The Sorcerer's Mansion

By

Snore23



Mark stared at the tall house at the end of the long dirt track that led away from a rusty iron gate mounted in between two red brick columns. On the other side of the columns tall iron spikes sprouted like spears from the bare rock leading rapidly away in a barred wall four hundred paces on the left and two hundred paces on the right. There they connected to another red-brick column, each crowned with a snarling bronze wolf's head--faded green with age--and the side walls connected up to form a barrier between the outside world and the house inside. Through the bars he could see a dead brown lawn marched away from the fences to flowerbeds that were planted outside the house. The beds contained thick hedges behind a wall of thorny blackberries that formed a green moat surrounding the the building; the only entrance through that inner wall being the walkway to the front door.

The outer defenses were daunting, but the house seemed truly terrifying! It loomed up from the earth like the ruins of a medieval castle; dark and lonely. The tall windows were so dusty that nothing inside could be made out, and the thick stone walls seemed thick and forbidding, despite the obvious age of the mortar. It had one large turret in the exact middle of the house that contained the heavy oak door which was arched and had two brass door knobs set near the center. The house towered three full stories and held two wings on either side of the central turret. At the peak a tall rod could be seen adding perhaps four feet to the top of the house.

"I don't like this." Jane whispered to him for the hundredth time it seemed. "We should just go."

"No." Mark shook his head. "I took the dare, and I intend to make good on it. Got to, or I'll lose all respect in the school. You don't have to come, you know."

"Yes I do." She told him quickly. "I'm not going to let you go up there alone!"

"You don't believe those old stories, do you?" Mark asked her.

"No." She said very quickly. "Do you?" she asked after a moment of silence.

"Nope." Mark said with forced bravado. Inside his chest he could hear his heart hammering, and he dared not tell her how clammy his hands felt, or his sister would know how afraid he actually was.

He cursed his bad luck; how could he have been so stupid? He would have known that Bobby would set something like this up. He was the biggest braggart on the school yard, not to mention the biggest bully. He'd learned to walk carefully around Mark, but now he thought he'd done something that no one else could; he'd touched the handle of the town's haunted mansion and escaped to tell about it! And if Mark could do the same, why he'd eat his hat!

I hope he has plenty of ketchup! Mark thought viciously.

Springing silently from the rocks where he'd been hiding, he slithered through the iron bars of the gate; no mean feat despite some of the bars having rusted and fallen away. He vowed to get on the treadmill as soon as he could and get some extra weight off his stomach and butt.

He eyed his sister grumpily as her willowy frame slid through the gap with no effort. Together they ran up the path as quick as rabbits, keeping an eye out for any sign that someone would spot them. When no shouts came or lights fell on them, they breathed a sigh of relief as they passed the hedge and reached the door.

Mark laid his hand on the rough would planking of the door and turned to his sister with a relieved grin. Her matching grinned turned to a look of surprise and then to terror as the door they were against swung inward. Mark lunged to catch the door before it could hit the wall and succeeded only in accelerating it. It hit the wall with a crash!

Mark froze, one foot inside the house, listening intently for any sign that someone had heard. When it stayed quiet he breathed a soft sigh of relief. That was far too close! I've got to close this door and get out of here! That was his thought and he reached for the handle again, but was interrupted by a bright blue light.

He turned, his heart hammering in his chest to see a young girl standing in front of him with a look of surprise and horror on her pretty face. She had blond hair that ended around her back, a tiny nose on her smooth face, blue eyes that seemed to shine in the dim light (though that had to be a trick of his mind, he reasoned. Eyes don't glow). Her full lips were opening and closing rapidly as though speaking, but no sound came out. Movement from behind her caught his eye, and he realized he could see his sister's wide-eyed face through this new girl's face.

"Yaaah!" Mark screamed!

The ghost jumped back, hovering a foot in the air and making shushing motions at him.

"Who--who are you?" Jane gasped.

The ghost shook her head and pointed at the door. At that moment a yellow light came from above and started to descend the stairs that were just ahead of him and slightly to the left of the entrance, across another hallway that ran from one end of the house to the other. The ghost looked back, her eyes wide with fright, and rapidly motioned to the door before fading into invisibility.

Mark took his cue then and, grabbing his sister's hand, bolted outside. They ran hard down the pathway, their breath loud in their ears. The gate drew closer, seemingly within reach; Mark put out his hand to grab the bar, the small stones skittering under his feet as his sneakers dug into the gravel.

What felt like a line attached to his back yanked him backwards and he fell painfully. Scrabbling on the dark earth for purchase, he felt himself being drug slowly backwards. He looked beside him to see his sister in the same predicament, though no hand or line could be seen. Mark felt fear overwhelm him and he started to scream in pure terror! A shrieking mixed with his and he realized that his sister had opened her mouth to give voice to her fear.

They were drug back inside the hall despite their struggles and cries. The doors closed firmly behind them with a terrible finality, and Mark wondered how badly dying would hurt.

No, he thought to himself as shame filled him. I will not die, at least not yet. I don't know what's happening here, but I'm not just going to give up! He braced his arms against the rough would floor and with a grunt and burst of strength, pushed himself to his feet and spun to face the master of the hall.

The man that stood on the third step up seemed so tiny that Mark wondered at first if he was dealing with a child. The more he looked at the sorcerer's lined face and stern bearing the more he became convinced that he was dealing with a man, albeit shorter than any he'd met in his life. But it was the cold, cruel gray eyes that convinced him beyond a shadow of a doubt; no child could ever have matched such a look as the one he gave Mark.

"Who are you?" The man's voice was sharp and thin, a bit like a snake and matched him perfectly.

Mark drew himself up, determined not to show his fear. "Who am I? Well, who are you? This house is supposed to be deserted."

"That it is not." The man sneered. "A useful lie to keep the curious from my home. But who are you that do not listen to warnings to stay out? Tell me that."

He made a peculiar gesture with the fingers of his right hand; the middle finger curling back and twisting in a circle while the index finger pointed right at Mark. To his surprise, he heard himself say; "I'm Mark and this is my sister Jane. We're here on a dare to touch the handle of the door as Bobby said he did it last week."

The man nodded to himself as Mark shook his head, wondering what had happened. The man spoke again. "Your friend lied to you, no one's touched this door for years; I never allowed it. Now it looks like I'm going to have to deal with you two trespassers."

He tapped his chin thoughtfully as he stared down at them. Mark realized that if he was going to do anything to save them, he'd have to do it now. He thought about grabbing Jane and making a run for it, but knew that they wouldn't make it past the hedge this time before they were brought back. Something would have to distract the sorcerer if they would stand a chance of escaping.

The moment he thought this he knew he wouldn't make it out of the house alive; the only way to distract the sorcerer would be to fight him. He was sorry about that, he would have liked to live of course, but he'd gotten his sister into this and now he'd get her out.

"Run Jane!" He shouted as he lunged forward suddenly, catching the other two by surprise. He collided with the little man and together they tumbled as Mark commenced to hitting any part of his foe he could reach. He managed several blows before he felt a hit in his stomach that would have done credit to a car, he thought dazedly as he picked himself off the ground again.

The sorcerer was rising from the stairs with a maddened look in his eye, but of his sister Mark could see no sign. He smiled with relief as he stumbled forward, trying to come to grips again. Before he could take his third step a feeling not unlike ropes being wrapped tightly around him brought him up short. He looked wildly around but could see no sign of bonds around his arms or legs, but he was well and truly captured regardless.

"That ought to hold you." The sorcerer snarled. He stepped out his door and was gone. Mark had just enough time to wonder if he could wiggle his way out of sight under a table when he came back. Behind him floated the struggling form of his sister, twisting desperately and shouting wildly, though no noise came out. Mark groaned; he'd failed. The door closed once more, and this time the lock clicked shut, locking them in.

Setting Jane on the floor next to Mark, the sorcerer stepped back up the stairs again, trying to tower over them perhaps. Mark might have found it funny, if the situation wasn't so dire. The sorcerer dabbed at his split lip with the fold of his torn robes. His expression of mild distaste seemed at complete odds with the anger from before.

"That was unexpected, but a good try as far as it goes. I should have seen something like that before you tried it. Such mistakes in my business can prove fatal." He sounded annoyed with himself.

"What are you going to do with us?" Mark asked in despair, amazed that his voice still worked. Jane looked pleadingly up at the sorcerer and stopped struggling.

The sorcerer frowned. "You entered my home, so I can't let you go of course. Nor will I let you get away with your assault on me, but I'm impressed with your courage so I won't kill you straightaway."

Mark and Jane trembled with the thought of what this man could do with them without killing them. Torture, perhaps.

The sorcerer smiled slowly, guessing what they were thinking. "I guess we'll get to know each other very well. Very well indeed."

#

He took them below to the cellar. Entering a large stone chamber, he gestured and two long wooden tables quivered, then ran to the center of the room from the walls where they'd been standing. Mark watched with a detached amazement as he floated over to one of them and stretched gently upon it. He couldn't move or speak, so he contented himself with watching and waiting for his next opportunity. His sister Jane was laid on the table next to him and in his line of sight, he noted with some relief. He watched her scared face and tried to smile encouragement, but the fear in his heart left him unable to do so. The most he could offer; a silent promise that he would get her out of this.

There came a noise, like the opening of some old dusty book that refused to lay flat from so many years on a shelf. There was some muttering and grunting, then the sounds of many pages being turned. Mark couldn't see the sorcerer, so couldn't see if his guess was true or not, but he thought it would be.

Following a moment of silence, there came, in rapid succession, the sounds of hurrying feet, the clink of glass on glass, water being poured and a small fire being lit. Then nothing for a long while.

The minutes dragged on interminably, and Mark found himself wishing that the sorcerer would hurry it up, or someone would shout "surprise!" and he would find it had all been one big joke. Nothing like that ever happened, and the sorcerer kept on working.

Without warning, the sorcerer appeared above Jane, who started to struggle and squeal in terror. The sorcerer ignored her efforts, grabbing her nose and pouring the contents of a vial into her mouth. The green liquid filled her mouth full to overflowing, and the sorcerer slammed her jaws closed with his free hand while keeping a grip on her nose with his other hand.

Faced with no other choice, Jane swallowed the stuff. When the gray-eyed sorcerer was satisfied that she had, he stepped back and released her restraints.

Jane immediately rolled off the table, twisting in apparent agony as she landed with a thump outside of Mark's sight. He struggled to get a look down, grunting with effort as his body failed to respond.

A powerful grip on the end of his nose blocked off his ability to breathe and pulled his mouth open. Mark tried to scream in pain, but a foul-tasting liquid splashed in, choking him. With a gargle and gulp, he swallowed. Immediately his bonds were gone and he could move freely. He sprang up, ready to fight or check on his sister, but a feeling not unlike spiders crawling in his stomach hit him and he doubled over, falling off the table and rolling on the floor. There came a sensation of being picked up and cradled tenderly, and of hot tears falling on his face but Mark barely noticed; his sole attention was in the itching sensation spreading throughout his body, like someone had doused his clothes in itching powder.

How long the sensations lasted, Mark couldn't say. They may have lasted seconds or they might have lasted years, time held no meaning for him then. It wasn't painful at all, he remembered later; highly disturbing and uncomfortable yes, but not actually painful. When he at last mastered himself again, he stood up and gazed around himself to see what had happened and wanted to panic all over again.

His sister had been the one holding him and had put him down when he had gotten too heavy to hold. Her tear-streaked face held most of its human features, but there was an added element at the top of her head; two horse ears, colored in a deep, glossy chestnut. She clutched the tattered rags of her clothing to her bosom, showing her pale white skin streaked with dirt from the floor of the dungeon. However, where her hips and long legs should be, there was the start of a horse's body! Four legs, deep barrel chest and massive butt were all there covered in deep brown. Only her hair, transitioning into a small mane that stuck out from her back to her second shoulders, and her tail remained black.

"Jane." Mark said, too stunned to think of anything else to say.

"I know, Mark. You too." Jane whispered, pointing.

Mark looked down and saw that he'd been turned into a matching centaur alongside his sister. The only difference between them, besides the obvious maleness and slightly thicker body of Mark, was that his tail and mane were brown instead of black. He suspected his hair stayed the same as well, which might account for the difference.

"That's settled, except for one last thing." The sorcerer's cruel voice cut into Mark's inspection of himself. He fell to the ground feeling as if all the muscles in his body had given up all at once; a heavy thud next to him confirmed that his sister had obviously experienced the same thing.

Unable to move, Mark could only watch as the sorcerer approached and secured around his neck, a heavy leather collar similar to a dog's collar. Another went around Jane's neck and Mark could see that the only way to open it was a thick steel lock that the sorcerer secured with an old-fashioned key that contained intricate wards on the barrel and a curious horse-head at the stock.

Feeling returned to Mark's limbs again, and he stood up shakily. Anger surged in him and he glared down at the sorcerer.

"Turn us back!" he demanded, reaching for the sorcerer to shake sense into him and to emphasize his point. But his fingers never reached the robes; instead it felt as if a solid wall existed between the sorcerer and him, one from which he could find no purchase.

"Back." The sorcerer said calmly. To Mark's astonishment, he instantly obeyed.

"The collars have turned you into my servants." He told them.

"Your slaves, you mean." Jane snapped, tears streaming down her face.

"Very well, if you wish to look on yourselves as such, then feel free to do so, it matters little to me in the end. You will not leave these grounds under any circumstances unless I give explicit orders and am with you. You shall not strike, hurt or otherwise attempt to harm me in any way, and you will not contact the outside world in any manner, method or attempt, do you understand?"

"Yes master." They said at the same moment.

"Good. You may go, there are servant's quarters in the west wing of the house," he pointed right, "that you may find comfortable. Those will be your new homes. Clothes may be furnished too you, if you prove yourselves to me, otherwise..." he yanked Jane's rags away, leaving her to cover herself with her hands as best she could. "There will be nothing. You are property now, and the sooner you understand that, the better. Now begone! You've interrupted me in an important experiment, and I have no further time for you. Go to your rooms and stay there until I call you."

#

Mark paced their room, unable to settle anything in his mind or heart. They'd opted to stay together rather than be split apart, neither wanting to be even a moment alone, especially Jane. Mark feared what would happen to her unless he could get her something to cover herself with, even if she hadn't developed much yet (she'd only been fourteen after all, to his fifteen). Now she was sobbing, lying on the floor with her legs sticking out like a fallen steer, unwilling to get up or to move.

Mark just didn't know what to do anymore. He tried to leave, of course, but the magic of the collars kept him from doing so. Every time he reached for the door handle, he found it blocked and a million excuses not to leapt to mind. Even if he forced himself closer, he couldn't touch it and the excuses dissolved into a command not to touch the door. After several attempts, he'd given up and just paced back and forth in their room.

Had he been human, he might have found it spacious, but that would be because it was wholly devoid of any form of comfort besides a thick plush carpet colored red. He could go exactly six steps lengthwise before he'd had to turn around, which was a difficult process, or four width wise, except Jane blocked most of the far side of the room.

A stifled sob attracted his attention, and Mark stopped pacing and dropped to his knees in behind Jane, a rather surprising feeling with his butt still in the air. He quickly dropped all the way to the floor and placed his hand on her shoulder.

"I promise you Jane, I'll get you free." Mark told her.

"How?" she sobbed. "Mark, he's got us six ways from Sunday, and probably more! There's nothing...it's hopeless." She subsided.

"Nothing’s hopeless." Mark told her fiercely. "I will see you free again Jane, no matter the cost."

She abruptly twisted her upper body in the most amazing contortion that Mark had ever seen, grabbing his arms and looking into his eyes. "Mark, don't do anything stupid, please." She begged him desperately. "I don't want to lose you." She pulled him close. "Don't leave me alone." She whispered.

Mark enfolded her in a hug. "I won't sis." He told her aloud. Inwardly, he promised himself that he would die, if that would be what it took to kill the sorcerer and set her free again. He loved her and would not see her the slave of that jerk no matter what!

A blue glow interrupted them and they released their grip and turned to see the ghost girl from before, looking shy and uncertainly down on them.

"Who are you?" Mark asked quietly, coming to his feet.

The girl shook her head, pointed at her mouth and opened and shut it silently, a look of frustration crossing her fair features.

Mark frowned, then brightened. "Oh, I get it, you can't talk, can you?"

The girl shook her head.

"Okay, well then, how long have you been here then?" he asked.

The girl shrugged hopelessly and shook her head. She didn't know how long she'd been there, but she'd been there a very long time.

They spent several trying hours talking with her and got the idea that she wanted to help them, but couldn't do much as she was unable to leave the house or get a message out. She would do what she could for them and show them the secret ways of the mansion. She could provide warning that would tell them whenever the sorcerer was about, so they could avoid him after a fashion, remaining unseen for days at a time, unless he specifically called for them.

At one point she brightened and vanished with a pop. Mark and Jane looked at each other startled, but had hardly moved before their friend was back, holding victoriously up in the air a small golden brush that she gave to Jane and mimed brushing her hair.

"For me?" Jane asked solemnly.

At the ghost's nod she smiled hugely. "Thank you Blue!"

Both Mark and the ghost looked startled. "Blue?" he asked, looking at his sister. The ghost looked curious as well.

"Well of course! She is blue after all, and we shouldn't keep calling her ghost, she's our friend after all!" Jane laughed merrily. Mark felt nonplussed but the ghost trembled, a tear leaking at the corner of her eye. Abruptly she hurled herself at Jane, a silent sob tearing at her as she hit the surprised centaur and passed through. When both had realized what had happened, they giggled as Jane plucked frost from her eyebrows.

"Dang, Blue! You sure are cold." She laughed.

"All right," Mark grinned, "Blue it is. We'll help her get out of here as well." He promised.