Linhart stood at the bottom of a smooth circular chimney, which must run all the way up the center of the Mage's Spire. He looked over at Maeve. She was studying him with an unreadable look on her face. What a stubborn girl she was, following him all the way here and sticking with him, refusing to leave! He was glad that she had joined him.
He doubted that she could protect him from Celes' magic, but having a strong Fighter there with him, and not having to enter her room by himself, gave him a feeling of reassurance. Together, they began a meticulous search of the walls and floor.
It was clear that the mages lived up there, somewhere far above their heads, but how did they navigate the shaft? Linhart was starting to lose hope when he heard a stern voice speak from nearby.
“What’s going on here?”
He spun around to see a mage confronting Maeve, who had been examining the archway entrance.
“What are you doing lousing around the landing pad, Fighter? Are you trying to break in?”
The girl had long, stringy red hair, and bore a remarkable resemblance to Maeve herself. Though the mage was several inches taller, their faces and noses were similar enough that they could’ve been cousins.
Her pale body was hardly concealed by the nearly see-through robe that she wore. It showed a cloudy outline of a skimpy pair of panties and tiny breasts. Her body was thin as a rail, but she carried herself with a feminine vibe that turned Linhart on.
She was a girly girl.
Looking her over, he felt an ache of familiarity, like home-sickness. Linhart realized he’d missed seeing girls who acted like this. All of the Fighters carried themselves like boys, always showing off their muscles and ready for a fight. Mages were more like the girls of his old world, with pretty gestures and limbs that were soft and elegant. Though they were certainly still dangerous, the mages’ weapons were their words and spells.
“No, we’re not breaking in,” Maeve replied, baring her teeth angrily. “We’re here to visit a mage.”
“We?...” the tall girl asked, and just then noticed Linhart’s presence. “Oh, hello!”
Linhart fought the urge to hide, as the thin girl's gaze landed on him, and her tiny mouth curved into a smile. She turned as though Maeve no longer existed, and approached him. Her eyes were huge, with irises that were tinted red. “What’s a pretty boy like you doing with a farm-girl like her?”
“Farm-girl?” Maeve snapped back, livid, “I'm a Senior member of the Fighter class. This boy is a Fighter, too, and he’s in my care. Talk to me!”
The mage looked back, glancing up and down, taking in all of Maeve’s lean but busty body. Then, scoffing, she turned once more to Linhart.
“This girl doesn’t even know how to enter the Spire, little Fighter boy. Why don't you come with me and I'll show you around.”
If the mage was trying to enrage Maeve, she was doing a great job. From where he stood, Linhart could see her face turning red with anger and her legs were tense, ready to strike. The mage, facing away from her, didn't sense a thing.
“Don’t turn your back on me, bitch!” Maeve bellowed. Her foot came up and she stepped into a straight front kick. The bottom of her foot connected with the mage's ass, sending her flying forward.
Unfortunately, Linhart was standing right in the path of her fall. Unable to get out of the way in time, he was knocked to the floor with this girl sprawled out on top of him.
“Uughh… Senior Maeve, you’re not going to Fight every mage we meet, are you?” he groaned. Without thinking, his hands came up to grasp her narrow waist. Was she okay? The girl didn’t move, seemingly frozen in shock. She'd probably never been kicked before.
She was feather-light, but her full weight was pressing down on him and her eyes were squeezed shut. He couldn’t help but note how her thin body felt cool to the touch. He tried to slide out from under her, but her legs were on either side of his, and he couldn’t budge.
“Miss Mage, are you okay?”
Somehow, her crotch had landed right on his. Linhart sincerely hoped she didn't notice the bulge that was swelling in his pants.
Her eyes popped open, and Linhart felt the buzz of a spell being cast on him, as the girl's hands came alive, she was pulling at his uniform. “Yes, I’m fiiine…” she purred, “Your hard body stopped my fall. Stay still for a moment, while I scan your figure. It’s just right for a pillow that...”
Her words cut off in a strangled shriek, as her head was wrenched back. Maeve was right there on top, kneeling with a deadly look on her face.
“You cast a spell on him and it’s the last thing you’ll ever do!” she threatened. Her knee pressed into the girl's back, pinning her body to his. As she was pulling her hair backward, Maeve’s other hand found its way to her windpipe. The mage’s spine was bent at a painful angle and her arms were moving frantically.
“I stopped… I stopped!” she rasped. The hand at her throat was applying pressure, but apparently not enough to strangle her. At least Maeve was holding back a little.
Linhart was still stuck, now with the weight of both girls pushing down on him. Watching the struggle, he couldn’t help but notice the mage’s robe had slipped down so far that her chest was on full display. Her skin was perfectly smooth, unblemished like a blank canvas, except for the ribs showing and the slight rise of her boobs, which were poking out so her tiny pink nipples were on display.
“She stopped casting, Senior.” Linhart declared. “Please let us up, I’m getting crushed here.”
Maeve, just now realizing that she was pushing him down as well, stood up and hauled the mage up off of him.
“Sorry, Freshman.” she muttered an apology.
“Now tell us…” she gave the mage a shove that was hard enough to make her stumble away, and she demanded, “How do we get up there?”
The mage glared, then fixing her robe, she articulated, “It’s so simple, even a cow-tits like you should be able to figure it out.”
Maeve stiffened and Linhart half-expected her to attack once again. Why did she hate being called ‘cow-tits’ so much? It seemed like a suitable description of her breasts, to him. The mage was still talking though.
“First, the mage needs to ask you over. Visiting without first being invited is not only impossible, it’s rude. For example, I invite you to visit my quarters in the Mage’s Spire.”
She gestured, pointing at Linhart. Then looked back at Maeve and added, “I am not inviting you, so don’t think you can join him.”
“So, we need to be invited, but how do we get up there?” Maeve pointed up, impatiently.
“That’s also simple. Every room has a unique passcode. Most mages keep theirs a secret, but I’m willing to share mine with you,” she said agreeably, her eyes darting back to Linhart. “It’s Mandrake.”
The moment the word left her lips, a gust of wind hit her. The loose parts of her robes billowed out and her feet left the ground. It looked almost like she was freefalling through the air, but the wind prevented her from hitting the floor.
“You have to say the passcode nice and loud if you want to reach the room safely. Oh, and it’s impolite to stand here listening in to others’ passcodes, so you’d better not linger by the landing pad. Remember, boy, you can practice with my passcode… you are invited. That word again is… MANDRAKE!”
The final word echoes up through the shaft. The wind came down the walls from the heights, buffeting Linhart to the floor. At the same time, it ran back up in a cyclical manner, shooting the mage upwards like a projectile. She was out of sight in the passing of a moment and the wind completely disappeared in another moment.
Maeve had also been knocked to the floor by the air pressure. As she got to her feet, she shouted, “Don’t you dare say that passcode!”
“I wasn’t planning on it, Senior Maeve,” Linhart replied. There’s no telling what kind of trap the mage would have waiting for him if he followed her to her room. “I have another passcode that I was given… Phoenix."
The mere muttering of the word was enough to invoke the wind, and like the mage, Linhart felt his feet leave the floor, as he was blown a foot off the ground. Maeve cried out and dove for him, her arms wrapped around his legs, but even her strength pulling down on him couldn’t bring his feet back to the ground.
“Don’t say it again,” she commanded, her arms looping together around his hips and her cheek pressed between his legs. “Wait for it to pass.”
It was a long while that he hovered there, with Maeve wrapped around his most intimate places. Then the wind stopped on its own and the two of them hit the ground. Maeve was left to embarrassingly untangle herself.
She cleared her throat. Her cheeks were crimson red, and she touched the spot on her face that had been pressed against his dick. In a low voice, she said, “Let me try it first, all right?”
Linhart agreed, and he stepped out into the passageway as Maeve centered herself in the shaft and shouted in a loud voice, “PHOENIX!”
Nothing happened.
“Shit! It looks like you really do need an invite to get up there.”
“Well, I can go and visit the Stratega by myself I guess.” Linhart said reluctantly. It was obvious he was meant to go alone. “I can tell her that if she doesn’t let me go by midnight, that you’ll report me missing to the Fighter class. Can you wait for me here that long?”
“Nuh uh,” she said gruffly, as she shook her head. “I’m not waiting for you. I’m going up with you. Come over here.”
Linhart didn’t know what he expected, but he was completely caught off guard when Maeve pulled her tank top upward, her huge tits tumbling out in all their glory, saying, “Get in!”
“What?”
“Come on! If we’re pressed chest to chest, the spell should work on both of us, shouldn’t it?”
“But your shirt… it’s already pretty tight. I don’t think I can fit in there,” Linhart responded carefully. He was watching her tits bounce as Maeve held her stretchy shirt up with both her arms.
She argued with a hint of desperation, “You’re a thin boy, you can fit! Plus, you’re still wearing a shirt, so you won’t even feel my tits against you. Come on!”
“Very well,” Linhart replied with more reluctance than he was feeling. This was turning into an exciting experiment for him.
Maeve was a bit shorter than he was, so he had to duck down to squeeze into her tank top. The material was strong and it didn’t rip as he forced his head through the same neck-hole that she was using, his cheek caressed her boobs.
“You’ve got to stand so your whole body is against me.”
Maeve’s head and his were side by side, and as she spoke the words whispered directly into his ear, driving him crazy. The feeling of her chest swelling against his and spilling out the sides, as their legs and hips joined together was too stimulating. His dick was swelling once again, and the length of it was pushing between her legs and rubbing against her crotch. Linhart’s brain clouded over with lust.
“Stay with me, freshman,” Maeve ordered hoarsely. He could hear the excitement in her voice, and her arms were roaming over his back. “I think I need to get under your clothes too. The more contact we have the better.”
“Okay, Senior,” he murmured, burrowing his mouth into the red hair, he whispered directly into her ear. “I trust you, do whatever you think is best.”
“Oh Gods, this is the best moment of my life…” Maeve said, probably to herself though he overheard.
Her hands plunged into the seat of his pants, finding their way under his underwear as well, and she was clasping his buttcheeks in her firm, hot hands.
“Say it, Linhart!”
Linhart took a deep breath. His own hands were wrapped around her lean torso. He could stay like this forever, but he had an appointment to keep…
“PHOENIX!”
The two figures, pressed as close as lovers, shot into the air like a bullet through the barrel of a gun.
