Moira threw down a blue silk dress in disgust. “Useless,” she growled. “Not so much as a speck of magic.” So far, Azelea had failed utterly to live up to its reputation. The dark mage had searched through half a dozen homes and storehouses in the glorious elven city, and gotten nothing worth mentioning apart from a splinter in her thumb and a jade comb that possessed no occult qualities whatsoever, even though it did complement her hair rather nicely. Moira thought her luck had changed when she stumbled across this high-end clothing store, but so far all of the wares had been disappointingly mundane. She strolled down the aisles, reaching out with her arcane senses as she went. “Gods, is there anything in this blasted city worth stealing?”
Looking at one of the ornate, floor-length mirrors scattered around the store, Moira spotted movement. She turned just in time to see an elf slip out of a hidden alcove and lunge toward her, a small dagger in hand. The elf was tall and slender, like Moira herself, but appeared to be in her late teens, twenty at most. Her verdant green eyes were narrowed in focus, her slim mouth set in a grim line. The elf wore a white blouse and blue skirt, suggesting she was an employee or assistant rather than a customer. The simple clothing was offset by her sleek red hair and luscious pale skin dotted with freckles.
Although Moira dodged, she wasn’t quite quick enough to avoid the elf’s stab entirely. Moira gritted her teeth against the pain as the dagger opened a long, shallow gash across her arm. Before the elf could recover and launch another strike, Moira grabbed a handful of hair and hurled her back against the wall, tearing out a few scarlet strands in the process. One of Moira’s hands seized the elf’s dagger-hand by the wrist and pinned it against the wall, while the other grabbed the young woman by the throat.
In spite of herself, Moira smiled, her face inches away from the redhead who choked and gasped for breath. “Well, aren’t you a brave little tailor? Did you think you were going to slay the evil witch all by your lonesome?” Moira rubbed her face against the elf’s soft cheek and gave it a quick peck. “Not this time, I’m afraid,” Moira murmured, before pressing her lips forcefully over the elf’s.
As their lips broke apart, Moira began to drain the life out of the elf. Soft, greenish tendrils of energy flowed up and out of the young woman’s mouth and into Moira’s. The dagger tumbled from the elf’s nerveless fingers as Moira wrapped both hands around her throat. The wound on Moira’s arm healed quickly, the flesh knitting itself back together while the color drained out of the elf’s skin and her struggles weakened. The elf’s eyes rolled up and slowly closed, while one arm fell limp. Just when it seemed as if the elf had no more left to give, Moira released her. The pale redhead slumped to the floor, chest heaving, while Moira casually picked up the dagger—silver with a pearl handle, very fancy. Moira knelt down and seized the elf by the back of the neck. She lifted her head up and waited until the young woman’s brilliant emerald eyes reopened and slowly focused on her. “What’s your name, girl?” Moira asked.
“G-ginevra,” the elf panted breathlessly. Moira smiled down at her.
“Well, little Ginny, I’ve had a long, unpleasant day, and you’ve managed to catch me in a very foul mood. Now—” Moira pressed the blade of the dagger against the elf’s skin, just beneath her ear. “If I were feeling more generous, I would slit your throat right here and be done with it. Instead, I think I’ll have some fun with you first… although who knows? Maybe by the time I’m finished, you’ll have grown to like it.”
Instead of replying, the elf simply passed out. Moira let her go and slipped the dagger into her pocket as she turned to the small opening Ginevra had emerged from. The door had no knob or hinges, and would be all but invisible against the rest of the wall when closed. Moira passed through the doorway and into the hidden room beyond.
Within were rows of elegant, velvet-lined shelves, upon which rested dozens of small wooden… well, Moira supposed “boxes” was the correct word, although they looked nothing like any kind of boxes that Moira had ever seen. Each box had rounded edges and, at first glance, possessed no markings or mechanisms of any kind; no hinges, no lids, keyholes, knobs, buttons… no evidence whatsoever that the boxes were designed to be opened at all. Moira inspected one closely, and could just barely discern a narrow slit that bisected the box down the middle.
At last, Moira thought. She gave the box an experimental rap. It produced a hollow-sounding knock, which excited her further, but nothing else transpired. There was nothing overtly threatening or magical about the little wooden cubes, but Moira’s intuition warned her it would be unwise to attempt to open one by force. “Okay, so how does this work?” Moira wondered aloud. “Is there some kind of trick to it?” She paced around the room as she pondered, tapping the lids of the boxes randomly. “Eenie, Meenie, Miney—”
As Moira’s fingers came into contact with one of the boxes—back wall, shelf four, column two—a spark of dark magic snapped at them, like static electricity. The spark mingled with her innate power; checking for compatibility, Moira realized. A heartbeat later, the spark sank back into the wood, and with a quiet click, the box opened, both halves of the lid sliding apart. “Oh,” Moira muttered. “How clever. Not terribly secure, but I bet the customers get a kick out of it.”
Inside the box lay a jet-black shawl. Carefully, Moira drew it out and inspected it closely. The shawl was made from silk, but not the kind made from silkworms, like the dress Moira had rejected earlier. It was rougher, stronger, tougher… spider silk, Moira realized. In addition, the black cloth was embroidered with detailed images of black widow spiders. Each one was decorated with a small ruby cut into the iconic hourglass shape. Unnervingly, the spiders appeared to scurry across the surface of the garment constantly, only growing still when Moira focused on one in particular.
After examining the shawl thoroughly with her arcane senses, Moira determined it was safe to put on. With only a slight feeling of trepidation, she wrapped the black silk garment around her shoulders. Moira grinned as she felt the dark power coursing through her. “Excellent. Now, what shall I do with pretty Ginny over there…”
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When Moira stepped out of the clothing store in her new black shawl, she held one end of a leather leash in her hand. She turned back to the doorway. “Hurry up now, pet. It isn’t wise to keep mistress waiting.” Moira gently pulled the leash taunt, and then gave it a sharp tug.
Ginevra stumbled out into the street. The other end of the leash was attached to a leather collar wrapped around her throat. The scarlet-haired elf was naked and blindfolded, her wrists tied tightly behind her back. After stripping her, Moira had torn a black silk dress into strips and used the strips to blind and bind her new slave. Moira allowed the elf to fall flat on her face in the dirt, then raised the leash high and wound it around her wrist. The collar tightened like a noose around Ginevra’s throat, choking her until the elf managed to get her feet under her again. As she stood, Moira cupped one of the redhead’s bare breasts in her hand and grabbed the back of her neck with the other. Moira smiled. “Good. I must admit, I adore this side of you Ginny. The way the leather digs into your skin is just…” Moira stroked slow circles around the young elf’s stiffening nipple with the edge of her thumb, and then sank her nails into the flesh of Ginevra’s breast, drawing a pained gasp from her mouth. “…Intoxicating.” Without warning, Moira spun on her heel and set out at a brisk pace toward Toxin’s main forces, dragging Ginevra along behind her as she went.
(Moira has acquired the Spider Silk Shawl, which increases her defense and grants her the “Cocoon” spell. “Cocoon” surrounds the target in a shield of dark energy)
