by Lexi Johnson
Some part of her -- the same part that had allowed her to see the portal in the mushroom circle that connected Aranion’s world to hers -- recognized that the emotion was not her own, but his.
Sade turned her head and kissed him. She wanted to tell him that he had nothing to feel sorry for. But how could she reveal that she was somehow feeling his emotions? Wasn’t that an invasion of privacy of the greatest degree?
Not now, she decided, letting her eyes drift shut. She was too tired to have such a serious conversation. And, in spite of the dangers that surrounded them, Sade felt safe in Aranion’s embrace.
Chapter 6: Taken
Aranion woke to the unmistakable sound of hands clapping in slow, mock applause.
“Kudos to you, Aran," said a familiar voice. "So this is how you’ve occupied yourself, while the whole kingdom scours the outer woods for your sorry soul.”
Even if Aranion hadn’t recognized the voice of his bond-brother Meldigur, the sharp-eyed elf was one of the very few who could have come so close without stirring Aranion’s defenses -- at least, under normal circumstances. Aranion had to admit that his defenses were not, right now, at their highest.
In truth, it was a stroke of luck that Meldigur had found them. Any other elf would have already bound Aranion with magic while he was slept, and dragged him back to the king without saying a word.
Sade stirred at the sound of Meldigur’s voice. “Aranion?”
“Not quite,” Meldigur said.
Sade’s body tensed, and her eyes opened. She curled in on her body in a futile attempt to cover herself. “Who are you, then? And would you mind giving us a minute to get dressed?” she demanded.
Meldigur burst out laughing. “Oh-ho! She’s a feisty one. Where’d you come across a mortal?”
“How is that your business?” Aranion asked, at exactly the same moment that Sade said, “He saved my life."
Before Aranion could speak, she went on quickly: "My ex was chasing me. He and I ended up crossing through your gate by accident. And when Aranion saw my ex chasing me, he stopped him before he could hurt me.”
Aranion was startled. Sade was telling a highly edited version of the truth, one that failed to mention his own crossing over into her world and skirted the fact that Aranion had killed the mortal. Sade’s story was almost to a lie. But it was a version that would protect him from punishment for what he’d told her was a crime for his people: crossing the Veil.
Meldigur turned to Aranion. “So, is that how it happened?” he asked.
Sade said, “Yes.”
Meldigur kept his eyes on Aranion, and gave him a long, searching look. Finally, he nodded. “Well, she’s a pretty thing. Tell me you’ll share her,” he added.
“No!” Aranion placed his hand over Sade’s hip, pressing her closer to him. “Sade’s mine.”
Meldigur sighed. “You’ve always been so particular about your possessions...”
“Who the hell are you?” Sade demanded, sitting partway up and crossing her arms over her breasts. “I’m not anyone’s possession.”
“Say that again when the geis Aran put on you has been removed.”
Sade looked up at Aranion. His heart ached at the betrayal in her soft brown eyes. “I thought you said it was only so we could talk.”
“It is only so we can talk,” Aranion said. “You can understand Meldigur, can’t you?”
Sade’s eyes narrowed. She leaned close to him and whispered, “But, last night…what did you do to me?”
“No more than what you did to me,” Aranion said. He would have to tell her now, though he’d rather have done it while they were alone.
“We’ve bonded,” Aranion said, reluctantly. “Well, in truth, there was already a bond set between us, and last night we consummated it.”
“What?!” Sade’s eyes widened. “What does that mean? What kind of bond?”
“Our souls called to each other across worlds,” Aranion said. “And now our souls are joined.”
Sade blinked at him. “So…it’s like we’re soul-mates?”
The words were correct, but the meaning that the geis ascribed to the word seemed slightly off. What they shared was more than a deep friendship. Aranion started to explain, “I’m not—“
“This is lovely, both of you,” Meldigur cut in. “And all very sweet. But Aran, do you have any idea what your father is going to do to you when he finds out you’ve formed a soul-bond with a mortal? And three days before your wedding?”
“Wedding?!” Sade sat up, dislodging Aranion’s hand from her hip and thus breaking the physical connection between them. “You’re engaged?”
“It’s not my choice!” Aranion tried to explain. “You have to understand—“
“I don’t have to understand anything. Hand me my shirt,” Sade ordered, pointing to the haphazard pile of clothes near the inner wall of the hollowed out tree in which they’d taken shelter. She glared at Meldigur. “And I’m not going to try and figure this out butt-naked in front of your friend.”
“Oh, it’s no trouble for me,” Meldigur said.
“Turn around,” Aranion said, putting venom into his voice -- his fury, not at his friend, but at the situation in which they were all now trapped. “I mean it, Mel.”
“If you try to escape," Meldigur said, "I will have to hurt you,” Meldigur said. "I’m taking liberties already, simply by talking with you.”
“I know,” Aranion said.
For all of his games, Meldigur, truly was taking a risk by not bringing Aranion back immediately. He must not even have alerted anyone else, considering that none of the other rangers had yet arrived to his aid.
“Just give us a chance to get clothed,” he requested. “I know we aren’t much for modesty, but it makes mortals uncomfortable.”
Meldigur hesitated. “I’ll do it, this once,” he said. “But if you run, I won’t make things so simple for you when I capture you again.”
“I won’t run.”
Meldigur nodded and turned his back.
Aranion wished he’d had the time to explain this entire thing thoroughly, and in the proper order. It was bad enough to have to shock Sade not only by informing her about their soul bond, but also immediately after the engagement. An engagement that, now, surely could not become marriage -- not with Aranion’s soul bound to another.
As awful as it was to have been caught by Meldigur, to have dragged Sade into this mess, the bond they had formed might also be their way out. If Aranion was bonded to another, even if it was a mortal, he wasn’t free to wed Princess Lairelithoniel. How could she want a husband whose loyalties lay with someone else?
Surely, all he would have to do was explain this and make them all understand. But first, he had to make Sade understand.
Aranion leaned over and grabbed Sade’s mortal clothing. The memories of the previous night seemed to cling to their alien textures, and Aranion felt himself stirring to shameful life as he handed her her things. He averted his gaze, and tried to distract himself by looking around for his trousers. Sade was right about not having this kind of discussion with his bond brother while naked.
When they had dressed, Aranion said to Meldigur, “You can turn around now." A thought occurred to him, and he added, "We have some soup. It will still be warm. Unless you’re going to drag us back now, before you’ve heard the whole story.”
Meldigur shook his head. “An hour or two won’t make any difference, so long as you give me your word that you’ll come back with me. Your word that you won’t run again until we speak to your father.”
Aranion took a deep, considering breath. Once he gave his word, he would be physically unable to go back on it. But what choice did he have? Meldigur had found them, and, with Sade to take care of, Aranion would hardly be able to throw off his bond brother. The only way he’d managed it the first time was because he’d gotten Meldigur drunk on moonflower wine and waited until his bond brother had fallen a
sleep before making his escape.
“You have my word,” Aranion said.
The geis of his promise settled on him, and Aranion knew he’d lost his chance at escape.
At least until he reached his father’s court. Until he spoke with his father...
A man with whom he’d had five full conversations -- three of them regarding his wedding, in which Aranion’s concerns had been wholly ignored -- in the past ten years.
“Good,” Meldigur said. Aranion didn't feel so good about it, but he let it pass.
“Now," Meldigur went on. "I’m assuming you didn’t make away with a full set of utensils to go with that pot you stole?”
Aranion shook his head. He had his personal knife, a cup, and a single spoon, the last two of which he’d planned to give Sade when they shared their meal. “Just these,” he said, taking the cup and spoon from his pack.
“Well, I’m sure we can manage something,” said Meldigur.
It was clear from his tone and expression that he intended to show off. Meldigur’s greatest talent was kenning: transforming one item into a perfect copy of another, at least for a short time.
And show off he did. First, he took the spoon and cup and placed them on the ground. Then he quickly found two sticks and two stones of similar size to the cups and spoons.
He took the cup first, holding it between his palms and making his hands glow – a wholly unnecessary effect for a simple kenning task like this. Then he took the stones, one after the other and transformed them.
Watching a kenning was always a little strange. The object itself seemed to shimmer and turn into liquid as it re-formed; then it would once again become solid, and take on the exact appearance of the original, though the size might vary depending on the size and mass of the transformed object.
Sade gasped at the first transformation, which Meldigur completed with a complex fluttering of his fingers, as though the motion had extinguished the light.
“Stop fooling around,” Aranion said, not at all enjoying Sade’s rapt interest.
Meldigur ignored him, of course. He handed over Sade’s cup with a nod. “My Lady,” he said. “I would address you by your name, but I fear Aran might choke me where we sit -- and then where would we be?”
Sade took the cup. She held it up to the light and turned it around in her hands.
“That’s incredible!” she said. “It was a rock before, and now…” Her breath had quickened. She glanced at Aranion, and then back at the cup. “This really is magic, isn’t it?”
Aranion couldn’t help feeling some resentment. After all, he had crossed the border between worlds, vanquished her attacker, and brought her here -- and together they’d formed a soul-bond… something far rarer and more precious than a mere kenning, no matter how masterfully performed.
“Oh, Aran looks like he’s swallowed a prickly-pear!” Meldigur said with a laugh. “Don’t worry, Aran. I’m sure you’re still first in her heart.”
As he spoke, he kenned the other objects with far less artistry. He handed Sade the second spoon, and took the third set for himself.
“All done,” he said, handing Aranion the cup and spoon he’d originally brought. “Now, why don’t you tell us all about this soul-bond? And the rest of the tale?”
Aranion opened the elven pot, and poured the soup into three parts, into each of their cups. Half the pot still remained when he had finished. The pot was spelled so that the food inside would stay fresh and warm for days, and gentle wisps of steam floated up from the cups as they began to eat.
Sade hesitantly put the first spoonful into her mouth. Then she smiled with obvious delight. “This is great!”
“Yes,” Meldigur said, “Aran’s always been a passable cook. But now, bond-brother, you have some things you need to share…”
Aran nodded.
This was dangerous ground. He could not lie. But nether could he risk revealing that he’d crossed into the mortal world, however briefly -- especially since he had taken a life there.
So he thought back, and began at the start: at the hand-fasting ceremony where he’d first met Lairelithoniel.
“I admit,” he told them, “I spied on her briefly before the ceremony. She was talking with someone, but they had a geis of silence between them, and I couldn’t hear what they spoke about.
“While they were talking, she called one of the birds of the upper canopy to her. As I watched, she whispered something to it -- before she ripped free its primary feathers, one by one, and tossed the bird off of the ledge. The poor thing flapped madly, but without the flight feathers, it plummeted.”
And how the princess had giggled, hiding her teeth behind her hand, her face sharp with delight. Aranion shuddered at the memory.
“I swear by all the Gods, I felt that bird’s terror and pain right up to the moment it died. Whatever mask the Bane Sidhe are putting on to foster this pretense of peace between us, it is a lie. Their ways are all deceit and betrayal. We cannot allow this taint into our home.”
Meldigur’s face had lost all mirth. He nodded seriously. “And that’s when you decided to run?”
“No,” said Aranion. “That’s when I spoke with my father. I wouldn’t have betrayed his sworn promise without speaking with him first.” He sighed. “But ever since Herion died, and his successor has been interpreting the Gods’ signs, things have…changed.”
Meldigur’s eyebrows rose sharply. “Are you saying Talathion is manipulating the signs?”
Aranion shrugged. “He’s young. Far too young for the job. That’s what I’m saying -- and I’m not the only one. But, as you know, my father believes that if he follows the Gods’ path exactly, he will find a way to bring my mother back from her endless sleep. And Talathion is aware of this too.” He shook his head. “It’s not a good situation, however you view it.”
“So, you would claim to know better than the Gods?”
“I know evil when I see it,” Aranion said decisively. “If I stayed and participated in this farce of a marriage, it would give the Bane Sidhe free rein -- as family -- to intrude in our halls. Then, unavoidably, their ways would taint ours. They wouldn’t need to conquer us. They could simply devour us from inside. Our people would be left as what the Bane Sidhe already are: only a beautiful shell, around a rotting core.”
Sade had been listening intently, looking from one to the other. Now she said, “So… Your marriage is arranged?” She seemed to have grown calmer. “That’s not right at all.”
Aranion shrugged. “It’s how things are done,” he said. “We don’t marry for love, though love can develop as a result. And a husband or wife may take pleasure as they will, and any children of such unions are met with joy and respect. To tell the truth, it’s so difficult for us to have children that any child is welcome. But…” He paused. “A soul-bond is a different thing.”
“It had better be,” Sade said. “If you’re with me, you’re with me and only me.”
Meldigur coughed. “Well, you mortals aren’t so long-lived as we are.”
Aranion was no longer so sure that was the case, as much as that time there moved more rapidly than time did on this side of the Veil. What would have happened to his lifespan, if he’d crossed over and stayed? Would he have lived only a mere 70 or 80 years?
“So, it’s like dating a vampire?” Sade said. “Like on that show? You’ll stay young and beautiful, while I get old and die?”
“Not if you stay here,” Aranion quickly assured her. He’d learned that much from his childhood lessons about mortals. “But,” he added, “when you go back, whatever intervening time has passed in your world will soon settle in your flesh and spirit. That is why it’s so dangerous for mortals to cross over for more than a short time.”
“I—“ Sade’s eyes widened. Her voice caught. “So you’re saying even when the gate opens again, I might still be trapped here?”
“Trapped?” Aranion echoed dumbly.
&nbs
p; The thought that Sade would feel trapped with him was startlingly painful. Although, of course, that was essentially what had happened. It was why he had tried to resist the bond -- why he had tried to send her back through the gate before it closed.
“I never intended to keep you here against your will,” he said.
“But now we’ve got this soul-bond thing, right?” she said urgently. “And time is passing faster in my world than here? That’s what you said.”
“Yes,” he explained, “but it’s not that simple. I don’t know how quickly time passes there. You might have a moon -- a year, even -- before it becomes too late.”
“I might? Maybe?” Her hands had started shaking as she gripped her cup. “That’s not good enough,” she said. “I have to go back, somehow.”
She looked at Aranion. “I’m not trying to leave you, but…” Her eyes were shining, and she bowed her head. “God—the cops—the blood. Charles – my brother… he’s going to think I’m dead! They’re going to think Michael took me somewhere and killed me! I can’t leave it like that. I can’t.”
“I—“ Aranion could hardly breathe or think through the waves of pain, guilt and fear that Sade was projecting through their bond.
He had never considered this complication. He had been prepared to leave everything he’d ever known; he had already come to terms with that. But when Sade had chosen to cross the gate, it had been without any understanding of the consequences. Of course, she must have family and friends among her own people. And now, minute by minute, they were growing farther and farther away.
“How long before I’ve been here too long?” she said. “That gate opens when the moon is full…my aunt told me that.” She sat upright suddenly, as if struck by a thought. “Oh, God! I bet that’s what happened to her. She was here, wasn’t she? She wandered through, and she stayed too long!”
“I don’t know,” Aranion said. Sade’s hands were still gripping the cup. He reached out to cup them in his own.
“We’ve had mortals come through to our world before,” he told her. “If they end up in the hands of the Bane Sidhe, terrible things can happen to them. To be truthful, we Sidhe like to play our games with them as well, but…we don’t hold cruelty as our highest form of pleasure.”