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THE 7th NIGHT
by Dagmnar Dayne and Jason Bradan
She moved through the forest in liberal silence, as though she were one with it,
stepping lightly and erratically. Cloaked and hooded in dark green, she was all but
invisible. Ancient twisted cypress, more immense than any she'd ever seen,
loomed overhead to dizzying heights. The air was fresh and earthy, though little
wind and only dappled light filtered through to the floor. Morning dew glistened on
fallen leaves, studding them with moist gems.
Soft leather boots paused, for all motion and sound in the forest was suspended,
as if holding its breath.....waiting. She peered out from beneath her hood
expectantly, scanning every direction. She let her breath out slowly. Instinctively,
her hand went to the dagger at her hip. It seemed only to be a quiet forest, but
......it was entirely too quiet. Even the subtle breeze had ceased. She stood there
motionless, brows furrowed, breathing as shallow as possible for many long
moments. The forest waited with her.
At length, she relaxed her muscles, took a deep breath, and pushed the hood
back. Honey-gold locks spilled out over her shoulders, uncurling to her hips.
Again and again she scanned the terrain in every direction, obsessed with finding
the meager detail she'd missed. This forest was closed to her, as none had ever
been before. She was a child of the Elven, a creature of the Great Mother, and
ever a sister to the ways of the woods. Foreign forests would often whisper their
darkest secrets to Relendil's keen ears, showing her ways that would escape
another. Here, clearly, she was the interloper. This forest would divulge nothing to
her.
So why had she been summoned? For that matter, who summoned her? There
didn't appear to be anyone within miles. Frustrated and exhausted from combing
the forest all morning, she removed her cloak and spread it on the ground at the
base of a huge tree. Beneath, she wore only a snug leather tunic coming to mid-
thigh, clasped at the waist with a silver leaf. She lowered herself onto her cloak
and leaned back against the trunk, finding the gnarled bark to be strangely
yielding. She would wait. The silence was absolute. She might have enjoyed the
rest, had the air not been full of contingency.
They waited until she dozed before the whisper of a call escaped their boughs.
He heard, miles away in his Spartan abode, cocking an ear to receive the full
message: an alien presence that speaks the words of the wood. His brethren
remained silent to her...but could not stay silent forever. Her pleas were quite
urgent. A small, thoughtful smile escaped his usually blank face. At last. The time
of the Cycles could begin in earnest.
The Knight opened his arms. Foliage, limbs and vines swallowed his essence,
drawing him through hundreds of miles of trunks, root systems and leaves before
depositing him. He found himself beside a small, gently sleeping form. Another
small smile escaped him as he knelt beside her; the tales had been true...the
Elven were more beautiful than he had imagined. He shook his head. There was
no time for this frivolous thinking.
It was time for the Game to begin.
High above, a lone raven observed with keen interest.
A small cry escaped her lips as she felt her hair being gently tugged. She thought,
at first, she was only tangled against the bark, but she was being inexplicably
drawn backwards. The rough bark became soft and spongy, the grain of the
wood, warm and living tissue. She cried out in earnest, but the sound was
swallowed as the tree inhaled her, cloak and all. All light and sound were
instantly suspended. The feeling of weightlessness overcame her, and her
remaining senses vanished.
It was late when she awoke... the storm's crackling lightning and rumbling thunder
shaking her into awareness. A single candle lit the cottage; archaic wood
furnished it. Fire leapt in the hearth, burning with a pleasant spiciness. She was
lying on a bed of straw and covered with her cloak. She blinked as she sat up,
confused by her surroundings. She looked around, trying to determine where she
was, and in who's home.
He wasn't visible at first, standing in the shadows gazing out upon the lightning
playing tag with the clouds. A smile of satisfaction pursed his lips as he observed
his subjects taking nourishment. He wore only a loin-kilt of leather. She hoped
that he would sense her movement and offer some explanation of her
whereabouts, but he did not.
"Where am I?" She asked when her quiet patience expired.
"In my home." He answered nonchalantly, without turning to face her.
"And you are?"
"I am the Knight of the Forest, a Dweller in Shadows, and brother to the Raven."
She could sense the evasion in his voice. "Why did you bring me here?" She
asked quietly, after a long pause.
He turned away from her further still, and made to leave.
"You are safe here, my lady." He assured her.
"Wait! Don't go. Stay, please."
He paused, for only a moment. "I don't think my ...appearance... would please
you." He added quietly.
Before she could catch up to him, he had reached the very center of the cottage.
The floor opened to swallow him and closed just as quickly.
She stood there, stunned, staring at the space where he had been only seconds
before. The floor showed no evidence of an opening. Indeed, there appeared to
be no entrances anywhere in the cottage, just the round apertures in the walls
draped with ivy. Plenty large enough for her to crawl through, she thought, eyeing
the openings assessively. Perhaps daylight would provide a more promising
picture.
Not feeling particularly threatened in any way, she relaxed and began to explore
her surroundings. The cottage was small but very comfortable. The ancient wood
was ornately carved, and cushioned with plush pillows of burgundy, gold, and
deep blue. The spicy aroma of fresh herbs filled the dwelling; pots of feather fern,
savory, hazel, and sage were placed sporadically. Braided reed mats warmed the
cool wood floors. Tapestries embroidered with wood nymphs adorned the walls. It
might have been an Elven home.
She started to a noise behind her, and whirled around, half-expecting to see him
emerge through the floor. She saw nothing at first. Movement drew her attention
to the table. A raven was perched there, regarding her with cocked head. In his
beak was a single moss rose, as gold as her hair. She smiled slightly.
"A gift from your master?" She asked the raven, not expecting an answer.
He dropped the rose into her hand. "I am my own master." He answered
succinctly. "I've come to see if you want for anything, m'lady."
"What shall I call you?" She asked.
"Raven will do." He answered, preening his ebony silk feathers.
"Well Raven, I want for nothing, save answers. Where am I? And more important,
why was I brought here?"
He cocked his head again, suspending his preening for the moment. "You have
duties to perform here." He said it as though it had been told to her 100 times
before, as if it was something she should well know. "You are a guest of the
Knight, the Ka'le." He added. He fluffed his feathers out, sending the loose ones
flying, and then smoothed them again. His voice lost its formal edge.
"My lady, get yourself a cup of wine, and I will answer what I can."
He lighted on her shoulder and directed her to the wine and cups. She shrugged
and complied. As she poured, she thought about what the Raven had said: Ka'le
was one word she recognized from the summons. Perhaps she was in the right
place, after all. She seated herself comfortably on the pillows with her wine,
regarding the Raven intently.
She raised her brows. "Why did the host not stay?"
His small ebony head wagged from side to side. "My lady, I don't profess to know
the mind of my brother."
"I am an Elven Enchantress." She told him levelly. "Why was this forest closed to
me?"
He lifted his wings in a feathered shrug. "I don't know, my lady."
Disgusted, she muttered, "This is going nowhere fast."
"Not if you ask the right questions." He offered.
"I don't understand, Raven."
His head cocked to one side. "Of course, you do. You must."
She frowned, shaking her head.
Without any further notice, he departed through the window he had entered. He
sought out the Knight, and lighted upon his shoulder.
"My brother, she is baffled. She doesn't understand." The raven implored.
The Knight nodded. "Did you use the word, 'Ka'le'?" He inquired.
"Yes, my Lord, of course."
He smiled, amused. "She knows, Raven. It's part of the Game. She is
Enchantress, I am Ka'le. We are bound by oath to serve each other. It has always
been. She knows."
Alone in the cottage, she did partake of the offered wine, finding it's flavor to be
particularly pleasant. The combination of the wine, the storm raging overhead,
and the spicy aroma of the fire served to hypnotize her. Her mind drifted
aimlessly, lighting no place for long. She found herself with one of the neatly
bound books in her hand. And though she knew not the language, for it was not
in common tongue, she seemed to understand the gist, nonetheless. She drifted
off to sleep with the volume cradled in her arms.
Foggy with sleep and wine, she awoke to the sensation of someone gently
brushing her hair away from her face. When she opened her eyes she found she
was quite alone. She closed her eyes again only to feel lips pressing against her
cheek. Her eyes flew open. Again, she was alone. She shook her head, confident
it was a half-sleep dream. This took place several times, each time the
sensations becoming more direct and intense: lips nibbling at her neck, teeth
gently biting her lips, hands sliding along her hips, playful fingertips teasing her
nipples. She writhed in the straw, ceasing to care if she understood or not.
She could feel masculine hands on her breasts, but there was no one there. She
could feel his tongue circling her nipples in tight lashing strokes. Hands caressed
the flesh of her navel, her abdomen, slipping easily through her nether pelt. His
lips trailed just seconds behind, silently promising. In her mind's eyes, he
passionately kissed her inner thighs, urging her legs apart. His tongue touched
the tender wet edge of her lips, gently pressing them apart. Her hands went out to
entangle in the hair of the man who conveyed this pleasure. (No one there) Her
hands encountered nothing more than her own aroused flesh. She moaned,
squirming, arching against an imaginary face. Images played through her mind,
as though she watched a staged scene: a man, perhaps the one she had seen
earlier, a silhouette only, one hand stroking his aching manhood as he both
watched and participated............. somehow. Passionate groans vibrated in her
throat. She felt like a delicate harp being played by a master.
His tongue pushed inward, on its way to the inner pearl, creating a wave of
ecstasy in his wake. He tenderly manipulated her most sensitive flesh with his
tongue, paralyzing her with the sensations. Her soft noises of pleasure only drove
him to lap faster at her swollen inner petal. She cried out, shuddering. His
motions quickened, driving them both closer to the proverbial edge. Now the
silhouette pumped his staff wildly, wishing to be inside her instead. She heard a
throaty growl in her mind, and knew it wasn't her own. For a brief moment before
they climaxed, there was eye contact; dark brown eyes, the color of the cypress
bark, imploring her release. The walls reverberated in an orchestra of frenzied
passion, as their voices mingled and meshed. And with the voices, meshed the
sensations, and ultimately, satisfaction.
She awoke panting, bolting straight up in her straw bed. Her nether flesh was still
pulsing from orgasm, her hand damp with her own moistness. She took a deep
ragged breath, laughing nervously at herself. So it was a dream, after all. But
what a dream! The last vestiges of release were still rippling through her body.
She would sleep no more this night, she mused to herself.
She had spent the remainder of the night browsing through the many volumes
that lined the shelves, all bound identically but containing different information.
Most of it was completely foreign to her. Still, some of it seemed to be a guide for
how the Ka'le were to conduct themselves. Others referred to the conduct of
other races and the role the Ka'le played, but only in very vague terms. She had
yet to understand what she read.
Daylight spilled into the cottage in lace-shadow patterns on the smooth floor. She
closed the volume she was pouring over just then, and stretched. Time to take a
better look at the terrain, she thought to herself. She crawled to the table top, so
that she could lean out the aperture. She sighed and retreated in the window after
she observed the forest floor..........easily a hundred feet or more below her. It
was hard to say for the floor was still cloaked in morning mist. She was in a tree
cottage, high above an expansive forest that rippled and radiated like a living
emerald.
She climbed down, disheartened. She didn't really have any desire to leave
immediately, but it would have been nice if the option was open to her. Was she
a prisoner, then? If so, it would be difficult to escape. Difficult, but not impossible.
Still, she was intrigued by both the place and the man, and felt no danger. She
would keep her eyes open for a mean of escape, but wouldn't use it.......yet. She
felt compelled to know what this was all about, and why she'd been lured here.
She dressed in a gown of mist moss, the color of autumn foliage, and quickly
plaited her long locks into a single loose braid that hung over her right shoulder.
The raven flew in and perched on the bookcase, eyeing her quizzically. "You
have been studying, my lady." He commented.
She slanted him a sly look. "Aye, I have. Is that forbidden?"
"No, of course not. But it confuses me that you would need to study this material.
You are an Enchantress, are you not?"
She nodded slowly, confused. He mimicked the action with his small feathered
head.
"You are engaged to teach and serve in the arts of love and seduction, are you
not?"
Again, she nodded slowly.
"So is the Ka'le." He added.
Before he could say more, though, an angry howl erupted from the forest floor.
Both of them started, but the raven immediately took his leave through the
window. Far below, his lord had beckoned. The Knight wore a grave expression,
but his actions gave way to ire. Raven didn't wait for his liege lord to speak.
"I meant no betrayal, brother. I believe the girl is honestly ............."
"The girl has a name!" The Knight snapped. "And she is more than merely 'the
girl'. She is a lady in the court of Citadel, student of the Lady Supreme. If she
wanted to leave this place, there is no way I could stop her. I only barely
managed to maintain the forest's silence this long." He glanced around him at the
towering trunks, as if he admonished them. In response they dribbled leaf
puddles of rain down on him, leftovers from the previous night's storm.
Raven struggled to hide his amusement. "Of course, my lord. The Lady Relendil
is on her third volume of the Ka'le, and the language confuses her. I don't think
she has any idea why she's here."
The knight smiled. "Games of pursuit and resistance are always part of the test,
Raven. Do you think the Lady Relendil will not test me to the fullest? We cannot
change the natural course of things." His voice was grave once more. "You know
that." He added, quietly.
Raven's hesitant silence was answer enough. "What then, brother, should I
answer to her questions?"
"Refer them to me." He answered tersely.
"And she will want to know when you will see her. She's asked already."
A smile spread over his face. "Has she, now? Tell her soon." He disappeared into
the forest, mist engulfing his form.
Three days, and nights, passed. The cottage seemed to grow each time she
slept, now sporting two expansive terraces that extended out over the treetops.
Something else occurred each time she slept, as well. She was seduced in her
sleep, as she was the first night, each time with more tenderness and passion.
Being a very sexual being, it was hard not to enjoy it. Still, in the dark recesses of
her mind, it whispered of abduction and rape. Then again, she had no proof these
were not just dreams. Indeed, as far as she could tell, no one had ever touched
her. Her mind was being stimulated to believe it was happening. While she found
that intriguing and pleasant, she also found it disturbing.
Raven gave very evasive answers to most of her questions, though, he had told
her the order in which to read the volumes to best get an understanding. For that
she was grateful. Occasionally he would throw in the meaning of a word. She was
on her seventh volume. There were, however, fifty-seven volumes. He insisted
that soon the Knight would come to her, but she began to think he was just
stalling her. He also insisted that she was not a prisoner and was free to leave
whenever she desired. He would decline to answer when she asked him how to
exit the cottage. At times, it almost seemed that he was amused, and that
infuriated her. The key was right in front of her, but she failed to grasp it.
Two nights later she sat at the desk, candles burning all around, finishing her
seventh and beginning her eighth volume. The function of the Ka'le in their
society was quite similar to her own, with the exception of................................
The candles went out, all at once, rendering the cottage near black. A cool
breath of air moved lightly across the chamber, seeming to churn around her. At
first she thought it was like her dreams, though she knew herself to be fully
awake. The Knight materialized in front of her, several feet away. Still, she could
feel playful fingers toying with her hair. She sensed him slipping into the seat
behind her. Again, she could see naught of his physical being but a silhouette.
"So, my Lord, you come at last."
His mental projection placed both hands on her upper arms, and planted a tiny
kiss on her shoulder.
"I heard you wanted to see me." He said in way of explanation.
"I need answers." She stated flatly.
Masculine hands caressed her arms. "There are other... needs... I would rather
provide for......" Muscular legs embraced her thighs. His lips fell lightly on her
neck, and in spite of her resolve, she shivered slightly in response. She started to
rise from the chair to approach the physical being. His mental image gently
locked his arms around her waist.
"No, my lady, don't come near. Remain just as you are." The lone form across the
room told her softly.
"Why? I only wish to look into your eyes, my Lord."
He sighed. "I told you; I don't think my appearance would please you. It will
change in a few days. And I have looked in your eyes." He added with
amusement.
"What makes you so sure I would find your present appearance distasteful?"
He didn't answer at once. When the words came, they were laced with pain and
defeat. "I have been assured before, my lady. "
All the time they'd been talking, he had stroked her arms, slowly lulling her into a
near hypnotic state. The subtle scents of herbs and leather about him were
intoxicating.
"Why am I here?" She asked in a whisper.
"For many reasons. To fulfill an oath, for one." He whispered, lips pressed to her
shoulder.
"I don't understand."
"It's not necessary that you understand." He countered. "Only that I inspire
passion, and creativity, and most important, trust, in you." He paused. "Do you
trust me, Relendil?"
"Aye, I believe I do." She answered dreamily. Careful hands traced the form of
her legs against his; a subtle current of heat trailing his fingertips. He cupped her
breasts with both hands, brushing her nipples with his thumbs. She had no power
to turn from him, nor any desire to do so, any longer. She failed to recall how the
hunger for knowledge had burned in her mind, thinking only of the passionate
hunger for fulfillment he instilled in her. She leaned back into him, the image so
real she could feel his hot breath on her neck, the air from his whisper tickling her
ear when he spoke. So real she could feel his stiff member pressing against the
small of her back, oozing with excitement.
He whispered ardent promises of encounters yet to come, while proficient hands
and deft fingers plucked harp strings of lust. Just a few feet in front of her, he
slowly stroked his bouncing staff, making her long to touch him. Her hands
instinctively went out to him, but he gently restrained her with nothing more than a
thought. His fingers gently probed her glistening pink opening, and she rocked
against them. She answered him now, telling him in words the things she couldn't
reach him to do, intensifying the waves of pleasure they succumbed to.
That night, she slept undisturbed, remembering nothing at all of her dreams.
However, upon waking, she was irate with herself. She knew nothing more than
she had the night before, and what's worse, she allowed herself to be diverted
from her purpose. Like a common, giggling teenager of the court! She must
master control of herself, and live up to the title she wore.
Raven visited. She stared at him intently.
"I cannot stay any longer." She blurted out, before any words came to his mind.
Was that fear she sensed in his eyes?
"My lady, you must!" He implored. It was the first sign she had of hitting a nerve.
"If I delay any longer, half the Citadel troops will be overhead searching for me. Is
that what you want?"
He didn't delay even long enough to respond, but took leave immediately.
Very well, she thought. Now all she needed to do was find the door. She stared
hard at the very center of the cabin, and for a moment, it seemed the fiber
wavered, becoming pliable. When she went closer to investigate, she found the
same unyielding grain that always presented itself to her. The key was here, she
knew it. She could sense it within her soul.
On the seventh night, she wasn't asleep more than an hour before his mental
image appeared. Strong hands gripped her waist and she felt as though she was
drawn into his arms. Once his image was there with crystal clarity, for a brief
moment, she consciously blocked him. The image faded, and she was alone. So
it is possible, she thought to herself, though only effective for a few seconds.
'I want answers, my lord, before we go any further.' She projected at him
mentally. If he could project such strong mental images, it was a safe assumption
that he could read them, as well. He didn't respond directly, but increased his
ministrations, lovingly petting and caressing her. She tried not to become
aroused, but it was nearly impossible. He was good. He was very good, reading
her most lustful desires as if she were an open book.........
"My Lord, I don't even know your name." She whispered aloud.
So close, so real, she could feel his breath on her ear. "I have many names. You
know them all. Pick the one you like best."
"Which do you prefer?"
His amusement rippled through her mind. "I prefer you get my attention in a...less
verbal way."
"And if I wish to call out your name in a moment of passion, what then?"
"Call me by the name of your heart's content, and I will become him for you."
She paused, deep in thought. "I know not his name. He refuses to tell me."
His lips fell passionately on hers, the full length of his body gently pressing her to
the bed. So real she could feel his masculinity growing between them. She would
swear he was right there, and yet, she knew better.
"Wouldn't you rather seduce me with your body and not just your mind?"
He moaned softly inside her head. Pinning her arms at her sides, he lapped at
each nipple until she squirmed beneath him. He drew a wet path with his tongue
from her chest to the center of her passion, deftly parting her lips. She gasped
and moaned. She could feel his legs, warm against her thighs, and burned to feel
his manhood inside her.
"Would that it were actually your lips, your hands, your knees parting my legs."
She felt the essence of a shudder. And though he was clearly there, in some
sense, she knew he also alone.
"Would you not like my lips to moisten your staff, or my hand, not yours, to polish
it?"
She continued to urge him on, participating, relating how she imagined it to be
him, and not just the sensations, parting the flesh between her legs. In his mind,
he pressed against her nether lips with the head of his manhood, pushing them
apart with his first thrust. With the second thrust, he drove himself all the way in,
until his furred sack rested against her buttocks. She nearly lost her resolve then,
as she quaked beneath him, her slick pink vessel clutching. His thrusts were
soon wild and hard upon her, expanding the walls of her inner sanctum further
apart with each hungry stroke. When she sensed that climax was imminent, both
his and hers, with a supreme effort, she squeezed her eyes shut, and consciously
blocked him.
Her own body railed against her. His startled cry reverberated through her mind.
"Relendil, open your eyes!" He growled.
"I will not." She answered, already regretting it. So she had guessed right. He
needed that brief moment of eye contact in order to achieve orgasm.
She heard him howl in anger and frustration. Then total silence. Moments later
she heard Raven's voice close to her ear, whispering harshly, "You don't know
what you've done, my lady."
"Of that, I am quite sure." She answered, and doubted if he'd heard. Her eyes
were still clamped tightly shut. Long minutes of absolute silence passed.
"I will do this everytime." She warned. "Until you reveal yourself to me. Do you
hear me?"
"I hear you." He answered, sounding sad and defeated. "You can open your eyes
now. The moment is gone." He muttered.
She didn't comply at once. When she finally opened her eyes, she believed she
was alone in the cottage. She spoke to the cottage in general. "Still, you will not
reveal yourself?"
There was a long pause. "It is amazing to me that you are quite blind with your
eyes fully open, though your sight is not impaired." He answered.
For the first time she realized his voice was in the cottage with her, not inside her
head. He stood in the shadows, leaning against a wall, with his arms folded
across his chest. He stepped out of the shadows gradually, bracing himself for
her reaction. Her eyes widened, and her jaw dropped.
"You........you are.......Caladian!"
"Ka'le," he corrected nonchalantly. "But you're very close. Right world, wrong
race." He smiled slightly.
He was easily as dark-feathered as the Raven, but appeared to be in the final
stages of ...molting. Feathered patches remained around the edges of his face
resembling a thin beard, travelling down his neck, and across his chest. Pale skin
showed where once there were ebony plumes. She stared unabashed, stunned,
but not repelled by his appearance. Deep brown eyes regarded her cautiously;
dark, hypnotic pits. He had an air of intensity and sensuality about him that was
unmistakable.
"But your world was destroyed." She stated flatly.
It was apparent instantly. She could not have inflicted more pain if she'd loosed
an arrow at him. "Of that, you need not remind me, my Lady." He growled. "It
occured on the day of my birth."
She cringed, staring at the floor. "And yet you survived."
"It was too close to my birth for my mother to travel." He said tightly. "She died
here, without a home to go to. I believe I am the last survivor."
A long pause. "And why bring me here?"
"Don't toy with me Relendil. You're Elven, I am Ka'le. You know very well why
you're here."
"With all due respect, my Lord, the destruction of Calada happened before my
birth. Your customs are a mystery to me."
He shook his head in shocked disbelief. "Then you really don't know what you're
doing here?"
Wide-eyed, she shook her head slowly.
He parodied the gesture, lost in deep thought for a moment. While he remained
safe in hiding, everything that was his world had died. With no further words, he
made to leave. When she realized he planned to go, she put out a hand to stay
him.
He jumped back from her touch, as though she held a weapon.
"My Lord, I only wish to know your name."
He smirked disheartedly. "Call me Ka'le, for I am the last."
The floor swallowed him before she could tell him she'd stay, if he'd only explain.
That she had no desire to hurt him. That she only strove to regain some of the
control being withheld from her.
Now that she had her wish, she was more miserable than ever. The worst part
was she understood less, even though she knew more. It was maddening. She
didn't have the heart to tackle the volumes again. Instead, she poured herself a
cup of brandy and retreated to the softness of overstuffed pillows. Relendil
thought, for a time, that no one would come, that she'd be trapped there
indefinitely. Somehow she knew better.
She became aware of the music first, sweet, soft melody subtly filling the awful
silence. A song that would qualify as the Elven blues, if there were such a thing.
She laid back, letting the music enter her, letting it take her tears and turn them to
ringing notes and wailing chords.
"My Lady is swift; such pleasure and such pain in a single blow." Raven said
sadly.
Relendil blinked. She hadn't heard him come in. "I had no more wish to hurt him
than he did me. The two of you........ you speak to me in half-truths and riddles,
you confirm again and again that I don't understand. I don't! So explain it to me!"
She implored.
He hesitated a moment. "That's why I'm here." He assured her. "When you
answered the summons and offered no resistance initially, he thought you
understood, that it was part of the game, of the test. When you didn't leave...."
"I never figured out how." She interjected in a petulant voice.
He chuckled, raising ire in her. "You need only wish to go, and the floor would
open to you. Just as a bath appeared when you wished to bathe, and brandy
appeared when you wished to drink."
She blinked again, shaking her head. The brandy was making her dreamy and
she needed to pay close heed. The answers she had waited days for were at her
fingertips, and her with a snoot full of brandy!
"..........never occurred to him that you might resist. In his culture, your role is one
of honor, and much sought after. Always, the Ka'le and the Elven have had a
pact; one of mutual consent."
Her eyes grew larger, as realization seeped in. She looked desperately at Raven,
beseeching him to deny what he just said. He merely nodded slowly, indicating it
was so.
"You see the Ka'le were trained, and in turn, taught, the matters of love and
fulfillment...........not so unlike, you, my lady. Because they believed that love was
the most powerful force, the Ka'le had to be powerful and able to wield his powers
well. Before he can become a full-fledged Ka'le, there is a rigid battery of tests
that must be passed. These are to ensure the objectivity and effectiveness of the
Ka'le, to ensure that the lust of the Ka'le will not supersede the needs of his
clients or students. The Ka'le held an important position not only in Caladian
society, but many others as well. They were the sanctioned lovers of unmarried
royalty, the saver's of marriages gone bad, and the makers of successful new
ones. Literally, they taught others both to please, and to be pleased by their
mates............. much like you, my lady." The silence was never so loud as when
he stopped speaking.
"And he is the last." She muttered numbly. "By the Goddess, what have I done?"
He sighed heavily. "I was just about to explain that to you." The brandy sat ill on
her stomach, suddenly. The music all but vanished. "The final test of the Ka'le
lasts only one full cycle of the moon. Here, it's only ten days. But there are all
sorts of rules and stipulations. Even one error or failure requires the Ka'le begin
again with another cycle. He has one turning of the seasons to complete his
trials. If he fails........" Raven's voice trailed off.
"What happens if he fails?" She queried with dark intensity.
Raven sighed, lowering his ebony head. "His life is forfeit." He muttered at last.
"The Ka'le pay a high price for their powers, and every power has it's price."
Realization swam deliberately slow. He was about to continue, when she bolted
straight up, her flesh pale and her eyes wide with fear and remorse. "Raven!
Please tell me this is not the end of the cycles!"
He shook his head sadly. "No, but he is dangerously close. If you insist on
leaving, my lady, there will be no time to find another. The last cycle of his year
begins in another 4 days."
She breathed a sigh of relief, but emptied the contents of her cup, now requiring
the numbing effect. "What are the stipulations?"
"All of them? There are 57, in all, each highlighted in one of the volumes."
She raked her hand through her hair, pulling it loose from its plait, in an
expression of helplessness. "Raven, I can't cover fifty volumes in four days.
You're going to have to come forth with some information."
"In brief, in a 10 day cycle, the participants much engage in some sort of sexual
activity each day in which both are ultimately satisfied. Just before the Ka'le
climaxes, he is required to make eye contact with his consort. However, until the
last day of the cycle, they are forbidden to physically touch or consummate the
union.
She frowned in confusion.
"That is why the Ka'le are given such powerful empathic abilities." Raven
continued. "He has lived as a wolf, a serpent, and a raven, as well as a healer, a
scout, and a warrior. He sees and feels life differently from you and I. Because he
must." He paused briefly.
Silence prevailed while his words permeated her mind. The music was just a faint
nuance in the breeze. She rose slowly and went out to the terrace, high above
the forest, bracing herself against the living log railing. The wind lifted locks of
gold and whipped them into her face. In her mind, she railed at her Mentor, for
never teaching her, and the Ka'le, for being so cryptic, but mostly at herself for
not somehow knowing. She didn't hear Raven follow her, but knew that he had.
"Why didn't you just come to the Citadel and ask?" She whispered, hoarsely.
"Why didn't you just explain?"
"My Lady," he began gently. "when you are the enemy of a force powerful enough
to destroy an entire world, you do not go to a place like the Citadel and announce
your whereabouts, or alert him to the fact that he's missed his target."
"I suppose not." She admitted. After a moment, she added. "Is there anyway I can
set things right again?"
"Only one way I can think of: Stay."
"I need to see him........."
"No...he will come to you if he wishes your company."
"No, I think not. He is awake, alone in the dark, hating me, hating himself, and
hating the fact that everything has come down to his last chance." She
murmured, feeling it with crystal clarity. "I will go to him, with or without your help.
As you have already pointed out, you can't stop me." A single tear rolled down
her cheek, fell to terrace floor, and shattered like glass.
While she bathed and dressed, Raven told her all he could of the Knight, and the
tradition of the Ka'le. An hour later, bedecked in filmly silk layers, she was finally
prepared. A wreath of moss rose rode on her crown, holding amber waves in
place. She wore no jewels, save the ones in her nipples and navel, designating
her an Enchantress. And indeed, she needed no more. She stood in the center of
the cottage, where she'd seen him disappear, and wished to be where he was. As
Raven had promised, she was swallowed by living cypress flesh, and deposited
inside a one-room cottage far smaller than the one she now occupied.
The cottage was dark, but for a single, flickering candle, casting dancing
shadows into the gloom. She used her mind, rather than her eyes to locate him,
looking through the aperture, to the forest below, and all his loyal subjects. Their
fate rested in his hands, and he had all but failed them. He didn't turn to face her
until she spoke.
"My Lord." She curtsied and rose again in one slow, graceful movement. "I've
come to ask your forgiveness."
The look of frustration and futility was paramount. He laughed sardonically. "Well
why not? You've managed control of the forest, and you'll leave now. And for this,
you ask to be forgiven? Even knowing what it means? Well, why not? If I am
going to die anyway, I may as well make my piece with the Gods. Very well, I
forgive you!"
"My Lord.........."
"That title is not mine!" He growled.
"It is until someone contests it, or you name a successor." She answered calmly.
"You are the father of New Calada."
"Do you mock me, Relendil?"
"No. I ask to be forgiven for my earlier actions. I didn't understand what it would
mean."
"Truly?"
"Truly. It was a simple misunderstanding over a difference of customs and
teachings. It happens often. That's why the Ka'le must survive."
He eyed her intently. "Are you saying you'll stay?"
"I am saying just that, Ka'le." She smiled genuinely. "Though you may eventually
regret it, for I intend to see that you're the finest Ka'le ever. You must be."
He chuckled. "You have been talking to Raven."
Instinctively, each extended a hand to touch the other, out of gratitude,
acceptance, and mutual vision. Abruptly, realizing their peril, they both yanked
their hands away. She cleared her throat.
"I didn't realize this would be so difficult, face to face." She commented.
He smirked. "Try getting through it four times, without ever knowing the touch of
your consort."
"By now, my Lord, you should be truly gifted at it." She smiled slyly.
He peered into her eyes, longing, with every fiber of his being, to crush her to his
chest and........but he could not.
"There is but one thing left of this cycle, the only thing we can share......... A kiss,
one kiss."
"Ah yes, Raven told me."
"I was saving it until I had a few less feathers, so I wouldn't frighten or repulse
you." He grimaced.
"Apparently, my Lord, I am neither."
Their eyes locked. She started to raise her hand to touch his face, and caught
herself. Together, they put their hands behind their backs, and leaned forward.
Even before his lips touched her, she felt the tingling vibration. And then his hot
moistness was on her mouth. Their lips meshed and their tongues entwined ever
so slowly, fueling the kiss with seven days, and nights of desire. They clung to
the kiss, savoring the contact and the response that rippled through their bodies
in unison. For that brief period, time was suspended. As the kiss ended, each
softly bit the lip of the other.
In naught but a loin kilt, it was difficult to conceal the fact that the kiss had
aroused him. She sought to please him in the only way she could think of. In the
skills of dance, she surpassed even her mentor. She wished for music, and a
slow song of seduction crept gradually into the cottage.
At first, she only swayed slightly, just inches from him, running delicate fingertips
across erect nipples. Then the dance began in earnest. A dance of slithering
erotica, of titillating perception, of mutual masturbation. At times she was so
close, he could feel the heat from her body, and her breath in his ear as she
etched a picture in his mind of his lust fulfilled. Layers of silk dropped onto the
floor as she danced. She retained one length of silk, using it to tease him, without
actually touching him. He moaned, stroking his manhood faster.
The dance became more explicit, moist silk sliding rapidly between her legs. Until
there was no more dance, only the frenzied search of release and the excited
peak of passion. It seemed he would spill his seed endlessly, and that the throes
of orgasm would never cease. A droplet of semen splashed against her stomach,
punctuating the pulsing of her flesh.
They lay on the same bed facing each other, safely apart, and still dangerously
close. Again, the overwhelming urge to touch him, to be held by him...........
She cut the thought off short, and rose from the comfort of his bed. Before she
left, she leaned in close to whisper in his ear,
"This I owed you." She told him softly. Putting her full empathic abilities to the test
for the first time, she gingerly pressed her lips to his. "The next kiss you shall
have to win."
"So I shall." He murmured. He smiled slyly, and drifted off to sleep.
It would be an... interesting cycle... for both of them.
TBC