Amya looked into her magic mirror with interest. The elf – Brian? – was becoming quite vicious. In the future, he might make an interesting ally, although she would of course have to be very careful that he wasn’t wearing any rings if she slept with him. The Knight was a different matter.
Amya was what is generally called an “evil sorceress.” She was Beautiful, Powerful, and quite Mad. She hadn’t always been that way, of course. At one time she had been quite plain, quite ordinary, and quite sane. But desiring beauty, she had sought power, and the process of obtaining that power had unbalanced her slightly.
The Knight, Sir Roland, had interfered with her plans on several occasions. Always riding to the rescue, to defeat her minions. Always rescuing those she kidnapped, and retrieving things she had stolen. She had never faced him personally, but she had still raged at him when he thwarted her. Now he was weak, and powerless. But Amya didn’t just see her enemy vanquished – she also saw an opportunity.
She swept about her chamber, which was round, since it took up an entire floor in a round tower, and filled with fine carpets, luscious silks, rich furnishings, and all manner of mystic odds and ends. The tower was quite remote, high in the mountains, where few dared come. A pair of orc guards stood by the door, wearing nothing but loincloths and large, curved swords that were strapped to their backs. She had chosen them for their size, and relative intelligence. They were smart enough to realize that she was more powerful than them, and big enough to be interesting in bed. Amya snapped her fingers, and the pair of burly orc guards rushed to her side. “Bring me my wardrobe!” she commanded, in an imperious tone.
The orcs rushed to the large wardrobe that stood against one wall, and grasped the side handles firmly. With matching grunts, they lifted it, and carried it to where Amya stood, in the center of the room, their thick arms and shoulders bulging with effort. They set the wardrobe down, and opened the doors. She held out her arms, and let them undress her. She smiled at the sight of their rising erections, which tented their loincloths. She had sought magical power to make herself beautiful, and loved those little reminders of how well it had worked. Another time, she might have played with them a bit, but not today. Fully nude, she perused the contents of the wardrobe, before finally selecting a rich blue silk dress that was shapely enough to show off her chest and hips, without showing too much skin. Sir Roland would have to be handled carefully, after all. She could entice him, but couldn’t be too blatant about it – Knights might bang everything that moved in private, but in public they were often quite prissy about such things, Amya thought.
She pointed to the blue dress. Her guards pulled it out of the wardrobe, and carefully put it on her body. When it was on, she snapped her fingers, and they closed the wardrobe, and once again carried it to its space next to the wall. Amya herself turned, and went to a carved table on the other side of the room, upon which stood a mirror and a large box. She opened the box and selected several pieces of magic jewelry, which of course matched her dress. Sapphire earrings, which gave her supernatural hearing. A silver necklace, which protected her from others’ spells. Several gold rings, which had a number of powers between them. A magic dagger, thin and delicate, strapped to the inside of her shin. Several wands, each with different destructive abilities. And finally, a dark hooded cloak, which would allow her to turn invisible. Along with her own repertoire of spells and tricks, she was ready for just about anything.
She strode over to her large mirror on one wall, and admired her reflection. Turning to her guards, she gave them brief orders to leave the room, and not enter until she called for them. Then, she uttered words of arcane power, and the mirror shimmered briefly, and then no longer reflected. Rather, it showed the inside of the Knight’s house, and it showed the Knight as he lay on his bed, curled up in a ball, naked, skinny, and pathetic. With a smile, Amya the evil sorceress stepped through the mirror on her wall, and into Sir Roland’s bedroom.