Faerie Tale

by Raymond Feist

  Gabbie resumed turning the hay and smiled at the thought of Jack. There was such a difference between Jack and Danny. Danny had been a nice boy, most of the time, but he’d been a boy. Jack was a gentle and loving man. He never spoke about Ginger, the girl down in Atlanta, except to answer a direct question from Gabbie. He had told Gabbie he was a little beat up from that relationship, and she attributed his reluctance to speak of the future to that. Whenever Gabbie would become concerned about tomorrow, all Jack would say was, “It will work out.”

  Gabbie thought, Damn right it will work out, Jack Cole. Feeling a sudden surge of strong feelings for him, she found her eyes brimming with moisture. Damn it, she did love him. And she knew that soon she was going to drag him off someplace and make love. He’d never pressed and never accused, seemingly satisfied to take his lead from her. Twice now she’d regretted his not being a little more commanding. Ever since that first walk in the woods, since that night at Aggie’s, she would have let Jack make love to her. But the fact of his restraint only served to make her more sure of his being just the right man to be her first—and maybe only—lover. Gabbie took a deep breath, suddenly aware she was nervous. Jack was due back in an hour or two and Gabbie considered that this might be the night.

  Gabbie finished freshening the straw in the stalls and put the fork away. The horses were out in the pasture and this time of year stayed out at night, but the hay still got moldy. The boys had taken another riding lesson before their regular afternoon ball game. Gabbie was surprised to discover how much she enjoyed teaching them. When she had arrived from Arizona, the twins had been six, cute but underfoot a lot. Now they were turning into regular little guys, complete with personalities. They even managed to complete the small chores given them around the barn with a minimum of grumbling. Despite their teasing her about Jack, they seemed to hold their older half sister and her boyfriend in genuine affection and showed gratitude after each lesson. And she loved them, despite a maddening tendency on their part to barge into the bathroom without knocking. Several leisurely baths had been terminated with Gabbie throwing bath sponges at one brother or the other.

  Gabbie wiped perspiration from her brow. She didn’t know if she’d ever get used to the humidity after years in the dry heat of Arizona and Los Angeles. The unexpected summer showers were alien to her, and the one that morning had been a beauty. Even in the early evening, with the sun dipping behind the hills to the west, it was like a steam bath in the barn. She pulled at her shirt, letting the air in. She rarely wore a bra, and the air felt cool on her breasts. She unbuttoned her shirt and flapped it, allowing the evaporating moisture to cool her. She regarded herself as the cooling caused chill bumps to form on her breasts. Not as big as Sheila Riley’s, maybe, but not so bad, she thought, absently touching herself. As her fingers passed over her nipples they came erect, and she thought of Jack. “Christ,” she muttered aloud, “I’ve got sex on the brain.”

  A noise caused Gabbie to freeze. It had been a laugh. She spun around, rapidly covering herself. She sought the source of the sound and glanced up at the hayloft, hidden in the almost evening gloom. “Is someone up there?” From within the shadows a laugh erupted, boyish in timbre. “Sean? Patrick?” Again the laugh. “Are you monsters spying on me?” Her tone was angry and she felt herself blush.

  The laugh continued, and suddenly Gabbie was afraid. It wasn’t Sean or Patrick. There was something unnerving, almost mad, in the sound. Gabbie was turning toward the barn door when a whispering, musical voice said, “Hold, and abide awhile, Gabrielle.”

  Gabbie whirled and beheld a boy, no more than fourteen or fifteen from his appearance, hunkering down at the edge of the hayloft. He was partly hidden by shadows. “How … ? Who are you?”

  The boy jumped, and Gabbie felt her heart skip. She regarded the drop, over twelve feet, but he landed like a gymnast coming off the high bar, both feet planted firmly on the ground. He wore an odd-looking pair of trousers, of coarse linen, it appeared, tied with a thong. They reminded her of the hospital pants worn by some of the kids at school. He was barefooted and bare-chested, and he stood slightly taller than she. His body was muscled, but smoothly, less like a man’s than an athletic boy’s, and his hair was a tangle of brown curls, of a color different from anything she had seen, looking like nothing as much as the color of tree bark. His face was young, but odd—high cheekbones, a high brow, almost cruel lips, and wide, deep eyes. The blue of those eyes struck her, and she was certain she had seen them before. Softly, feeling confused, she said, “Who … are you?”

  “A wanderer, a seeker, fair one.” He stared at her, his eyes passing over her body as if caressing her. His expression was appraising, openly desirous. “Do not leave yet, for your society is most pleasing.” He spoke in a funny way, with an accent impossible to place but somehow familiar. He reached out, and Gabbie’s heart skipped again, and she felt terror building within her. She was on the verge of crying out, or running, but was somehow unable to accomplish either. The youth touched her hair, then her cheek. As his fingertips brushed her face, Gabbie’s body tensed, for a thrill ran down her neck, between her breasts, to her groin. Her nipples hardened again and her body flushed with heat as she trembled. The odor of flowers and spices assailed her nostrils and her head swam.

  Teetering she stood while the youth walked around her. Gabbie was unable to follow him, as if her head refused to turn and her eyes were fixed forward. From behind her the youth leaned toward her until his face was next to her cheek, his chin resting upon her shoulder. Softly he said, “I would not have troubled you, Gabrielle, save that your longing sings to me. Your heat is felt and, being felt, warms my desires.” He giggled, a sound that caused a shiver to run up Gabbie’s spine. “Pleasing, your form is a delight to my senses. To you shall I return such delight, for your needs are as apparent to me as a storm in the sky is to the raven.” She felt his hand press against the small of her back, then slide down over her right buttock. She shook, unable to move, trapped like a deer in the headlights of an oncoming car at night. Her mind shrieked and yet she could make no sound; and from deep within, a desire was building. The youth moved in front of her and she saw him clearly again. He wore nothing beneath the trousers, and she could see he was in a state of arousal. His eyes were electric, a blue like flashing lightning. His boyish features were masked by a shadow of ages, both childlike and ancient. He was beautiful and terrifying to gaze upon. He moved close to her, and all she could see were his eyes. Blue, like the shimmering surface of lapis lazuli, like perfect ice, his eyes drank her will. His voice caressed her, soft and sensual. “Shall such a flower wither for want of tending? Nay,” he whispered in her ear. His hot breath blew over her cheek and ear and she shuddered. “If the bloom is to be lost, then it shall not wither, it shall be plucked. Come, follow, child.” He gave her a small push and she found herself moving toward the barn door. The youth half skipped, half danced, reaching the door a moment before her. He paused to glance out and, satisfied that nothing was amiss, pushed wide the barn door. Gabbie found herself moving despite any wish of her own.

  Her mind felt detached from her body, robbed of any volition. She moved in rhythms odd and jerky, as if whatever commanded her was unused to her body. Her body? her mind wondered. She fought to halt, and felt her body held at the door of the barn.

  The youth spun to face her, a smile of searing heat burning her eyes like the crack of lightning. In a voice like music he said, “You know your desires. Do not pause. Come, come with me.” He made an airy gesture with his hand, a lazy half circle, and said, “Listen, listen, Gabrielle.”

  From the distance came the sound of music, a sobbing melody so lovely it brought tears to Gabbie’s eyes. Grand themes overwhelmed her, though the sound was little more than a quintet, a harp and three flutes, with another, unrecognized woodwind. Still, it swept over her like a wave, freeing emotions that came flowing up from some place deep within. Gabbie cried, for the song was too lovely to be mortal, both wo
nderful and sad. It was the loveliest song she had ever heard and the most melancholy.

  Then the theme of the music turned sprightly, a jaunty tune of merry syncopations. Gabbie felt her body respond, felt her pulse quicken, as she moved in time to the music, half walking, half dancing behind the strange young man. He turned and capered around her, and from somewhere he produced pipes, four reed flutes fastened together. He played in counterpoint to the music, and Gabbie felt like laughing, yet it was an urge to a laughter caught between joy and insanity. A tiny part of her stood aloof, attempting to sort out the madness that had enveloped her, but that lonely part was the only logical being in an insane universe, for everything around Gabbie had become fey.

  The barn looked blurry, as if seen through a smeared glass, and the light in the sky was electric, a searing blue vibrant with energies never seen, only felt. The trees rustled in the breeze and they spoke in an ancient language. Even the mud beneath her feet seemed lovely, a moist and warm carpet to dance across.

  The boy moved through the pasture, Gabbie at his side. She was a puppet, a marionette whose strings he deftly manipulated. She found herself spinning, making running circles as when she had been a child, moving for the sheer and simple joy of movement. A gleeful sound echoed her own laugh and she saw the boy grinning at her.

  Seemingly without effort, he vaulted the fence with but one hand upon the top of a post. Gabbie climbed, but even that normally awkward movement was in time with the song, all rhythm and harmony. He led her into the woods, into the cool green of the forest. And in the gentle evening the trees sang and Gabbie listened.

  Never had the woods looked like this, alive, throbbing with life and energies she could see. The gloom became soft sheltering darkness, transparent to her eyes, as a new dimension was revealed to her. She could see every branch and leaf, and every tree, each unique. She saw that there was another world, a hidden world, contained within, surrounded by, the world of her birth. She knew that this other world had always been there, but that she had never before been able to perceive it. Now, in the midst of this mad and joyous dance, she could see that other world. And in the darkness the boy glowed with his own faint blue light.

  Then the boy was dancing around her in a circle, all the while playing on his pipes, spinning like Pan at a bacchanal. Gabbie watched the boy’s shoulders and back while he spun, young muscles cleanly outlined under the skin. The scent of wildflowers, honey, and spices assailed her nostrils as the boy moved closer and closer to her. God, he was beautiful, she thought, as she felt his nearness. When he spun, she could see that despite the mad dance, his erection was still there, a homage to her loveliness. Gabbie was overwhelmed with desire for this boy. Her own body became a thing unto itself, alive with awareness; each fiber of muscle sought to bend and twist, to flex and release, and the dance was joined. Her skin was electric, her hair flying around her like a dark halo. Her nipples were hardened to a painful state and her stomach and groin were awash in damp heat. A distant voice deep within screamed in terror, pleading with her to flee. She dismissed that voice.

  Without knowing how he had come to stand before her, Gabbie was vaguely aware of his hands unbuttoning her shirt and felt the cool air against her breasts, as his tongue lightly darted against her cheek. Her body tensed, suddenly coiling like a spring, and then he lightly touched her left breast. She exploded in a flash of wet heat, her body releasing in a wild uncontrolled spasm.

  Gabbie’s knees went weak and she began to collapse, but a surprisingly powerful arm encircled her, holding her upright as if she were a child. Her skin was drenched, as perspiration coursed down her, and she gasped for air. In a distant corner of her mind the conscious being named Gabbie suddenly cringed in terror, as her body went out of control, becoming a thing apart. She felt her fall turned into a gentle descent to the ground. She shuddered as waves of pleasure coursed through her, numbing her last shred of volition. Softly he said, “Come, young beauty, come, and let me gift thee with delights.” He bent over and kissed her. And then he drank her soul.

  He deftly unbuttoned the fly of her jeans. His hand traced circles of fire across her stomach and her breath caught in her throat. He lowered his head and kissed her breasts and she felt the spring inside her groin winding tightly again. Her mind was overcome by hot wet longings and she couldn’t think. He slipped his hand below the elastic of her panties and between her legs. Gabbie shook and thrashed and bucked like a wild animal, sounds of primitive pleasure erupting from her lips.

  Trapped within herself, isolated from her own body, Gabbie’s mind was smothering. And through that palpable heat she could see images, a kaleidoscope of memories, brilliant colors scattered behind her eyes, dancing like translucent colored beads swirling in blinding light. She could see every man who had ever attracted her, each remembered in detail. They stood before her, all aroused and ready, each an object of her desire, each content to wait upon her whim. From her days at school she remembered a stallion ready to mount a mare, and the laughter of the girls as they watched one of the stable men holding the stallion’s huge member and trying to guide it into the brood mare while not getting stepped on by the inflamed animal. The giggles were transformed into sighs and moans of passion as the girls suddenly shared the act with the mare. Then the girls were surrounding Gabbie, and the hated shower in the gym was transformed into a sensual arena, as firm young bodies writhed in the hot steam and glistened under the blue lights. Desires undreamed of rose inside and she lusted to caress those slender bodies, to explore their moist mystery, and to taste their lips. Red lights burned—no, fire, she could now see—and a giant of a man stood revealed before her. His arms flexed as he pounded upon an anvil, his perfect body drenched in sweat. Wayland, she thought. Then she knew the boy was beside her, his tongue probing the soft contours of her stomach.

  Through a crimson haze of her own pounding blood, she could see the youth moving to position himself over her. His face blurred and shifted and for an instant another gazed down upon her, one whose aspect was madness made solid by a demented artist. A face of cruel beauty regarded her, then that face lowered to meet hers. His hot breath was as sweet as mulled cider, his thrusting tongue hinting at peppercorn sharpness. His kiss seared her lips; his touch shocked her skin, and pleasure mounted to levels of intensity beyond her capacity to endure. The burning wet heat between her legs became electric, and as she climbed new heights of desire, the gratification of that desire remained just beyond her reach. Seeking unobtainable release, Gabbie crossed the boundary between passion and torment. Desire fled as, in that instant, pleasure turned to pain.

  Gabbie knew agony. And terror engulfed her. Fear profound and uncontrolled, the knowledge that she stood poised at a point of being lost beyond redemption, swept over her, carrying her beyond concerns of flesh and passion; she verged on becoming lost in spirit. Within her own mind she screamed out in terror, but her lips only moaned in pleasure, as her body remained a thing apart from her. Trapped within herself, she knew this was nothing of love. Love was a giving thing and this was a taking, a ripping away of something precious. Gabbie screamed again in her mind, but her body only made hoarse sounds of sexual satisfaction.

  The youth attacked her with animal fury, his teeth and nails leaving fire upon her white skin, each nip and scratch eliciting a yelp of pleasure. Deep within herself, Gabbie shrank away in fear, a spectator to her own body, so mindless in its grotesque lust that even this pain became a delight. Silently, inwardly, she wept in mortal terror. Gabbie felt the boy’s hands work perverted magic upon her flesh and knew he was about to take her. And she knew that once he had her, she would never return to the world she had known. For, deep within herself, she knew that beyond this pleasure and pain lay only death.

  Even as the passion and terror mounted toward climax, a sound intruded, and that distant, trapped part of Gabbie’s mind turned toward the sound. Someone called her name. It was a distant voice, but coming closer. Then she heard a familiar voice call, “
Gabbie?” Searing agony passed through her groin, feeling like an electric shock applied to flesh too sensitive to endure the most gentle caress. She arched and twisted as if current passed into her body, silently gasping, unable even to scream so intense was the jolt of energy. Yet even at that instant she knew this was but a promise of the full measure of agony yet to come. She could only silently whimper as waves of heat and pain raced to consume her, and she understood that she would endure them for an eternity before death arrived.

  Then the red heat vanished and the pain remained. Gabbie felt something akin to a cascade of frigid water pour over her feverish body. Her heart seized up and her breath froze within her as she went rigid. Then her heart resumed beating, and a single gasping breath drove slivers of ice into her lungs. She lay cold and sick, her ravaged body shuddering in reaction to the wrenching transition from sweltering heat to icy darkness. Something was removed from her, leaving her adrift upon a frigid jet sea, the pounding in her ears the sound of distant breakers smashing upon ebon rocks. In that lightless arctic ocean she floated. The first sensation to intrude into this blackness was a smell. Damp earth. No longer did her head reel from sweet fragrances; now she smelled the richness of loam, and the blend of wood and leaf fragrances, the odor of grasses and the musk of a distant vixen, all carried on the cool night air. In an uncoordinated, tentative way, her mind was rejoined with her body. She became aware of a trembling, a sensation somehow coming closer, until she realized it was her body shaking, her teeth chattering audibly. She moved her head, and the pain shot behind her eyes, making her cry out. Then it was light, almost blinding. “What!” said the distant voice. “Gabbie! Oh my God!”

  Gabbie felt the inky haze lifting. She blinked and shook her head. The terror had vanished, as if someone chased it away, but much of the pain and the terrible cold remained and she couldn’t stop shivering. Then Jack was standing over her.