Date: Wed, 5 Jun 2013 00:13:57 +0100
From: Enchanting Enchanter <enchantingenchantor@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Enchanter's Storybook: Chapter Four

This is the first series that I have written on Nifty. I plan for it to be
a fictional story that includes some mythical creatures like trolls and
witches, with a romantic or otherwise aspect that is of the same sex. It is
not real, may I also add, and is simply a storybook told from the point of
view of the writer, me, who is also the Enchanter; hence the title "The
Enchanter's Storybook".

Set in a medieval world, abundant with magic and fictitious creatures, this
story is about Marcus Mallow and his ascent through the dark outer world of
his hidden human village of Rocky Pass.

If you are lawfully restrained or under the legal age limit to be reading
this material, please leave. Thank you.

Finally, if you truly wish to understand the plot, it would help to read
all previous chapters, or else there is no point to reading this chapter.
You wouldn't start a book by reading the fourth chapter, so don't start
this series reading the fourth chapter.

Now to start the fourth chapter of the tale.

The Enchanter's Storybook: Chapter Four

Far passed the dim and dark caves atop Mount Skull, well passed the almost
unending desert of the Sunstretch, and deep into the enchanted forests that
separated the outer world from the bitter remains of the Empire of mankind,
stood the encampment of the trolls.

Ever since they had been taken from Mount Skull, Darius and Marcus had been
trapped between the cold metal bars of their cage. They were like trapped
little birds, unable to be freed and unable to escape. After they had been
taken from Mount Skull, they passed into treacherous and sky-scraping
mountains that broke and cracked the land for miles. After the snow-capped
mountains and the rocked and tumbled ground began to fade, they reared at
the Sunstretch desert. The trolls had enough water and food, but the heat
was the problem in the Sunstretch. It was scorching, and made Marcus feel
like he was somehow melting like candle wax. It burned constantly by day,
heating the cage to an unbearable temperature. The sun stared down on them,
so blisteringly hot that even their villainous companions seemed to dislike
it. But by night, the desert froze like a lake in winter, and became a dark
and windy road that just didn't seem to end. The cage grew cold and
irritated his skin, and the ominous moon glowed gloomily in the sky,
surrounded by thousands of flickering stars that glistened so graciously
above them.

Marcus had counted eleven nights, since their capture at Mount Skull.
Eleven nights trapped in a cage, five of them spent travelling meekly
through the Sunstretch. Yet ever since the forests came about them, their
imprisonment wasn't such a hell. The sun was always hidden by the trees
towering above them, creating an unending green roof. There was always
water, and even citrus and colourful fruit in the trees or shrubbery. The
trolls seemed to be less angered too, and seemed more calm. Yet, by night,
they kept the cage among the leaves, and all Marcus heard were the
screeching sounds of two beasts mating a few feet away.

After the fifth day, Marcus had stopped worrying that they were going to be
killed. If they had wanted to kill us, they would have done it on the
mountain, he told himself repeatedly. Why would they bother to carry them
through mountains and desert and forestland, if just to kill them later on?

Yet Darius seemed unconvinced of their motives. He was always tense and
serious, never the joyed and jolly friend Marcus had known for the better
part of his life.

"I would like to know why they are holding us prisoner," Darius mumbled,
sometime during the night. It had been long after the trolls were mating,
but just before dawn would break across the horizon they could not see. All
they could see were the trees and the bushes; all they could hear were the
chirping of crickets and the barking of birds, sometimes even the howls of
wolves; all they could smell was the grass, the pollen in the flowers, the
essence of life that the mountains and the deserts before them lacked.
Three days passing through windy mountains, five days trenching through
sandstorm-cursed deserts, and in all eight days they had not felt so...
enchanted. It was the three days in the forests that gave them strength,
and the will to move on. Marcus knew they weren't dubbed the enchanted
forests for any other kind of reason other than they were enchanted.

"Then you should ask them," Marcus replied, looking at his friend on the
opposite side of the cage. They hadn't stayed close for a long time, all
Darius did was curl into a ball in the corner of the cage, not speaking,
hardly moving. That upset Marcus for quite some time, yet the boy became
use to it.

"Like they'd tell the truth. Trolls are liars, just like that red-haired
witch. She deserved what they gave her, but we don't."

"Varia didn't deserve to die," Marcus said stubbornly. "She was a witch,
but she wasn't cruel. They were only here to cast a spell, or something
like it. Varia would have easily allowed us to leave, the trolls were the
true pests." Marcus seemed certain that Varia was a kind person at heart.
She tried to save him, didn't she? He shed tears for her. Her death was
unjust.

Darius didn't seem to be listening, but Marcus didn't mind. He was like
that, lately. So morose, never smiling, always serious. Marcus knew they
were in a dire situation, but that didn't mean he had to be so...
vexed. Darius became accustomed to closing his ears. He just ate, drank,
pissed, and shit. And, of course, he spoke, but too little and at the most
random times, and always about matters concerning their imprisonment. He
didn't expect an answer.

Marcus didn't know why, but the first time they let the two boys out to
piss, he felt the need to watch Darius. He hadn't seen much but small
glimpses. He had the same as Marcus, but probably bigger. Yet Marcus felt
his grow as he watched, and scorned himself for it before he returned. Yet
he could never draw his eyes away from Darius as he pissed. On the fourth
day, Darius noticed him watching, and just smiled that wan smile of his,
before finishing off and putting it away.

"Why are they keeping us with them?" he asked again, but probably expecting
no answer. Darius was just pondering his thoughts, picking at his mind,
trying to find some excuse that would explain any of their situation
justly.

Marcus decided that he had had enough of Darius's relentless and
contemptible behavior. It wasn't the friend he knew, it was a stranger that
needed to leave and bring Darius back to him. He reached out his hand and
grabbed Darius's, tugging him out of his little ball and forcing him to sit
up properly. He shuffled over beside him and cradled him, for the first
time. His warmth spread through his body like wildfire to wood, and his
strawberry smell burst into his nose so heavenly. Marcus stirred a while,
before he could speak. His strong and pungent scent just made him slightly
drowsy, it overpowered him.

"What's wrong?" Marcus asked solemnly, stroking his jet black,
strawberry-smelling hair.

"We're held prisoner by two trolls. They've taken us from our home and
brought us here. What is it that the beasts want with us? I want to know!"
Darius seemed to grow more anxious by the hour, and Marcus had learned over
the years that his anxiety had often fueled his anger and rage.

Attempting to calm him down, he squeezed him in tighter and stroked his
soft face, laying his finger across his smooth cheek and his nose, even his
lips. His fingers pressed over them and then stroked back up to his
forehead.

"Does it really matter what they'll do to us, Darius? We can't help it, not
in this cage, not against trolls. We're just... we're just boys," he said
calmly, not taking his eyes off of the head that was resting gently against
his chest.

"They're going to hurt us, or kill us, and why don't you care?" Darius
asked plainly, not raising his voice, but still sounding rather irregular
and different, not quite himself.

"I do care, I'm just not afraid. I have you, and all they have is their
horrible magic."

"Are you saying we should escape?" Darius asked, lifting his head to look
Marcus in the eyes. Marcus softened, looking into those hazel brown eyes,
beady and watery. They looked at him so fervidly, his heart was thumping
against his chest and the lump in his throat lurched. Darius seemed
alerted, yet not in a bad way. It seemed to lift his spirits, a little,
taking the contempt from him.

"Maybe... I don't know."

The leaves around the cage began to shake and quiver, and the boys stayed
silent almost immediately. Darius moved away from Marcus sullenly, and
wrapped his arms around the cage, looking at the rumbling greenery.

And out came Kryt the troll, an unfortunate smile across her face. She
looked at the cage and snickered, then whispered droll words in another
language, as she did every morn. Then the cage shook and came to life,
pulling itself behind Kryt, following her back to their camp.

"You boys had a good sleep?" she asked meekly, though carelessly.

"No," Darius spat.

"Well then, aren't you a rude little fucker? Back in the Trollsturf,
speaking to me like that'd get you castrated. Need to shit, or make water,
is it?"

"No," Darius and Marcus said together. They tried to make water the least
they could, yet it was hard to hold sometimes, and Marcus was forced to pee
through the bars of the cage. It embarrassed him, but it was only Darius
who saw.

"Here, then, stinky bastards," she murmured, throwing a sack of food and a
waterskin into the cage. Inside, there were a few dates and apples, grapes
and strawberries, whatever they could pick from the trees. It was usually
bitter or dirty water in the waterskin, but this time it was flavourless,
which was good. Rather no flavour than a foul flavour, Marcus
thought. "Don't eat it all at once, you won't get more for a while. The
forest ends about a mile west from here, then it's into the real world."

"Why do you keep us captive?" Darius suddenly asked, his face brooding,
sulking so heavily. You could see in his face that the boy hadn't
slept. The purple bags under his eyes sagged like the wrinkles on Kryt's
face. His eyes were heavy and grouchy, peering tiredly out at the troll. He
was restless.

"Why? Tell me, boy, do you know the history of your kind?"

"Not much of it."

"Well, let me tell you. You probably don't know about the outer world, will
you? Well, a thousand years ago, there were nine kingdoms ruled by human
kings, and they were united into one Empire of the Nine. And then this
Empire of mankind crossed it's borders and invaded its neighbouring
kingdoms. One by one, its enemies fell, and the Empire of mankind was
almost unstoppable, until the Empire began invading the Witchlands. That
sparked a war against humans and witches, and the witches called to its
allies - the trolls, dragons, giants, fairies, the most powerful magical
creatures that would help. The Empire, against all of magic, and the Empire
lost. At the end of the war dragons, giants, and mankind were considered
extinct. The Empire of the Nine fell, and so did mankind - or so we
thought. But looking at you, I'd say mankind ran into Rocky Pass after they
smelled their own defeat."

"What happened to the world, then?" Darius asked deftly.

"What happened? What do you think happened? There was an entire Empire that
now sat empty, nine fallen kingdoms ripe for the taking, and every creature
fought for all the lands they could take. The witches took the most, as did
the fairies and us trolls. The Witchlands is the biggest and strongest
kingdom in the Known World now, or so they say. They're allied with the
Trollsturf, our lands, too."

"What is your point?"

"My point is that mankind were once powerful, but they were killed, and
they made enemies along the way. In time, the magical creatures forged
their own lands and kingdoms, thinking mankind was as dead as dragons. What
do you reckon someone would pay for the last humans alive? Quite a bit,
we're guessing, so we're taking you to the Trollsturf and selling you to
the highest buyer!" she laughed, her voice ululating horribly.

"But we aren't the last humans, and why would anyone want us? What will
they do to us?"

"Depends on which sort we sell you to, I suppose. A witch would kill
you. They hate humans. And a troll would do the same but rape you first."

"So there is no hope for us? You'd just sell us off to our death?" Darius
dared.

"For a price," was her simple answer. "And... I suppose if a fairy or a
centaur buys you, they wouldn't hurt you too much. You might live, if they
were kind. But the Witchlands rule the world, boys, yet that didn't help
Varia, and it certainly won't help you!"

Darius sat back down against the bars and bid the troll her leave, resuming
his sullen look of disdain and discord. Marcus frowned at him; their fate
was now sealed.

The barred metallic cage shook and stumbled, crashing through the forest
and moving of its own accord. It rolled on through the shrubs and passed
the oaken trees and sentinels, and covered at least a few hundred feet
before the encampment came into view. It was just a plain, grassy opening
with enough space to light a fire and lie down flat. It was there that they
saw Myrdok, their other troll gaoler, as naked as the day he was born.

Marcus looked at him, both astonished and disgusted. The warts and wrinkles
did not stop at his face, but spread all over his disgustingly fat and
hairy body; and the troll was extremely gifted with his bodily weaponry.

"What're you looking at, human?!" the troll spat, covering himself in his
horrid brown furs. "Kryt, we shouldn't bring these fuckers back to the
Trollsturf, no matter what they're worth. I say we give them a red smile
and be done with them. Let the forest-beasts at them," Myrdok said, his
eyes glowing for the thirst of blood.

"No. We need that money more than we need to kill them," the troll
reasoned.

"Then why the hell go to Trollsturf, when the Witch Queens would pay
quadruple the price of anyone you'd find there? The witches are the
richest, they'd pay the most!" Myrdok announced, packing up their furs and
sheets from the floor, readying to move camp.

"Because I reckon we sell them off at the Trollsturf, then go to the
Witchlands and sell the Witch Queens information instead. They'd pay a
higher price for an entire village of humans than two little boys, wouldn't
they? And we know exactly where that village is!"

"We aren't like rare diamonds or endangered birds, you know! We're people,
we have feelings, we aren't something for you to sell like slaves!" Darius
shouted, though not moving from the cage.

"If we had "rare diamonds" or "endangered birds", we'd sell them, but all
we've got is you, so we're selling you. Now shut your fucking mouth or I'll
fill it with this!" Myrdok roared, grabbing his crotch fiercely.

And on went the trolls, pushing through the bushes and stomping on
dully. The cage pushed on behind them, like a shadow, yet the trolls seemed
not to regard it. They just droned on ahead, stomping, shouting, being as
vile as their appearance through the enchanted forests.

Marcus knew this would be their last day in the enchanted forest, so he
tried to make the most of it, somehow. Taking in some of the essence,
reminding himself of the smells of pine and sentinels and nature.

"Marcus, we need to escape," Darius whispered, shrugging over to him to
hold his hand. "If only we knew how."

"Perhaps there is a way," Marcus replied, eyeing Darius curiously.

"How?"

"If we kill them, then we can get the keys from Kryt's belt, I think. Then
the cage will open. If we kill them..."

"Kill them?" Darius looked a little frightened at the prospect of
murder. "How can we kill two trolls? And even so, how can we be sure it
will work?" Darius asked.

Marcus didn't answer his question, he just slid his arm out of the cage as
far as it could go, and grabbed a vine dangling from a tree. He took it and
wrapped as much of it as he could around the bars of the cage. As the cage
pushed forward, the vine stretched out, never stopping or shaking. Marcus
was right. The magic making the cage move wouldn't stop for a vine - and
the vine bent, snapped, leaving Marcus with a long rope of vine. It was
long and stretchy, sprinkled in thorns that cut deep into his skin as he
yanked it away from the bars. He wiped his bloody hands on the clothes and
presented the vine to Darius, who look utterly nonplussed.

"What on earth can we do with that?"

"It can strangle someone. It's strong, slender, the thorns draw blood. It
can probably weaken Kryt long enough to take her dagger and stab her with
it. We can do it on the morn, when she comes to get us. We'll draw her
close to the cage, strangle her, then grab the dagger. Then we kill her and
grab the keys, open the cage and..."

"And escape?"

"Yes. And escape."

"It's a good plan, Marcus, but Kryt is a troll with magic, and what about
Myrdok? We won't even be able to kill one troll, never mind two."

Yet when the night frowned upon the boys, they had long left the enchanted
forests and had hidden the vine in Darius's shirt - which he had
removed. That left Marcus to see his nakedness from the waist upwards, his
growing boy muscles, and the simple perfectness of his statuesque figure.

Since the forests had ended, all that spaced before them were endless
fields, stony hills with no pathways, and a horizon with no end, no glimmer
of civilization. It seemed to drone on forever, the starlit sky looming
above. The moon was waning; the stars were disappearing as the sun grew
across the new morning sky. It broke the horizon like a new painting, with
hued and bright splatters of purple and pink and red and orange.

Kryt spoke of a village beyond the horizon, before night came. She told
them they were now in the lands of the trolls: the Trollsturf, and any
village they came across would only be home to more of them. Marcus knew by
then that if they could not kill the trolls in the morning, it would be too
late, and they would be surrounded by a whole village of these vile beasts.

For the night, the trolls had left the cage on one side of a steep and
stony hill, while they mated and encamped on the other side. The hill could
have been a mountain, but in a micro form. Too steep to climb, yet not high
enough to obscure much of the sky.

When they heard Kryt coming, Darius grabbed his shirt and held it
close. Marcus took the waterskin she had given him the day before and
dropped it outside of the cage, to hopefully lure her in. Their plan was
coming into place.

"Morning, boys," she said joyously, with a slicker of a smile across her
face.

She came into sight, her ugly, one-eyed face a little more wrinkled and her
hair a little more messed. It looked like an old tumbleweed, tousled across
her thin and ugly head. She was such a small woman, she would be almost too
easy for two thirteen year old boys to overpower. Yet, Myrdok was like a
giant, and he would be difficult. But Marcus had noticed the frailness of
both of their skins. It was aged and wrinkled, and easier to slice through
than a wheel of cheese.

"Need to make water, have a shit?" she asked again.

"No. But I need a drink, and the waterskin dropped," Marcus said, reaching
out his hand and faking an attempt at trying to grab the waterskin from the
green grass below. His hand was much too short, and he knew Kryt would have
to grab it herself.

She approached so confidently, like she was somehow immortal, and bent
down. Just as she did, Darius leaped to the side of the cage and unloosened
the vine. With little difficulty, he pulled his hands between the bars and
wrapped the vine around her throat and held it tight. The troll twisted and
fell, jerked and throbbed, and blood began seeping out of her neck. She
turned and sat on her rear, her back pressed against the cage, trying to
pull away the vine. She tried to scream, but Darius stuffed her mouth with
his shirt. She tried to pull his hands away, her eyes full of the fear of
death swooping in for her.

Knowing it was their only chance, Marcus pulled his hand out of the cage
and grabbed at her belt. Yanking it further up her body, he grabbed hold of
her steel dagger and twisted his arm around, so the blade came face to face
with the troll.

Kryt's eyes flashed with death, and Marcus closed his own, then drew the
knife straight toward her face and straight into her empty eye socket. It
took all of the strength he had, but the dagger stuck into her face like a
knife slicing cheese, just as easy as he had anticipated. Blood squirted
out of her socket, and her body wriggled and writhed in pain. She turned
pale so suddenly, and her moving stopped abruptly. Her struggling stopped.

She died.

Marcus, his eyes still closed, used all of his strength to pull the knife
out of her face, while Darius took away the vine. He bent down, his arms
much longer that Marcus's, and pulled up the set of keys.

"It worked!" he whispered, while twisting his hand out of the bars and
rustling the keys into the lock. From there, it was easy to open the cage
and sneak around the hill. They had decided Marcus go around one side, and
Darius the other. They hadn't planned on what they would do with Myrdok,
but Marcus hoped it would be painful.

Marcus wasn't thinking straight - only of his freedom. Once he had reached
the side of the hill, he peaked around and saw Myrdok spread across the
floor, naked again, lying on their stained furs and sheets. Not thinking,
Marcus tip-toed out as quiet as a spider. After he had gotten close enough
to Myrdok did he discover that the troll was still asleep.

He looked down at the long, meaty limb spread between his legs. Crossing
over to it, he brought his hand out and touched it. It was warm, but it
made him shiver. He grasped it in his palm, and felt it grow between his
fingers.

"Hmmmmm... Kryt... stroke it...," the troll moaned, but Marcus did not grab
it to stroke it. With his other hand, he held Kryt's dagger, and brought it
towards his monstrous length. He held it up, now hard as rock, and slashed
the blade over it as many times as he could, until the limb chopped off and
now lay on his hand, covered in blood. Blood was now pouring out of
Myrdok's groin, all over his stomach.

The troll's eyes flashed open on the first slash, screaming and wailing. He
rose, his eyes watering, growing paler from the loss of blood. He found his
feet and climbed to them, and looked down at his bare groin.

"I'd like to see you put it in my mouth now!" Darius screamed from behind
him, as he appeared from behind the hill.

The troll screamed, looking down at the empty patch, then looked over to
Marcus with a rage like no other. Marcus only squeezed the separated limb
in his hands, and then dropped it to the floor, giving the troll a winning
smile. He stomped on it, and crushed it like a twig. Then he kicked it over
to the troll, who was now weeping. Myrdok was raging, yet in unbelievable
pain, he looked over at the boy who had taken his manhood, who had made the
troll a eunuch.

Myrdok tumbled for Marcus, naked, and grabbed him by the shoulders. Before
he could get his hands around his neck, Marcus pushed the dagger that
chopped off his limb deep into his intestines, ragging it along inside and
tearing away at his wrinkled flesh. He pulled it out, then urged it back
inside, thrusting and thrusting, letting the blood fall over his hands and
down his arm, looking straight into the troll's terrified eyes. Blood
cascaded out of his stomach like a waterfall, down his hairy legs, making
puddles of glittering crimson across the blades of grass on the floor.

In the morning sun, Myrdok dropped to the floor, growing paler by the
second. His intestines were protruding from his stomach, yet he still
lived.

Darius saw to that, after he took the troll's sword from his pile of
clothes near the hill. He pulled the hefty troll onto his back, to face him
as the life poured away. The troll's eyes were scared, terrified.

"This is the wrath of mankind," Darius bellowed, and lifted the sword above
his head. He held the handle with two hands, the point of the blade
pointing right at Myrdok's face. Dropping it, it lashed the troll directly
in the bridge of his nose, sliding between his eyes and stabbing his face
profusely. He lifted it once more, and dropped it, and dropped it again,
and again, until the troll's face looked like a bow-and-arrow
target. Eventually, Myrdok stopped his moans of pain and writhing in
complete horror.

He died.

"Marcus," Darius said, quiet and innocent. He stepped away from the corpse
of the troll and approached his friend, letting the bloody sword fall to
the floor. Blood covered both their hands, from fingertips to elbows, and
it had squirted across their clothes and faces.

"Yes?" Marcus answered, his feet somehow forced into the ground. It was the
weight that he had killed someone, yet the boy felt no regret. He liked the
kill. He liked that he was so able to remove such awful beasts from the
world. Marcus did have darkness, but it was not a witch's darkness. His
darkness was human darkness, the magic in mankind that was never discovered
- until now. Never before was it thought that mankind were magical
creatures, but they were, and Marcus Mallow knew he must have been the
first to understand.

"I love you too," Darius said, to a question he was asked weeks ago. He
grabbed the blood-soaked hands of his friend, and looked into his eyes with
such a dazzling look. His hazel eyes look so forlorn, yet so passionate.

Marcus drew his face in closer to Darius's, staring idly at his lips, and
rested his forehead against his. Slowly, their lips pushed towards each
other, and...

*Closes the Enchanter's Storybook, sternly* That was The Enchanter's
Storybook: Chapter Four. Thanks for reading, it truly means a lot to me.
Donate to Nifty. *Places Storybook onto the bookshelf, amidst the other
magical and enchanting tales kept up there with the dust and cobwebs*

Please remember: this email can be used for you to message me about ideas,
plot-lines, comments - anything you have to say, please email me. Even
questions, because I understand that the story may be somewhat complex to
some people.

Have an enchanting day, my pretty flowers. Love,

the Enchanter.