper garment. She tossed it away, exposing her large, well rounded breasts.

Calleslyn slid her hands up the other woman’s flanks, running over her ribs and then moving to fondle her breasts. Imrilda’s nipples were pink and rosy, swelling as the elf’s fingertips brushed over them. Whatever else she might be hiding, Calleslyn doubted the human woman could fake that reaction.

Imrilda leaned forward, pushing herself up on her hands and knees, poised over the magician, long blond hair cascading over her shoulders and large breasts hanging down. She bent down for another brief kiss, then pulled back to reach down and undo her skirt-like garment, throwing that beside another cushion. Underneath, she wore panties consisting of no more than a single piece of soft brown material held over her bare hips by a narrow thong.

The elf squeezed one of Imrilda’s breasts, tweaking the nipple slightly beneath her fingers and drawing a pleasured grunt from her partner. At last, the human woman rolled over onto her back, hooking a leg around one of Calleslyn’s to pull the elf over on top of her.

The magician lost no time in moving straight to those large breasts again, running her hands over every inch of them, kissing Imrilda’s heaving cleavage, then fastening her mouth onto a long pink nipple, licking and sucking it, teasing it with the edge of her teeth. The warrior woman let out a soft moan, grinding her hips in a circular motion against the carpet beneath their entwined bodies.

“Mmm… you are good,” said Imrilda contentedly as Calleslyn briefly licked the inner sides of both her breasts before moving the attentions of her tongue to the other side.

One of the human woman’s hands wandered up to feel the curve of Calleslyn’s slight breasts through the fabric of her dress, doubtless discovering that the elf’s nipples were already hard with desire. But the magician pulled away from her, kneeling upright to take a good look at the almost naked woman laid out before her. She ran a hand over Imrilda’s belly, teasing her finger into the navel, then moving down over her rounded hips.

She raised the woman’s legs up one by one – Imrilda was no longer using them to hold her down – and slowly pulled off each long boot. The human woman wriggled her toes, and she kissed her ankles, sliding her tongue over the inside of her shin, then blowing gently against the backs of her knees. The warrior’s legs were spread apart, the skimpy panties now her only remaining item of clothing. Calleslyn slid a hand down one shapely thigh to reach for the thong.

Before she knew it, Imrilda had twisted her legs around, and thrown her onto her back, once again leaning over her.

“Your turn to show,” said the blonde warrior, “let me see what you have to offer.”

She hiked Calleslyn’s skirts up around her hips, running her hands over the exposed thighs then up into the back of her panties to feel her buttocks.

“You keep in good shape,” she observed, “let me see the rest.”
With some difficulty, for Imrilda was still holding her legs pinioned between her own, Calleslyn began to wriggle out of her dress. The other woman was soon helping her, divesting her of both the outer garment and the shift underneath. She cupped one of the elf’s small breasts, rubbing the nipple with her thumb.

“I think my theory about elven women is looking pretty good at the moment, don’t you?” she asked, bending down to kiss the magician before she could reply.

It was a long, passionate kiss, Calleslyn running her hands through the woman’s hair and down her back as their breasts pressed together. The human’s legs released their grip, as her hips began moving slightly against Calleslyn’s own, and she took the opportunity to roll her partner over onto her back, into another pile of the scatter cushions.

She moved back onto her knees as Imrilda’s hands wandered over her body, their soft touch enticing. The hands wandered lower, easing her panties down around her thighs. Imrilda stroked her exposed mound, riffling the soft hair there, and making appreciative sounds.

Calleslyn reached down, caressing her partner’s thighs and hips for a moment, before pulling down her panties. Imrilda’s blonde bush was thick, and the way her legs were already parted, holding the elf in position meant that her sex was fully exposed. Calleslyn ran a finger along it, finding it damp with anticipation. The warrior shivered at the touch, letting out a long gasp as the elf continued to rub her swollen and obviously eager lips.

Calleslyn eased a finger inside, rubbing gently as she did so, making the other woman squirm with desire. Imrilda’s legs trembled as she let out a sobbing moan, and with a twist, Calleslyn was free of them, taking the opportunity to fully remove both her own panties and those of her partner. Imrilda sat up, and they embraced, kissing, hands exploring each other’s bodies.

The human woman’s kisses moved down her neck, over her collarbone, as Calleslyn arched her head backwards. Imrilda pressed her lips against each of the elf’s nipples in turn, licking each with the tip of her tongue. Then she took Calleslyn’s body in her hands, easing her slowly backwards and away. At first, the magician was unsure what the other woman wanted, but soon her legs were being adjusted, and they sat, half leaning away from each other, legs placed so that their pussies touched.

Imrilda began to rub herself up and down, their exposed and sensitive lips sliding against one another in a rhythmic motion. The warrior woman was flushed, eyes closed, and repeatedly gasping out loud, as her hips continued their delightful gyration against Calleslyn’s own. The elf reached out to caress her partner’s full breasts, admiring the way that they moved as Imrilda’s cries became more urgent.

She pressed against the other woman, gently forcing her down onto her back, and breaking the embrace. Imrilda moaned in frustration until Calleslyn placed her hand back over the damp pussy, its juices now slightly mingled with her own. She slid a finger in, and then a second as Imrilda arched her back, thrusting her hips up into the air.

Calleslyn grabbed one of the cushions with her free hand, placing it beneath the warrior’s buttocks to make her more comfortable. Imrilda was bucking against her slender hand, urging her to thrust more quickly, and Calleslyn obliged, drawing the loudest cries yet from the human woman. She continued the motion, pumping harder, rubbing her thumb against the other woman’s clit, and admiring the increasingly rapid rise and fall of Imrilda’s ample breasts.

Leaning over, without easing her ministrations on the woman’s slick cunt, she once again took a long pink nipple in her mouth, kissing it and pressing her face into the softness of the mound. Imrilda came suddenly, crying out, and then panting heavily as she regained her breath, and slid away from the elf’s still teasing fingers.

“I thought you would be good,” she said, “but…” and then she trailed off as Callesyn manoeuvred herself over her face, dying for her own release, knowing that her own pussy was more than ready.

She felt Imrilda’s probing finger on her clit, and sighed with relief as the warrior began to move it in gently circling motions. Soon the finger was moving deeper in, repeating her own urgent actions of just moments before. She lowered herself, until she felt the woman’s tongue and lips begin to lick at her clit as the finger continued its rhythmic probing.

She was close, she knew, moving her hips back and forth in time, unable to prevent passionate moans from escaping her own lips. Imrilda’s heavy breasts ground against her belly, nipples pressing into her flesh, as the finger reached its deepest yet and she felt a gentle suction on her clit that finally brought her over the edge.

She collapsed, rolling over to lie on the cushions as she regained her breath. After a moment, she rose onto one elbow, flipping a stray strand of hair out of her eyes. The warrior was still lying there, breasts rising and falling gently now, legs slightly apart, and with a deeply contented expression on her face.

Calleslyn got to her feet and walked over to the forgotten wine glass, thinking to quench her thirst. But as she raised it to her lips, she noticed an unmistakable tang to the bouquet that had not been there before. The wine was drugged, something that a mere human nose might have difficulty detecting. Imrilda obviously did not know elves quite as well as she had thought.

The warrior must have noticed her reaction, and hesitation with the wine glass, because, with a sudden curse, she rolled across the floor reaching for her discarded sword belt to draw the weapon.

Before she could even finish pulling it from the scabbard, Calleslyn’s hand moved with a blur, and she muttered an incantation, flinging a burst of silvery blue light towards the woman. Imrilda’s eyes closed, and she collapsed, the sword hilt falling from her numb fingers as a heavy sleep overtook her.

Calleslyn swore under her breath, and reached for her clothes, scattered among the cushions on the floor. As she finished pulling the shift over her head, there was a sudden bang behind her and she whirled to see a man standing in the suddenly open doorway.

He was dressed in long robes, decorated with abstract symbols, tall and with long hair so blonde it was almost white. She tried to cast another spell, but her hands were still caught in her clothing, and an instant later it was he who cast a spell, a flash of light filling her vision.

And then everything went black as Calleslyn slumped to the floor unconscious.