“You are thinking about her.”
Barely visible, Elathan nodded. “More than that. I will leave at dawn. If I do not return, you will be king, Calatin. Maybe it always was meant to be you.”
Calatin’s eyes widened. “So you really intend to search for her. You’ll try to bring her back from the lands of the dead. Why am I not surprised?”
Elathan shrugged. “My life has become worthless without her, Calatin. I feel … broken. I wouldn’t be a good king for our people, not much more than an empty shell.”
“But how will you find her?”
“I have an idea where to start looking. The druids once told me about an island, far up in the north. It’s hidden amidst a lake, lost in the mist. Only those with a strong will and pure intentions are meant to find it.”
“I heard the stories, too. But Sire, this island is like a portal to the eternal lands. It’s a place for souls who are tied to this world by such strong bonds that they aren’t able to move on, kept in place by love, hate or the hunger for revenge. But are you aware that even if you find Igraine, if she’s still there, she won’t even recognize you? How can you convince her to return to the elven realms with you? I heard that once you’re there, you forget everything, even your own name. And what’s even more dangerous…”
“I could forget everything, too, and never find my way back. I know. It’s a risk that I’m willing to take. At least I would be joined with her in this other world, even if we didn’t recognize each other. Thank you, Calatin,” the prince said, smiling sadly and placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “But I will return with Igraine by my side or not at all.”
Sorrow flashed up in the magician’s eyes, yet he nodded, quickly hiding his pain behind a reckless grin. “At least I will get all the women now. The king can take as many concubines as pleases him, am I right?”
“Aye, my friend, but only one queen. Pray that the gods will help me find mine, wherever she might be right now.”
Chapter 28: The Sun and the Moon
Thick fog clouds my head when I finally open my eyes, awakened from a long, deep slumber. I find myself resting on a comfortable wooden bed with soft linen sheets. My eyesight is still blurred, and I feel nauseated for a moment as I move to the edge of the mattress. I grab a bedpost to steady myself, then I roll to my side and stand up, very slowly. The blanket slips from my body and falls down to the floor. Gasping, I notice the miserable state I’m in – I wear something that surely was a lovely black dress once. Now it’s not much more than rags, dirty and stained with dried blood. I know because I recognize the smell – sickeningly sweet, metallic. My arms and legs are covered with cuts and bruises, and my right shoulder bears a scar from a recently healed wound. But apart from that, my body seems to be healthy, sculpted with lean muscles, yet femininely curved. Even if I don't know why, it surprises me. Did I always look this way? I decide that I like to feel strong.
I wonder what has happened to me, where and, most importantly, who I am. But as hard as I try, I can’t remember my own name. It’s right there, at the corner of my mind, but I just can’t reach it. I don’t know anything at all. When I try to think harder, a searing pain shoots through my head. It feels like nails driven into my skull, and I press my hands to my temples, moaning. After a while I feel better, so I can concentrate on my surroundings.
I seem to be in some kind of hut, consisting of a single large but sparsely furnished room. The bed I slept in, a large wooden trunk – I decide to find out next what’s in it - nothing more. The walls are whitewashed, clean. A glassless window, a thatched roof. I’ve never seen this place before, I think, but I’m not sure. When I open the heavy lid of the trunk, I’m relieved to find new clothes in it. Quickly I remove my blood-stained gown and dress in a soft white chemise, followed by a long turquoise dress. The cut is simple, tight around the waist, but with a long, flowing skirt. There are no shoes, so I pad over to the door in my bare feet and press down the handle, opening it.
When I step out, I’m in the strangest place I’ve ever seen – not that I can really remember where I’ve been before. At first, all I see is dense, white satin mist. It’s everywhere, swallowing the daylight. Even the colors of the old, gnarled willow trees around the hut seem to be pale, washed out like a distant memory. I wonder if I’m inside a dream, but at the same time I know that all this is real. I breathe the cool, clear air, feel the fog cover my skin with a thin veil of moisture. The ground beneath my feet is real, as is the deep blue water lapping at the shore just a few steps away. I walk through high, soft grass until I reach the narrow strip of sand leading down to the water. Bowing down, I put a finger into it and taste that it’s fresh and sweet, so I’m not at the sea. It must be a lake, but I can’t estimate its size for all is shrouded in the ever-present fog, obscuring my view in every direction. As I slowly turn around, I finally see that it must be a small island I’m standing on, a tiny speck of land that seems to consist of some grass, a couple of trees and my hut. Suddenly I know that the lake must be large and deep. I can’t see the other side, but I’m sure that it’s impossible to try to swim to the other shore. It’s not just a feeling. I know it. And I also know that I’m all alone.
Yet, being alone doesn’t frighten me. This place seems to have a magic of its own. It is mine, and I’ll be happy to stay here forever, just sitting at the shore and resting my feet in the cool water, looking out into the mist. It’s beautiful. There doesn’t seem to be any source of food to find on the island, but I don’t feel hungry at all. In fact, I think I don’t need to eat anymore – ever. Maybe anything is possible here.
Despite wearing the new clothes, I am still dirty and smeared with blood, so I quickly shove down the gown and chemise and wade into the water. There’s no soap or towel, but the cool water feels heavenly on my naked body while I rub off all the blood and dirt, leftovers of my other life. I don’t care about those events anymore. Maybe it’s better if I don’t remember. Yet, there’s something still there, a distant memory that has outlasted my long sleep of oblivion. It’s hidden somewhere in the back of my mind, like a living being, and it makes my heart weep with sadness if I fail to deliberately ignore it for a moment. It angers me, this unknown presence – what is it, this thought that slips out of my reach every time I search for it? But I don’t want to remember. Leave me in peace, I whisper, hoping the unwanted part of my mind will heed my words.
Suddenly, I sense a change. I smell it in the air, see the fog swirling in other directions, stretching out its pale fingers as if to warn me. I look down at the water that used to be still and calm, like a mirror. Now tiny waves lap at my naked breasts. It feels like a lover’s caress, and I close my eyes for a moment, enjoying it. But change disturbs the precious peace I just found, and I don’t want this to happen. Angrily, I wade out of the water and quickly dress. Then I wait at the shore and listen, my body prickling with awareness.
Something is coming through the dense mist. I don’t know what it is at first, but gradually the long, sleek form of a ship takes shape. It’s a rather small vessel, but its beauty makes me hold my breath. It looks much like a Viking dragon boat, but it’s not made of wood. It’s entirely made of silver, adorned with innumerable ornaments. There are no pictures, but symbols in an unknown language. Instinctively, I know that some kind of magic spell enables this metal ship to glide over the water so smoothly, barely making a sound.
When the ship cuts through the fog like a silver knife, I see him standing at the bow. A man, if he’s a man at all, not a ghost from another life to haunt me. He's tall and broad-shouldered, clad in soft black leather trousers, boots and a long white tunic stretching over bulging muscles, a sword sheathed at a belt around his waist. Even before I can see him clearly, I feel his intimidating presence, while his proud posture and strength leaves no doubt that he’s a warrior. His every movement radiates power, and small shivers run down my spine. Long, silvery blond hair falls wildly down to his waist, giving him the look of a pagan angel.
My mouth feels dry, and I fight the urge to sigh with desire.
Then he sees me, and his body becomes tense all at once. He looks like a tiger spotting his prey for the first time. My inner peace vanishes, and I feel self-conscious, with lake water dripping from my hair and the simple dress that clings to my wet skin. I don’t want this beautiful warrior to look at me, and I start to retreat, longing for the safety of my little hut. His body becomes even more rigid when I try to turn away from him. Cautiously, he stretches out a hand as if asking me to stop, to stay right where I am. Perhaps he has woven a spell over me, for suddenly I am unable to move. Like a marble statue, I just stand in the shallow water until the vessel reaches the shore.
With the natural grace of a wild animal, he jumps out of the ship and lands waist-deep in the water, just a few steps away from me. When I behold his face for the first time, something inside me breaks, and I feel a strange wetness on my cheeks. Furiously, I wipe it away with the back of my hand. “Go away,” I tell him. Just looking at him makes the strange pain I felt earlier rip through my head again. I don’t want all of this. But I am too weak to resist.
He’s the sun. He’s the moon. Not answering, he simply looks at me. His eyes are so sad. I wonder why. Carefully, not wanting to frighten me away, he reaches out his left hand and touches my cheek. It makes me shiver with pleasure, and I press my face into his palm for a moment before shrinking back from his touch.
Deep within me, something stirs - something primal, untamed. My body craves him, my heart aches for him. But I don’t know this man, neither do I want to. Even if he hasn’t spoken a single word yet, he makes me … want to remember. And simply trying brings back the pain inside my head, nearly causing my skull to burst.
Here on the island, every day is like a new beginning. No sorrow, no pain. Just peace and silence to calm the deep, raging sea of feelings inside my soul. I like to keep it that way.
“Igraine.”
I hear his deep, melodic voice for the very first time, not much more than a whisper on the wind. The strange word drops like honey from his tongue, and it feels like he’s caressing my body. I dare to lean closer to him. Closing my eyes, I inhale his male scent. He smells like midnight dew on a freshly opening blossom. Slowly I raise my face to his, looking into his warm golden eyes. When I moisten my parted lips with the tip of my tongue, I hear a low groan from deep inside his chest.
My every instinct tells me that if I allow the stranger to touch me only once again, my blissful oblivion will be lost forever. His breath sounds ragged now, as if he’s barely able to constrain his own strength. Or is it caused by the same pain I see in his eyes? But I don’t want to look at him any longer. He frightens me beyond measure.
One step back. Then another.
I turn around and run.
* * * * *
As Igraine fled from the stranger, her feet got caught in the soft ground, covered with a thick carpet of silver leaves. Every movement appeared slow, too slow, while she stumbled towards the safety of her hut. Without turning back, she knew that he was following her. She heard his powerful strides behind her. The fear gave her new strength, and she ran faster now, holding up her skirt to avoid tripping on the hem.
There was the hut, right ahead. She ran, and her heart beat like a war drum inside her chest. Although she could hear him breathing, she didn't dare to look back and see how easily he hunted her down. Nor did she want to be tempted by his otherworldly beauty. Reaching her tiny cottage, she stretched out her hand to open the door. This was the moment when he caught her. She never had a chance to begin with. His tall, hard body crashed into her back. Strong arms locked around her waist like unyielding bands of steel. The impact made them fall down to the ground where they lay for a long moment, unmoving. Their ragged breathing was the only sound on the island. For the first time, she realized that there wasn't anything else. She couldn’t hear birds singing or small animals rustling through the undergrowth, not even the soft sound of water breaking against the shore. His heavy body was stretched out on top of hers, pinning her down into the mass of leaves so she was unable to move. He leaned onto his elbows to take some weight off her. Igraine's hair had fallen forward, and the back of her neck was bared to his hot, agitated breath. She couldn't suppress a soft moan when he touched her with his lips right there, leaving a burning mark on her skin.
He buried his face in the small valley between her neck and shoulder and inhaled deeply. “Igraine,” he whispered. The word scorched her soul, tortured her. Trapped like an animal, she started to fight him. She buckled up to push him off her back, but when she failed, she believed she heard a trickle of deep laughter. Furious now, she finally managed to turn around and face the barbarian who was lying fully on her body. His sculpted chest crushed her breasts, and when she wriggled under him, the friction caused her nipples to harden against her will, aching for his touch. His weight pressed her deeper into the bed of leaves, and she was surrounded by his irresistible fragrance. She couldn’t even try to describe it.
He smelled of untamed power and surprising sweetness, the musky scent of male rising passion, the freshness of a spring night. She wanted to lick every part of his body like the most delicious treat. His hair fell down all over her, woven of gold and silver, and it felt like pure silk on her skin. She presently closed her eyes and just savored the feeling of him, his warmth. Then she began to struggle against him in earnest. She forced up her arms and pounded against his chest, trying to hurt him. She wanted to make him go away. But no matter how hard she tried, she was no match for his strength. He didn't even seem to feel it.
She grabbed a fistful of his hair to pull at it, hoping to hurt him enough so he'd leave her alone. Groaning, she tried not to feel how smoothly the long tresses glided through her fingers. Her other hand reached up to hit him, but instead it developed a life of its own, eagerly touching his cheek which was roughened by a soft stubble. Suddenly, she wanted him to rub his face all over her body, until she burned and tingled with pleasure. Her fingers moved up to his ear, and to her surprise it was pointed. When he noticed her staring at him, he turned his head and allowed her to watch him more closely.
“What are you?” she breathed. “You are not human.”
Her gaze dropped down to his hands when he gently touched her shoulders, and she saw that his sword hand was made of silver. She took a deep breath, her eyes widening. Apart from the silver skin, the hand looked perfectly normal. She could even see his veins shimmering through. She felt his fingers, warm and strong on her bare arm. The stranger watched her intensely to see her reaction, surprise on his face when she shrugged. “I see that you have a magic hand, elf. I’ll admit that it’s pretty, but nothing to impress me, lowly human that I am. Now leave my island and begone.”
Why did I just say that, she thought. She had never met him before. And she had called him an elf without hesitation, even if she had wondered what he was just a few moments ago.
Astonishingly, her words didn't anger him at all. He smiled brightly, his face more beautiful than she could ever endure, and her heart cried out with joy. Yet she couldn't allow this to happen, not understanding the strange power he wielded over her.
“Whatever you are, I don’t know you," she hissed. "Go away. I want to be alone.”
This was enough to make his smile vanish. Until now, his predator’s eyes had shone with golden fire, but her words made them look dark and sad again. Without knowing why, she hated herself for having extinguished the light in those wonderful, old eyes. She didn't want to see the grief in them, so deep that she felt her heart start to bleed. She had no idea why she even cared about this cruel stranger who threatened the safety of her island, but she did. Not knowing what else to say, she just followed her instincts. She grabbed his hair again and pulled him down to her face. Burning with the need to touch, to taste, to devour, she kissed him fully on the lips, hard.
Storms of passion raced through her, through both of them. The sole reason for their existence w
as to mate, to be joined as a single, primitive being. A spark of light rose from their entangled bodies, instantly flashing to life and engulfing them in a raging firestorm. This is magic, she managed to think before they were surrounded by a column of fire that shot up into the air, higher and higher until it reached the clouded sky. Thunder rumbled over their heads, and then even the heavens wept for them. Rain poured down, drenching them in an instant. But the magic flames kept licking at them, resisting banishment by the water as he kissed her deeply, almost brutally.
Her lips opened willingly when he entered her mouth with his tongue. Rivers of molten lava ran through her body and gathered in the aching valley between her thighs. They began to pull the clothes off each other’s bodies, tearing them with the groans of frustrated animals until they were naked, skin to skin. The feeling of his unbelievably strong body on hers was almost more than she could bear, and she wanted to cry with happiness. He covered her naked breasts with hot kisses, pressed them together to claim them with his lips. His tongue circled one tight peak, then the other, before he sucked her deep inside his mouth, making her moan with pleasure.
His hard, thick arousal rested against her soft belly. She needed him, his full length inside her wet body, opening her, plunging deep inside. Spreading her thighs as wide as she could, she wrapped her legs around his muscular thighs. Moaning, she wriggled under him until the head of his manhood was placed against her swollen folds, already slick with wetness. The contact made him moan while he licked his way up from her breasts to her neck, tasting her skin. She cried out with pleasure when he bit her like a mating wolf, a deep growl rising from his chest.
Instead of entering her, the elf suddenly pressed his brow to hers. The gentle gesture surprised her, but at the same time it seemed to be familiar.
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