by Luca Rossi
“The same idea applies to finding the place. Imagine throwing a stone into a pond. The ripples will move away from where the object touched the water. Studying the wrinkles in time, we'll be able to identify the point where the stone landed, the beginning of the new branch. And once we get those coordinates, we'll travel in that direction.”
Lil was upset. After the rock shards had come plunging down from the sky, the only solace she had found was staying within the reassuring walls of the Temple, a comfort now threatened by the priestess's proposal. She was afraid she didn't have the strength nor the skills to perform a task so far beyond the limits of her imagination.
“We'll stay together, don't worry,” Miril promised her sweetly, but this time, not even her telepathic sensitivity could soothe her.
“Miril, couldn't we just go alone and see what happens, then come back here and decide what to do?” Lil surprised herself with her own words. But it seemed right to be more cautious, given how delicate the situation was.
Miril, her eyes hopeful yet veiled with sadness, replied: “After looking through the sacred books, I went to the laboratory to see what elements we have available. I found some ancient urns that seem to contain the necessary materials, materials I don't think came from this island. Our ancestors probably brought them from the Northern lands. I did a quick calculation of how much we would need and, unfortunately, we only have enough material for a very limited number of trips through time.”
“And how many would that be?” Lil asked, terrified of the response.
“Only two. There and back.”
37
Bashinoir was annoyed. The night before, Lil and Miril had tormented him by asking lots of questions about what he had been doing lately, particularly what parts of the island he had visited and how far along he was in transferring the animals to the stables close to the Temple. Despite his reluctance to answer, and although they still continued with their questions, they remained kind and understanding, treating him as a problematic child who, for whatever reason, could not be scolded. To him, that false and condescending attitude was really intolerable. If they were mad at him for some reason, it would be better that they expressed it openly.
Did they find out? Considering they never leave the Temple, how would they know anything?
That day, he decided to go back to his old house, the little cottage where he and Lil had lived while waiting to build their new house. He lit a fire, took off his boots and comfortably settled into the rocking chair near the hearth. Opposite the fireplace, on the other side of the small yet cozy room, was the stove Lil used to cook over. A large table stood in the center. A staircase led to the little attic where their bed was. It hadn't been damaged badly by the shards of stone: there were only a few small holes that could be easily repaired.
Their bed. Just remembering it made him feel a deep pang of nostalgia for the nights they had kept each other warm, the nights when he enjoyed the sweet smell of his wife.
But now Lil was far away from him. She seemed even more beautiful and unobtainable, splendid as she shone in a new light, more alive than the flames that danced in front of him, her eyes as bright as two suns. There didn't seem to be any room for him in her new life. They hardly spent any time together during the day; and the priestess Miril was always around. Not only did the two women work together, but they had built up an unusually strong trust he felt excluded from. And what about him? The few times they had found themselves alone, just Lil and him, Bashinoir had wanted to laugh and joke around the way he used to, but he didn't feel good enough for her anymore and had assumed she wouldn't find his jovial remarks very funny.
Bashinoir would have given anything to feel his wife's eyes, full of desire, look at him how they used to, when she pretended like she wanted to run away, anxious for him to prove his manhood as he chased after her.
He closed his eyes, enjoying the crackling of the small fire in his ears and the heat of the flame that warmed his body and face.
He imagined his wife running out of the Temple and playing hide and go seek with him.
He rubbed one hand over his pants.
Lil kept running, turning around only to give him a naughty smile.
Bashinoir opened his fly and held his member in his right hand, stroking it.
Lil was hiding behind a corner, but when Bashinoir thought he had finally caught up with her, she had already disappeared. He looked around. A noise came from the spot where his wife was hiding. He anticipated her movements, heading towards a place where he would be able to cut off her escape.
His fingers firmly gripped his member as they rose and fell. It's been so long since I've had this kind of pleasure!
Bashinoir went and hid behind a wall. He heard Lil's footsteps as she walked, looking behind her shoulder. Without realizing it, she ended up right in his arms.
That sudden contact excited him immensely. His hand started to move more quickly. His breath accelerated.
Lil looked at him, helpless, her eyes begging him to set her free. He loved that look.
His hand accelerated.
He grabbed both of her wrists as his lips came down upon hers. Lil pretended to resist, then opened her mouth, letting his tongue enter. But suddenly Lil stepped back: “No! I'm a novice!”
Bashinoir felt horrible. Abusing a novice was one of the worst crimes imaginable. Yet Lil was so seductive. And their people were gone. It was only the two of them now.
His hand stopped moving. Had he just allowed himself to imagine taking a novice?
She used to be his wife, though.
He closed his eyes again as his hand resumed its movement.
Lil resisted. A girl in her position wouldn't give in easily, so Bashinoir took her in his arms and brought her to the bed in their room as she squirmed and kicked, unable to overcome his physical prowess. When he laid her upon the bed, she wriggled as if to escape, but her eyes betrayed a desire even stronger than his own.
“No, Bashinoir! You know I can't!” Lil scolded him, her voice teasing, her eyes mischievous.
Instead of answering, Bashinoir opened his pants, lifted up her dress and laid his body over hers. She squeezed her legs shut in resistance. Jutting his pelvis down, however, he was able to open her legs. He pushed in and penetrated her deeply.
At that thought, Bashinoir's hand moved in a fury, as if possessed. His penis was as hard as a rock and burned like the fire in the hearth.
Bashinoir moved in and out of her, matching the rhythm of his hand. Lil moaned, wet and excited, her eyes burning. Bashinoir possessed her as a real man would, letting all of his pleasure explode inside of her. Now she'd finally get pregnant, he hoped, and then there'd be at least one part of her husband she could never refuse. The image of his semen traveling through her excited him so much that Bashinoir's body stiffened, his hand finished a few final pumps and slowed down, just before he orgasmed. The image of his wife's sex, flooded with his semen, lingered in his mind.
At the peak of excitement, his hand lingered. Lowering it one last time, he ejaculated so forcefully that he squirted all over his shirt, up to his neck.
“That's for you, Lil,” Bashinoir announced, proud to dedicate such a beautiful moment of self-pleasure to the sensual beauty of his former wife.
He laid still, enjoying the sensation for a little while.
The fire had grown weak. His penis, covered with semen, and the stains on his clothes started to make him feel uncomfortable. He got up and looked for something he could clean himself with. He took an old rag and wiped off his clothes.
He finally left the house. He had enjoyed that delightful moment in his old home, and promised himself to come back soon. But what should he do now? He could start working, although it really wouldn't make much of a difference if he decided to wait one more day. He was in a better mood than usual, and it would be nice to maintain it. More than anything else he needed a little social contact, so he decided to go to where he was almost sure he'd find his friend,
the shadow.
38
So you two were able to save yourselves?
The setting sun illuminated the sky behind Bashinoir, who sullenly observed the shadow floating underneath the water in front of him. Their conversation was making him feel uncomfortable.
“Yes, we managed to survive. I think it was a miracle. The rock shards were falling everywhere. Looking back, I still can't believe they didn't hit us. I only got one little wound on my calf.”
Bashinoir stared out over the sea, observing how it grew darker in the distance. He took in a deep breath.
And the priestess? She managed to stay out of harm's way?
“She was in the Temple when everything happened.”
But didn't you tell me that everyone, even the priests, participated in the important rituals?
“I don't really know why she wasn't there. But I think it's just our tradition. It's normal for only one priest to be with us, while the other stays in the Temple.”
For the magical protections, right?
“Sure. I mean, to maintain the magical forces of the island, otherwise we'd be in danger. I don't understand much about it though. Us regular folks only know what the elders tell us about it.”
So the priestess was the one taking care of all of the magical protections at that moment?
“Yes. The priest was officiating the rites of union for the bride and groom.”
So she was protecting the island during the rites?
A sinister doubt came over Bashinoir. He wanted to raise his voice, but he feared losing the only friend he still had. He would have walked away, but then he'd have to think of something else to do for the rest of the afternoon. It was still too early to make an appearance back at the Temple.
“I don't know! We don't know anything about magical protections. We only know that the priests are the people who take care of those things!”
Of course, of course. Has something like this ever happened in the past?
Bashinoir's eyes followed the hypnotic movements of the shadow underneath the water. He dug his fingers into the cold sand, snorting.
“Why are you asking me all of these questions?”
Pardon me. I live alone and nobody's ever told me anything about temples, priests or magic before. But we can change the subject if you'd like. It's just that I'm a bit worried.
“Why?”
What if you're in danger? What if something happened to you? What would I do without you?
And what would I do without you? Bashinoir wondered. For a moment he forgot that the shadow could read his mind.
Our friendship is such a beautiful thing to me. I don't ever want to lose you.
“I don't want to lose you either. But I don't understand. Why are you worried about me being in danger? Do you think that what happened could happen again?”
No. Well, I mean, it depends...
“On what?”
See, that's what I don't understand! If your priests are so powerful, and one of them was even in the Temple protecting you, how could something like that happen without her even knowing about it?
That question hit Bashinoir like a punch in the stomach. He'd always had the feeling that something had gone terribly wrong on that cursed day and, deep down inside, he'd even started to resent the priestess. But he would never have dared to explicitly accuse her.
“You think she knew?”
I don't know. I have no way of knowing these things. But you told me before that the magical defenses have always been impenetrable. And it's strange that she didn't seem to be able to predict what was going to happen. Wouldn't a priest have been able to sense this sort of thing beforehand?
Bashinoir didn't have an answer. But he intuited that the shadow could be right.
Maybe afterwards, then, the priestess explained to you what had happened?
“Well, yes, she talked about the magical war with our enemies, about the subject of time...”
Did she explain why she wasn't able to warn you?
“No, she didn't.”
Hmm. This is all so strange. Maybe she didn't know it was going to happen. Or maybe she did know and just didn't want to tell you.
“But that makes no sense!”
Yes, you're right. Why would a priestess ever want to kill her own people? But now what does she want to do?
“She says we also need to travel through time. She said the only way to repair this messed-up reality is to go back in time.”
So she wants to leave the island?
“Yes, but we'll come back.”
Ah ha! That's it!
Bashinoir felt increasingly conflicted. He didn't need to formulate any thoughts, since the shadow could feel his emotions, and a particularly painful suspicion circled through his mind: Do you think she did all this just to get off the island?
I have no idea. I only know what you tell me. But who wouldn't want to spend their future far away from a frozen, isolated island, where you have to spend day and night doing nothing but magical rituals, without the warmth of another human being next to you?
“Lil!” Bashinoir bellowed, distraught.
That's what I was thinking too, but I didn't want to make you worry.
Bashinoir was beside himself with anger. All the pieces of the puzzle now fit together. Why hadn't Miril protected them? Why didn't she even warn them about what was going to happen? Why did she steal his wife away from him?
“But then why did she ask me to travel through time with her?”
Maybe she doesn't actually want to travel through time. Maybe she just wants to travel through space, to find a nicer place to live. Once the transport ritual has been completed, she'd be the one to decide what happens next. If she told your wife she'd rather leave you here, Lil wouldn't agree to it at all. So she's just acting like she wants to do the right thing. But there's no guarantee that all three of you would get to the same destination.
Bashinoir was livid. If that's what she's planning...He clenched his fists and stood up. He was going to set things right, once and for all.
Where are you going? Stop!
“Why?”
Don't hurt her, you don't have any proof that any of this is true. Besides, you need to be careful. She could start to use her magical powers against you. She's a priestess, she would surely win.
“So now what?” asked Bashinoir, rabid. “What should I do?”
You need to wait for the right moment.
39
Milia was on top of him, but she wasn't moving with her usual intensity. Just last night, that girl had driven him out of his mind. Yet now, this goddess of sex seemed to be out of it. After he orgasmed, she laid down beside him, her back to him, without doting on him as she usually did.
Beanor was enraged. Generally he would resolve this sort of problem by sending the girl out and calling in another one. But he still needed Milia. He was caught up in an unbridled passion, victim to a blind and inexhaustible desire that drove him to seek out the pleasures of her body every hour of the day.
She remained silent. He didn't know what to do. He wondered if he should ask her if something was wrong, but he had never been interested in the feelings of any of his subjects, even his wives.
They spent a few moments in awkward silence. Finally Beanor decided to approach the subject: “The weather these days is really making the ladies tired.”
No response.
That lack of respect humiliated him. He instinctively searched the room for his sword, which he usually liked to use to resolve such situations. But it wasn't the right time, not yet. He was sure he'd never find such a gorgeous body and fleshy rump anywhere else in the kingdom.
“I'm your wife. I'm nobody's slave!”
Beanor's jaw dropped. Nobody had ever dared to speak to the king in that manner.
His hands itched, yet he couldn't forget what he had experienced over the past few nights. No, he needed to stay calm. He didn't want to forgo the embraces that had made him feel things he had ne
ver felt before.
“What are you trying to say? The only person you have to serve is me!”
“I don't think that's really how it works.”
Arrogant, contrarian...How dare she? This haughty girl needs to be put back in her place!
Beanor was ready to make her understand the weight of his authority, but she turned around, tears streaming down her cheeks, and kissed him passionately. Then, her face barely an inch away from his, she told him: “Your Majesty, please, don't let me be a victim of that bully. I'll give you every pleasure in this world. You haven't seen anything yet, I've just begun to share my delights with you. But please, protect my days and I swear that your nights will be unforgettable!”
Beanor, caught by surprise, remained silent. He tried to think of who Milia could be referring to, but nobody came to mind.
He had no royal interest in the dissatisfactions of young women, but those tempting promises made him continue on: “Who dares to bother you during the day?”
“I think you know perfectly well who, your Majesty.”
Impudent! Never before in so many years had he found himself in front of such a shameless hussy.
“You nasty little -” he started to say, a rage coming over him.
But she kissed him even more passionately. She placed a hand on his member and started to move it down with an unbearably slowness, lowering her head to stare at it while continuing to stroke him. “Your Majesty, please, don't be mean to me. I need your help.”
“Carry on!” he ordered.
“Will you help me?” the girl asked, her movements still not accelerating.
“We'll talk about it later! Now get to work!” Beanor replied drily.
“No. I need to be reassured.”
Beanor's eyes burned: “Fine! Tell me what's bothering you!”
40
Nal casually glances at her little brother. He hates subterfuge. He hasn't noticed anything yet. He's completely absorbed in his work. He fulfills the requirements for the magical protections, and once again looks over everything he needs to keep safe. She knows he'll discover her move soon enough, but only after it's too late. He'll get angry. But that's how you learn.