by Joy Nash
Beside her, Derrin tensed and laid his hand on her arm. She followed his gaze into the forest. She could see nothing out of the ordinary, but Derrin’s posture indicated something was there, and not far away.
A pine bough gave a soft sigh as a shadow brushed past it. An enormous gray wolf padded toward them, firelight reflected in its golden eyes. A male, so huge that its front paws were easily bigger than Gina’s hands. Long tufts of shaggy fur streamed over its powerful flanks.
It sat down less than an arm’s span away. Derrin stared at the animal. The creature gazed back with an almost wistful expression. Long moments passed, then the direwolf rose and faded into the night as silently as it had emerged.
Gina would have spoken, but the aching sadness in Derrin’s eyes stopped her. Instinctively, she knew he needed solitude. She eased away and crawled into the shelter, where she lay awake for a long time, listening to the wind.
Chapter Nineteen
The tree rose higher than Gina would have believed possible, spreading its limbs in a cloud of green. At the canyon floor, its gnarled trunk was so wide a dozen people with arms outstretched could not have encircled it. Overhead, the tips of its branches reached nearly to the crest of the cliff. Its roots pulled at the earth in great waves, entwining huge boulders in its grasp. Younger, straighter trees gathered close, like grandchildren at the feet of an ancient matriarch.
The Tree Clan lived in a large hollow at the base of the main trunk, in four communal roundhouses. The bark-covered dwellings merged with the skin of the great tree. The familiar curl of smoke rose above the rooftops.
Gina and Derrin made their way toward the village, negotiating waist-high roots and rain-scoured gullies. A group of about a dozen barefooted children ran out to meet them, calling the traditional Baha’Na greeting amid much laughter. Gina smiled and waved in response. A moment later, upturned faces surrounded her, and she could go no further.
One small girl caught Gina’s hand. “Come, I will guide you to my mother.”
“Your mother?”
“She is Malia, Na’lara to the Tree Clan.”
Gina went with the girl, the other children trailing behind. Derrin nodded, but didn’t follow. He angled toward the far end of the village, where a cluster of men stood.
Her tiny guide chattered away, a disjointed font of information. “I am Lasha. My brothers are Tolin and Sarrin. They are almost men. Our father is Standing Deer. We live over there.” She pointed to the nearest roundhouse. “Father calls me a rama because I am such a good climber.”
“What’s a rama?”
Lasha giggled and pointed to a long-tailed creature scampering overhead.
They neared the massive trunk. Stout vines wrapped around it, climbing high, sliding along the trees limbs, then dipping to the ground. Lasha grabbed one curled end. With swift grace, she hopped up on the wide curve of a low-hanging branch and scrambled up to the nearest vee.
“Come on!” she called.
Gina gaped at her. “Up there?” she asked, feeling foolish.
“Of course!” Lasha giggled. “Where else? My mother is waiting for us.” She cocked her head, her eyes bright, and Gina could well believe the little girl was kin to the rama. “It is easier with your feet bare.”
Gina untied her boots and followed, gripping the vine and hoisting herself into the tree. Foliage enveloped her, pulling her into its embrace with the ease of a mother gathering her young. She climbed higher, easily finding her footing, her hands always within reach of a hold.
The branches were wider than her outstretched arms. Deep furrows wandered over the bark-like lines on the face of a woman so old she has forgotten her age. Leaves—huge sheets of green—rustled as she climbed.
Gina looked down at the crisscross of limbs below her. The ground had disappeared.
Overhead, Lasha giggled. She was perched on a limb near a woman whose face was a mature version of her own.
Gina pulled herself up beside the pair. Malia greeted her with a graceful arc of her arm. “The Goddess shines on your coming, Gina.”
“She shines on your home,” replied Gina, returning the gesture. She extended her mind to the Baha’Na woman, touching her in a brief embrace. “Your little rama is a good guide.”
Malia smiled. “Scamper away, now, little rama,” she told her daughter. Lasha jumped from her perch and disappeared into the foliage. “My daughter loves the tree, as do all the People. The path of each clan joins with ours in the grandmother’s embrace.”
The strength of the Tree radiated from its rough skin. “I feel her embrace, as well,” Gina said. “I’m glad my path has crossed yours.”
“Your journey cannot help but be one with ours. All paths lead to the Goddess. Truly, there is nowhere else to go.” She rose. “Stay here for a time, Gina.” She slipped through the branches and disappeared.
Gina let out a slow breath and looked around. Scattered patches of ground and sky flashed between the leaves. She settled into the seat Malia had vacated and felt her limbs grow heavy with peace.
A light breeze wafted through the branches, rustling the leaves and making the smaller branches sigh. Patches of brilliant blue played around edges of green, breathing with the wind. A large black ant walked a torturous path along a ridge of bark. Three others soon followed it. A small bird darted past, sure in its flight between the leaves, calling to its mate. A glint of sunlight illuminated a spider’s thread. A chattering rama undulated along a thick branch.
By the time Gina thought of descent, daylight was beginning to fade. Her mouth was dry and the air had grown cooler, but she pushed those discomforts from her mind. The night creatures would soon begin their twilight cries. She waited, listening.
Moon shadows passed over her. An unseen animal brushed her leg in the darkness. A night hunter called.
A birdsong signaled dawn. Gina sat up and blinked. She didn’t remember falling asleep, but somehow the night had flown past. A vibrant scent filled the air. Soft pink, then crimson filled the spaces between the leaves. She left her perch and climbed to the ground.
The village was awakening, but Gina wasn’t yet ready to join the morning’s activities. A narrow path on the bank of a winding creek led deeper into the forest. She followed the trail, drawn toward the sound of falling water. The creek grew wider and flatter, then disappeared over a small cliff.
Gina waded across the stream and peered over the edge. A shining pool of water, churning with the impact of the falls, lay a short distance below. It was the perfect spot for a morning swim.
She scrambled down the rocks beside the waterfall. A brilliant sky, adrift with clouds, arched over the pond. Morning sunlight played on the rippling water. Rainbow colors shimmered in the spray of the falls, then disappeared into the shadow of a shallow cave, barely visible behind the curtain of water. Gina picked her way across the rocks to the far end of the pool, where the water washed in faint ripples upon a strip of sand. She untied her boots and slipped out of her dress. She left them on the bank and waded into the deepest part of the pond, sighing with pleasure.
Far off in the forest, a songbird called to its mate. Gina sluiced the clear water over her braids. Scooping up a handful of clean sand, she scrubbed her skin all over until it tingled. Then she dunked her head under the surface again and washed off the grit.
It wasn’t a hot shower and she didn’t have any soap, but she emerged feeling clean and refreshed. She retreated to the tiny beach and lay down on the sand. The sun felt so good on her naked body that she left her dress on the boulder while she looked up at the sky. Huge white clouds passed lazily across an impossibly blue canvas. Did the sky at home ever look this perfect? She didn’t know. She’d never taken the time to look.
The clouds enthralled her. Gina had always thought of a cloud as something colorless and static, sharply delineated, like the lumpy bubble of a child’s drawing. She’d never noticed a cloud’s fluid movement, the swirling mists of blue and pink and gold at its edges.
Eventually she closed her eyes. The sun was warm pleasant, the chatter of birdsong peaceful. She wondered where Derrin had spent the night, and if he was waiting for her.
Thinking of Derrin caused an ache to spring up between her legs. She let her hand drift toward it. She touched herself, circling one finger around her clit, imagining it was Derrin who touched her. The thought made her thighs go damp. She slid her fingers through the slipper folds, gathering the moisture. Then she returned to the tight, aching nub, stroking with an increased tempo.
The pleasure spiraled, grew. She shifted her hips, moving in time with her own rhythm. She was close, very close. Her free hand came up to pluck at one nipple.
Her climax spread over her in a sweet slow wave. She rode it, rocking her hips. All too soon it passed, leaving her warm and relaxed, but not quite sated. She lay still, her eyes closed, until a pebble dropped with a soft thud onto the sand beside her.
Startled, she sat up to see Derrin standing a short distance away, a hungry light in his eyes. Heat infused her cheeks. She picked up the stone and tossed it back at him. He caught it with one hand, then turned and skipped it neatly across the water’s surface.
“How long have you been spying on me?” she asked.
He grinned. “Long enough.”
He shrugged out of his shirt and began to unknot his kilt. When his clothes were in a heap on the ground, he turned to her.
“Let’s go for a swim.”
Her gaze dropped to his impressive erection. “Looks like you’re ready for more than swimming.”
He moved toward her. “I want you again, Gina. Now.” His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. “Come to me.”
Her legs felt suddenly weak. Derrin moved closer, his gaze dangerously intent. Gina’s choices were simple—fight or flight.
Or surrender.
She ran her hands up her body, from thighs to hips to breasts. Derrin watched, but made no move toward her. He was waiting, she realized. Waiting for her to go to him. She took one step, then another.
A third brought her into his arms.
He lifted her and settled her on a large boulder, legs parted, bare buttocks pressed against the warm stone. He stroked the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, circled his thumbs over the aching tingle her self-induced climax had left. Gina couldn’t find her balance on the boulder’s sloping, uneven surface. She slid toward Derrin, hands braced on his shoulders.
His fingers teased, featherlight in her curls, just beyond her aching need. Gina wriggled. Why wouldn’t he touch her where she craved it? She arched her hips, silently pleading.
His hands shifted, sliding up under her thighs until her buttocks were nestled in his palms. He lifted her higher, to the highest part of the boulder. His head dipped and he tasted her, his mouth hot, his tongue seeking.
“Oh, God.” Gina gasped at the burning intimacy of the contact. Derrin seemed to love to make her come this way, but Gina still found it hard to accept. His tongue seared her at her core, left her no place to hide. She tried to twist away, to control the flood of sensation. She succeeded only in sliding more fully into Derrin’s mouth. His hands burned, his lips and tongue played urgently upon her. She was tossed into the storm inside her, battered by waves of pleasure so intense they left her gasping for air. She twisted again, this time welcoming, pleading, reaching toward the goal that hovered just out of reach. It came closer. Her senses blurred.
Then Derrin’s cock was inside her, hard and pulsing. His scent was all around her, powerful and male. His mouth closing over hers and Gina tasted herself on his lips. She clung to his neck, felt the scrape of his skin beneath her fingernails.
Suddenly she was weightless. Derrin lifted her off the boulder, into his arms, pressing her firmly onto his erection. She wrapped her legs around him, moaning as he slipped deeper. He strode to the water, rocking inside her as he entered the pond. The cool current shocked Gina’s skin. She sighed as the clear water covered her legs, lapped at her breasts.
Derrin maneuvered them across the pool. The rush of the falls sprayed across them, taking Gina’s breath with it. Derrin pressed her into the shadows beyond the waterfall, pinning her against the slick wall of the cave. He drove into her with slow, powerful strokes.
Gina melted around him. She gave herself up, opening wide to his need and to her own. He took all she offered and demanded more. She moaned and twisted as Derrin went deeper and deeper into her, unrelenting. The rush of the falls sounded in her ears. She could feel nothing but his possession of her, think of nothing but her surrender to it. She clung to him, breathless, riding to the top of the spiraling eddy, her emotions twisting around her.
Derrin’s cry came at the edge the vortex. She called out his name as she fell with him.
Together, they crested the fury, and emerged onto gentler waters.
* * * * *
By the time they reached the village, the midday cooking fires were blazing. Derrin took Gina’s hand and guided her to Malia and her boisterous family. The Na’lara greeted the newcomers warmly. She introduced her partner and sons to Gina, then turned her attention back to her oldest boy, who was describing his morning hunt with great enthusiasm.
“It was the best throw I ever made,” Tolin said. “The rama was quick, but I aimed just ahead. It landed at my feet.” He held up his catch. “Sarrin would have seen it if he had not been in the cave of the ice stones.”
“Your skill honors the clan, my son,” replied Standing Deer.
“It will make a fine stew, Tolin, with the new shoots I gathered at the sun’s rising.” Malia dipped a gourd ladle into a wooden bowl and poured a mixture of pounded grains and water onto a flat rock at the edge of the fire. The batter sizzled, giving off a sweet aroma. Using a wide wooden spatula, Malia transferred the golden ashcakes onto bark plates and passed them around the circle. A bowl of berries followed.
“I can throw, too,” declared Lasha, who flitted like a butterfly between her brothers. “But I hate killing things.” Her bottom lip trembled.
“The animal and plant people give their lives for us,” replied her father. “Their bodies sustain us, and their spirits join with ours. We honor their sacrifice and ask their forgiveness.”
The little girl nodded. She looked at the dead animal. “I am sorry you had to die. Thank you.” She turned to Sarrin and gave him a bright smile. “Did you bring me an ice stone?”
“Of course, little one.” He picked up a small buckskin bag at his side, and drew out a flat prism about the size of his palm. Lasha took the stone and ran her finger along the smooth surface. She tilted it to catch the light and giggled. “It is like looking through ice.”
“May I see it?” Gina struggled to keep her voice calm.
Lasha placed the stone in Gina’s palm. Gina held it up to the light and scrutinized the jagged imperfection along one edge. She could hardly believe what she saw. Incredibly, it was a selenite specimen identical to the one in Madam Rose’s workshop. Which, in turn, had been identical to the one Gina had placed in her father’s coffin.
Impossible.
She brushed her fingers across the crystal’s glassy surface. Her hand tingled and her vision blurred.
Power. She sensed it, pulsing through the stone.
She touched the stone again, but this time felt nothing. Had she imagined the sensation?
“You can have it.” Lasha pushed her head up under Gina’s elbow, snuggling into her side.
“I wouldn’t want to take the gift your brother brought you.”
“I want you to have it. I like you.”
Gina put the selenite aside and pressed her hands together in the Baha’Na gesture of thanks. After the meal, she stowed the crystal among the fur blankets of her sleeping area. Later, as she and Derrin were wading through the stream, she asked him about the ice cave. He pointed to its entrance, high in the canyon wall.
“It’s a difficult climb, but worth it. The walls and ceiling shine. The crystals are never cut by the People, but
many have fallen and are piled on the floor of the cavern.”
“The stone Lasha gave me looks like one I saw in my own world, just before I traveled through the web.” She told him about Madam Rose and her predictions.
Derrin was intrigued. “The old woman must be a sorceress,” he said. “Perhaps she created the crystal.”
“Not likely,” Gina replied. “But even if she had, that doesn’t explain why it has a twin in your world.”
Derrin could offer no explanation.
“Could you use a crystal like Lasha’s ice stone to perform wizardry?” Gina asked.
Derrin shook his head. “The power of wizardry springs from the intention of the wizard as he creates the stone. Any power a natural crystal holds is hidden from human thought.”
“Are you sure? Have you ever tried it?”
“I don’t need to try it, Gina. The first wizards experimented with natural crystals, but failed to draw any power from them. A crystal becomes magic only after it is dissolved and rebuilt. The wizard’s will must be part of the lattice structure.”
The sun had disappeared over the top of the canyon wall by the time Gina and Derrin returned to the village. The clan had assembled for the evening meal. Two men called to Derrin, gesturing for him to join them.
He grinned and returned the greeting. “They’re my kinsmen from the Water Clan,” he said, angling toward them. At that moment, Malia caught her gaze. Gina left Derrin to the men and cut across the open center of the village to greet the Na’lara.
A very old man stood near her. Deep furrows accented the long line of his nose and the sharp slant of his cheekbones. Strips of hide bound his long white hair into a long queue. He turned his attention to Gina, black eyes glittering. Malia introduced him as Sleeping Harta, an elder of the clan. Gina pressed her palm to her forehead.
“Welcome, my child. I have heard of your journey from beyond the golden web. It is good you have come to seek the Goddess.”
Gina murmured her assent.
A shadow passed over his face. “You have known the Goddess in five of the Signs, and will soon know the sixth as well. But it is when you reach the Seventh that you will truly understand the loss of the People.”