Eyes of the Alchemist

by Janet Woods

  “Will you dance with me, Kavan?” she asked, smiling at him.

  There was a murmur when he led her on to the floor. A drum began to beat. His arm circled her waist and he gazed down at her. “You know this?”

  She managed a faint smile and nodded. Although dancing had been forbidden in the temple, the novices had danced when the guardians slept. She kept her eyes held to his when they began to circle to the rhythm. The tempo slowed and they moved face to face. Tension rippled gently through his muscles. Her hands moved up to his shoulders – his spanned her waist. When he drew her close against his body her every nerve became aware of him.

  “Tell me, Tiana,” he whispered against her ear. “How did you manage to dance on the high place and be in the market at the same time?”

  She couldn’t lie to him now. “I asked the wishing dish to send several images of me to partner each other and confuse you. I’m surprised it fooled you.”

  “It didn’t, but I wanted to hear it from your own lips,” and he rumbled with laughter.

  Warmth leached from his skin, bearing a subtle scent of sandalwood mixed with musk. The fragrance took over her mind. His very closeness dominated, drawing her into his presence so she became part of him. The pulses of his body pounded in time with hers. She moved with him, joined with his thoughts, and found his thoughts a concentration of all that was physical. The synergy of their movement was less the dance than the need of their bodies to familiarize with the other.

  “It’s time we retired,” he said, his eyes a smoky conflagration of amaranth.

  She murmured something deep in her throat, incoherent to herself but significant to him as a response. Sweeping her up in his arms he strode from the hall with her amid a chorus of cheers — cheers he didn’t seem to notice.

  She gazed up at him. His eyes were night-dark, enigmatic and concentrated on her. He was smiling a little. Perhaps, she thought, with the prospect of the conquest to come. He strode confidently through the corridors, carrying her without effort.

  Feelings swept through her body – feelings that had been alien to her until she’d met him. There was apprehension, but more exciting was her sexual awareness of him. The thread of connection came from a far deeper level, making her conscious of her own weakness and his strength.

  He bestowed on her a smile so wickedly tender that she thought her body might burst with the ripeness of wanting him. He entered his chamber and kicked the door shut behind them. Night had finally arrived, but framed in the open window was a dazzling display of shooting lights.

  “A present from the gods, perhaps,” he suggested when she murmured with delight.

  “Or friction. The convergence path is strewn with cosmic dust.”

  He set her on her feet, saying quietly. “We’ll not talk about my quest tonight.”

  Arms around each other they watched the display for a while and then he turned her against him. He slid the cloak from her shoulders and threw it aside. When her gown pooled around her ankles a cool breeze kissed her skin. His eyes took their fill of her, then his palms grazed against her jutting breasts, bringing them shockingly alive.

  She closed her eyes and forgetting her temple training enjoyed his caresses without guilt. Shy at first, as her body reacted to his touch with increasing delight she began to revel in its song. His mouth against her skin fired a trail of goosebumps, his tongue made delicious inroads until any shred of resistance fled and she was trembling and open to him.

  The breath he took was almost a shudder of ecstasy when she reached out to help him disrobe. He stood before her naked, god-like in his strength and beauty. When he pulled her gently against him she had no thought to resist – quite the opposite.

  For a moment her tongue touched against the salty hollow of his throat and the dormant pulse began to throb.

  “Later, you will take the time to know me” he said, and lifted her, so they were together but not joined. Her legs slid around his waist. He teased and excited her until the rigid tip of his maleness slipped gently into the moist depths of her. It was a moment of sublime surrender, of recognizing his need to conquer. Their eyes met for a moment, then he bore her down on to the bed.

  “Kavan, my Lord,” she whispered, her breath catching in ecstatic little whispers when his lips touched against hers.

  “Lord and master,” he urged, holding back so every nerve in her body went on hold instead of taking the lunge towards fulfillment.

  He was cruel, a tease. She wouldn’t say it!

  His tongue flicked inside her ear. “Say it, Tiana.” She turned her head to one side, refusing to answer. The chuckle he gave was like honey. He trickled tiny kisses over her breasts and when she wriggled the contact between them increased.

  Her breasts throbbed and her skin flamed from top to bottom. How could he hold back . . . how could he when they were so close that one tiny push . . .? She tightened her leg muscles and pushed. He groaned as the full length of him slid inside her.

  Closing around him she gave a cry of triumph. It was short-lived. Pinned to the bed she was at his mercy, and he made the most of it.

  Fifteen almost unbearably erotic tix later she panted. “Please, my Lord, and Master.”

  “Say it again.”

  “Lord . . . and master . . . my lord and . . .” Her voice dropped to a caress, for each time she said it he rewarded her until his tongue stopped her voice by stroking in and out of her mouth in a pounding, rhythmic tandem.

  The wild ecstatic cry she gave when they climaxed echoed with his deeper one. She lay against him, limbs entwined, her heart beating wildly against his. After a while he propped himself up on one elbow and gazed down at her. A smile danced around his lips. “You pleasure me greatly, Tiana.”

  “I did not think the act of loving would be a creation of such exquisite delight.”

  “Are you telling your lord and master you love him, Tiana?”

  She felt deliciously lethargic, as if she’d ingested too much desert honeycomb. She smiled. “Your imagination is as developed as your arrogance if it fires such lofty words into your barbarian ears.”

  He grinned and nibbled her swollen bottom lip. “No doubt I could make you say it.”

  “No doubt,” she mumbled. “Do you mean to consume me, Kavan?”

  “Completely. Will you mind?” His mouth moved to her throat then grazed downwards between her breasts and over her stomach.

  Taken by surprise she caught her breath in shock. “Oh!” A few minitix later came a softer, drawn out. “Oh, my love . . . no, I don’t mind at all.”

  Later, satiated beyond measure they lay quiet and drowsy in each other’s arms. Kavan was almost asleep; she could sense the slowness of his brain rhythms. “I didn’t see Rowena at your feast.”

  “Rowena was a traitor and she embraced death for her part in the uprising.”

  Although shock rioted through her she didn’t let it show, allowing him to drift into slumber. She slid out of his arms and gazed down at him, tears in her eyes. What manner of man was this who would kill his own mother? He was a paradox.

  Taking advantage of his vulnerability she entered his mind. She had to know.

  “Did you kill Rowena with your own hands, Lord?”

  He turned restlessly. “No, I could not. The troopers drew straws under the code of silence. She was persuaded to forfeit her life by her own hand. It was painless.”

  “And you think that absolves you of the responsibility?”

  “It’s not a question of responsibility but of Cabrilan law. I must put my quest above all others.”

  “Including me?”

  “One life is unimportant when the future of the many is at stake. Even mine.”

  Sick at heart she closed the contact. She had her answer. There was nothing more she needed to know.

  Sliding from the bed she snatched her bridal gown from the floor and pulled it over her head before quickly braiding her hair. The guard at the door was a man she’d cured of a broken arm in the
market place. Susceptible to mesmer, he would not remember her passing by.

  Drawing on her ever-growing magic powers she melted through the walls of the manor. Even with Kavan’s cloak around her shoulders the cold seeped through her bones. She shivered. She’d make good use of the wishing dish once she reached the alchemist’s tomb.

  The village was as quiet as the grave and the sky had a line of pale light on the horizon. As the yester had darkened gradually, so the day would lighten in the reverse.

  Truarc, she noticed, had moved marginally closer during the night. The silver convergence line could no longer be seen. Instead, a line of blackness stretched between them. She’d seen it before, but when?

  She was nearing the lake when she saw the swirl of dust and remembered. The portal had opened. Holding her breath she moved behind a shrub. Shadows moved in stealthy silence from the portal, amongst them the low shape of a Pitilan.

  She gasped, she couldn’t help it.

  Immediately, a hand grasped her by the braid and dragged her out. “Of all the luck, it’s Kavan’s woman, though what she’s doing abroad at this hour without a guard is anyone’s guess.”

  This was a face she recognized.

  “When this is over I might find time for a little sport with her.”

  “What you suggest is outrageous,” another voice said. “Tiana is the daughter of The High One and a virgin of the temple. She must be treated with respect.”

  Truarc men, she thought with a tremor of shock. How pompous they sounded after the rough camaraderie of Kavan’s troopers. But this trooper sounded too self-conscious to be anything but inexperienced himself.

  He hooted with laughter, like a child showing off for his companions. “If I know Kavan, her virginity will be long gone . . . and you seem to forget, The High One is only the titular head now. It is I who sets the rules.”

  “You represent Lord Kavan on Truarc,” she scorned, instinct telling her the trooper would not harm her. Despite his bluster, there was something likeable about him. Up close he was personable . . . and slightly familiar. Her mind sent her the information she needed. “Your disrespect towards me comes as a surprise.”

  He tugged her closer and stared down at her. “I have heard rumors on Truarc. What do you know of my father and his death?”

  “We did not come through the portal for personal revenge,” one of the Truarc with him protested. “We came as envoy to present a petition to Lord Kavan.”

  The sky was lightening around them. She engaged the trooper’s eyes – fine eyes, though his mouth had a petulant curve. His form was of immeasurable grace and beauty. “I have no knowledge of who sired you, Javros.”

  “You remember my name?”

  “Of course – and your bravery in the temple when you offered to sacrifice yourself to the Pitilan on your lord’s behalf.”

  Javros looked troubled. “That was the day you pleaded my case and Kavan staked his claim on you.”

  “My union with Kavan was written. But come, you haven’t told me who sired you.”

  “Vandrew, my lord’s chief adviser.”

  She had no knowledge of the death, but felt compelled to defend Kavan. “If your father died at Lord Kavan’s bidding it would have been for good reason.” Remembering Rowena, she said with less certainty. “There has been an uprising by the forces of Beltane.”

  His eyes narrowed in thought. “The augur did not advise me of any uprising, only that Vandrew died at Lord Kavan’s command. Yet he sent no advisement of this to me.”

  “You still call Kavan Lord. Perhaps I should inform you that the followers of Beltane left him chained in one of the ancients blow holes to be drained of blood by the dragon bats. If your father had a hand in the treasonable act then the reason for his death will be clear to you.”

  “I must defend and avenge his name.”

  “Think further, Javros. This could be a case of opposing loyalties and it might be the reason Kavan kept it from you. Are you confident of your ability to engage him in deadly combat?”

  Javros gazed down at the Pitilan with troubled eyes. “I know not what to think, for truly, I cannot imagine my father would involve himself with the followers, or commit such a desperate act. I brought the beast only as a show of protection.”

  “It’s my sire’s Pitilan and the only one left alive,” she said gently. “You know not its commands. They are bred only for defense and it will turn on you if you attempt to control it for your own evil.”

  “It was a foolish and cowardly gesture to bring it when your sire ordered me to take it to the kennel master for destruction,” he said with a show of shame.

  When she clicked her fingers the beast came to heel beside her. “Release my hair Javros. Go back to Truarc until you’re summoned. I’ll not speak a word of this to Lord Kavan.”

  Javros raised the braid to his lips. “My thanks for your counsel, Lady. I’ll be your slave for life.”

  They froze when Kavan appeared in front of them, puffed up with arrogance and menace. “Would you betray me also, woman?” he roared. His sword sliced between them and her head jerked free.

  Seized by a trooper and looking white-faced and miserable Javros stared at the long braid still gripped in his fist. Inconsequentially, he said, and it sounded like censure. “I would not have harmed a hair on your lady’s head.”

  “That’s what makes me the leader and you the follower. Her hair is no great loss and it’s a fitting indignity to wear it thus for a woman who betrays her true husband.”

  She took a deep breath and braved his anger. “Javros admitted he was misguided and he’s truly repentant. He would have done you no harm.”

  Kavan’s look flayed her nerves to shreds. “So, woman, you plead his case a second time.” He nodded to the trooper and Javros was hustled away. The tip of his sword touched against her throat. “Give the command.”

  She knew to what he referred. She could order the Pitilan to rip out his throat, and he knew that too, but not before he had time to decapitate her. She obeyed his order. Soon, the Pitilan was writhing in its death throes. When it was almost dead he sliced off its head with one stroke. She shuddered. His sword was kept finely honed.

  Kavan jerked his head towards the portal. “You Truarc, return from whence you came. There is no time for petitions. Tell The High One the edge towns must be evacuated of people immediately. Now the portal is open I’ll send a squad of Cabrilan troopers to enforce my order.

  He waited until they’d gone then gazed down at her, his eyes glittering and merciless. “So this is how you repay my forbearance and kindness to you. Before this day is through you’ll learn what having a master means. Follow me back to the manor. A public beating will bring you to heel.” He strode away, all bristling male affront, and giving every indication he expected her to obey.

  Public beating! She would rather die than be humiliated in that way. She was only a few steps from the lake. Picking up her skirts she sprinted towards it. She noticed the sand had reshaped into rock again. Kavan had created an illusion to trick her into going down to him. He’d led her to believe he cared for her, when all he’d wanted was to have her in his bed and plant his seed into her womb. She would not even think about it . . . she would not!

  Scaling the rocky slope was easy, though she knew every foothold. The fall poured over the top with increased vigor, creating an icy draught that made her cloak billow. Thank Assinti for Kavan’s arrogance. He was too used to being obeyed to bother to look back. She was scrambling along the rocky ledge when he noticed she’d gone.

  “Tiana!”

  Her name echoed off every rock in a fury of sound. Birds rose in fright from the trees and the ground seemed to quake. She crawled under the fall into the cave, picked up her sack and retreated to the rear, gripping it against her chest and shaking with nervous tension.

  Gradually, it dawned on her. She needn’t have been frightened of Kavan’s wrath. He might be angered but he’d never hurt her. All the same, he needed to
be taught a lesson. She would not allow him to intimidate her. He could apologize before she’d go to him again.

  After a while she began to shiver. She needed warmer clothing. Misery crept into her chest when she slid her hand into her bag. Her fingers had just closed around the wishing dish when it disappeared. Drawing her knees up to her chest she ran her fingers over her mutilated hair and began to weep quiet tears of despair.

  “Crying is not going to help,” she muttered, and dashing the tears away she stood up. She’d call on Santo for advice.

  But it was not Santo who came it was the spirit of the alchemist. “I thought you’d gone to Kavan.” he grumbled.

  “Where’s Santo? I need his help.”

  “He’s performing some tasks I’ve set him, and I’ve got better things to do. Leave my tomb. Go back down to the manor, where you belong.”

  Behind him was the body of the alchemist. The spirit was nothing like the original body, which was a thousand times more dignified in both appearance and mien. If it wasn’t for the opaline eyes . . .? She gazed at a dent in the cushion. It was if someone had once sat at his feet . . . and that someone could have plucked the eyes from the body. The stray and elusive thought she'd lost earlier, surfaced and strengthened. Nerves prickled down her spine. “A spirit doesn’t need eyes to see,” she exclaimed. “You’re not the alchemist. Who are you?”

  Her companion hissed in annoyance. “I’m Finn, the apprentice who was entombed with him.” He waved a hand at the alchemist. “I sat on that cushion for thousands of years gazing up at the master in adoration. Gradually, I worked a spell. His eyes fell into my lap, thus I was able to trap him in another dimension and live again. It was not easy, especially when Kavan was nosing about. I had to split myself in two, not a comfortable task.”

  “It wouldn’t be easy to fool Kavan.”

  “You were easy to fool, my dear. I enjoyed our little meetings.”

  She recalled the verse and cried out. “You have the eyes. You must give them to Kavan so he can save the people from destruction.”