Etienne felt Myri rise tight against him, then her fingers pulled him hard to her before her entire body trembled only to go rigid, then tremble again.
He felt her down below and soon his own control wavered then broke as his long deep strokes shortened, hesitated, then plunged forward with all his might, and she held him to her as his passion spent itself in great, hitching spasms.
In time they released their tight grip upon each other, and they kissed deeply before smiles broke like the dawn upon both their faces.
They laughed for the sheer delight of one another, then their laughter died away as passion came back to drink once more at the fount of their youth and desire.
This time the experience was slower, more deliberate, and their eyes stayed wide, their pupils large, open and filled with nothing but the image of the face before them. They watched each other as exquisite agony and anticipation broke upon their brows; they watched as their expressions grew so very serious, frowning before the dam broke beneath them once again.
Myri held his head upon her lap, and she smiled as she watched him sleep.
Etienne’s lashes were deliciously long, the kind that any woman would beg, borrow, or steal for, and they seemed a fitting way to frame the pale grey of his steady regard.
She sighed then brushed a lock of hair from his forehead. She looked over his body as he lay there in satisfied somnolence, sated after what they had done.
His body was magnificent. She knew there was no other word more deserving of the man who had made love to her only a short time before. She knew, also, that he would ever be the measure against which she would see all other men the rest of her life, and that not one of them would come close to the sheer and careless beauty of the alchemist’s son.
“It is forbidden to me. I know. Yet I also know that I cannot do otherwise.”
Her words were quiet and meant for no one if not for herself. Then Myri placed her palm carefully across Etienne’s brow. She closed her eyes and her lips moved as she spoke silent words in a language so rare and unknown that none save one for a thousand leagues round could have guessed their meaning.
Through her fingers, a golden light shimmered and then dimmed. She opened her eyes then dipped her head to him and kissed the place where her hand had been.
“Sleep on, beloved. Dream of me if you will, and I will rest content in the knowledge of what I have just placed in your mind.
“It lies apart from your memories, deeply hidden except in need. For all the rest of your days, you shall know the way to find my home and that no matter what might befall either of us, we shall never be truly lost to one another.”
Myri closed her eyes and smiled at what she had just done. She had been told that sorcery in the alchemist’s son’s presence would lead only to disaster, but she no longer believed what her mother had said. Instead, she believed that the bonds between her and Etienne were stronger than any risk and worth chancing the worst of hazards.
Then Myri started and opened her eyes wide.
In the haze of her delight for him, she had forgotten the warning required if Etienne should ever try to seek her out.
“The spell has been cast and the counsel that should have come with it forgotten,” she whispered as she bent down to his ear, “Listen, my dreaming man, and heed what I say.
“‘Ware the Watcher, dear Etienne. Come to me with a clear heart and a bright eye and it will do you no harm. It does not obey me, and my mother will suffer no one of ill will come to our home. One day, the Watcher shall be under my rule and then you will need not fear it. But that day is not yet here, so tread lightly and smooth your angry brow before you set foot for the marshlands of my home.”
Myri frowned, and she did not find again the calm of only a few moments before. The warning should have been given as she whispered the incantation. In that way, it would have been as clear and unforgettable as the knowledge Etienne would need to find her.
She took a deep breath and hoped that some remnant of magic had lingered long enough to carry the rest of her message.
But, more than this, she hoped with all her heart that it would never come to that and that they would never find themselves apart.
She could not have known that her wish was without hope and that destiny had other intentions for both of them ...
Chapter Ten
The following morning, Etienne had woken early.
The day was a bright one, tarnished only by the fact that his father paid him so little attention when he had gone up to check on him. Oddly enough, Etienne asked him how went his research and instead of pleasant surprise, his father’s response was dismissive at best.
Etienne simply shrugged and went down the tower stairs to break his fast alone. He knew that when his father was deep in his work, there was little point in trying to strike up a conversation. The most one could hope for from the Alchemist then was a distant stare or, perhaps, a few mumbled words with little bearing on whatever had been asked.
It did not matter, though. Nothing could have soured the morning as far as Etienne was concerned.
He would return to his own work after having neglected it for far too long.
When they had gone their separate ways at last the day before, Myri had told him she could not meet him the following day as she had done since they had first met.
“But why?” he had asked, “How shall I bear an entire day without you?”
Myri had laughed as they walked hand in hand to the forest’s edge.
“You will bear it because there is no choice. As to why, it is because I must find the Boar. Certain distractions ... “ and she had nudged him as they walked, pushing him off balance for half a step, “... have resulted in my losing his trail.”
Etienne had fallen silent at the subject of the beast. It was the best he could manage and bit his tongue instead of claiming once more that magic and monstrous beasts did not exist.
Instead, he had looked into her eyes for a long moment, then he kissed her tenderly before leaving her to return to the tower of his father and his father’s fathers before him.
So the morning was his and Etienne’s thoughts turned to the stones that still resisted his efforts.
The courtyard of the tower was surfaced in hard cobblestones, and scattered about were the remains of Etienne’s travails. There lay stones of various sizes and shapes, most of them shot through with veins of rich colors that shined under the bright sky.
Without giving it much thought, he went in search of his tools, those that Bellamere’s father had fashioned for him and, in short order, Etienne was obliged to take off his shirt as he hammered stroke after stroke upon hard surfaces that would eventually yield their secrets to his unwavering determination.
It had been a long while since he had last discovered a heartstone, and he was sure that it would please his father if he could find another after all this time.
Secretly though, he wondered if there were none left for him to find, which was why he had ordered such heavy tools from the blacksmith. A few stones still refused to break before his hammer and Etienne had convinced himself that, perhaps, one of them hid in its center a heart of crystal that would put a smile on his father’s face ... for a little while, at least.
Etienne struck again and again at those stubborn stones and eventually, one after another, they broke at last under his heaviest hammer.
Finally, he turned to the one that had not broken the day Bellamere had delivered the new tools, then thought better of it.
Instead, he set his hammer down and would wait for his full strength to return and his heart to calm. Then, he would strike the thing with all his might.
That was when he heard the unmistakable jingle of a mule fitted with tack and laden with a load.
Strangely, he did not hear the usual creak and groan of the blacksmith’s cart along with the sounds of the mule.
Curiosity got the better of him and Etienne went to look out at the only road leading to the tower.
He smiled at what he saw there, then he walked with broad strides to the side of the portly young man who stood next to the mule.
His face was sweaty and red, but there was no mistaking his good friend.
“Louf!”
Etienne clapped a hand to Bellamere’s shoulder.
“Ah, it’s good to see you. But what are you doing without your cart? It’s a long way from Urrune when you’re used to riding a buckboard rather than walking.”
The blacksmith’s son nodded and gulped.
Etienne understood. His friend was out of breath, so instead of scrutinizing him too closely and in guise of letting him catch his breath, Etienne looked to the sky, closed his eyes, then stretched his arms over his head.
They both heard the joints of his spine crack as Etienne leaned back. Then they both laughed for there was no other response needed when there were bright, blue skies overhead and a good friend to speak with.
“Aye. There’s no denying it,” Bellamere said, “It’s a fair ways longer than I thought, but that’s the way of it, I suppose. As for the cart, I decided I wouldn’t need it where I’m going.”
Etienne frowned.
“And where might that be, Louf?”
Bellamere’s face grew serious then and he said, “Well, my father has finally gone and done it. He turned me out, so I’m off for Barristide to see if I can make my way in the world.”
The alchemist’s son shook his head. He had been on the verge of telling his friend all about the beautiful woman named Myri, but what he heard then chased all thought of her from his head.
“What do you mean ‘turned you out’?”
Bellamere nodded.
“Aye. I always knew it was coming. But still it was a shock when he actually said the words. Simon’s to take my place since he’s already taken it and I wasn’t ever sorry that he did.”
He scuffed the ground with his foot before continuing.
“A scribe’s life is the one for me. Not that of a blacksmith.”
“No, of course not,” Etienne replied, still frowning.
“My thinking is that Barristide has need of lettered men and with some luck, I might fall in with a guild thereabouts. Eventually, I think I’d like to go on to Lutèce.”
Etienne shook his head. He could not imagine his friend making the journey so far north to the capital city, let alone to Barristide.
“But Louf, a journey like that is a hard one. Do you really think this is for the best?”
At last, Bellamere smiled.
“It is for the best. I know it is. I’m going to live my life the way I want, Etienne. After all this time, I am not just going to read about great adventures. I’m going to live one.
“And that reminds me,” he said, before going to the mule and rummaging about in one of the many sacks tied over the poor beast’s back.
Apparently, he found what he wanted, then turned around with a book in his hands and held it out to Etienne.
“Here. Your father lent me this and I could not leave in good conscience without returning it to him.”
“Of course,” Etienne said absently.
“And how goes it with your father? Perhaps I should go up and return the book myself?”
The alchemist’s son roused himself at these words and shook his head.
“No, Louf. There’s no need to climb all those steps to see someone who won’t even notice you’re there. Best save yourself for the road ahead.”
“Ah. That’s the way of it then. At his research, as usual.”
“No, not as usual,” Etienne replied, “It was only a few days ago that his foolishness nearly killed him. I had to haul him back inside after he had been blown out the window.”
Bellamere’s eyes went wide and round.
“My word. What blew him out there?”
“Oh, you know. His great procedure. His life’s work. Which ended in failure, of course. Naturally, my father can’t accept that he will never succeed, saying instead that the explosion was due to the quality of light.”
“Quality of light? What a strange thing with such terrible consequences,” the smith’s son mumbled, then brightened and said, “As it happens, that very book brings up the subject of light and reminded me of something someone said to me often ... ‘the subtle light of the abyss overhead’. Or was it ‘the subtle light of darkness’?”
This time, it was Etienne’s turn to scuff the dirt with his boot instead of looking his friend steadily in the eye.
Bellamere laughed.
“Oh, not to worry. That ‘someone’ has gone and disappeared. I might say that I doubt I’ll ever see him again.”
Etienne looked sharply up at his friend before realizing he had not once seen him looking at someone who was not there, nor had he seen him swat or kick at a thing only he could see.
“Do you think this is because you have decided to leave and seek your fortune in the city, Louf?”
“Ah, Etienne. You don’t want to come right out and say it, so I will. Has my madness fled from me at last? As to that, I don’t know, nor do I care all that much. For now, I have my future before me and the sense that I have been waiting all my life for something else has come to end, Etienne. That is what is important.”
Etienne’s serious face grew even more serious as he asked, “And money, Louf? What shall you do for the way is long and the larder you’ve packed onto that poor beast will last only so far?”
“Not to worry,” Bellamere said, then fished a tiny sack from one of his pockets. It jingled, but the sound was a pitifully quiet one.
“But that is nothing. You’ll never manage with just that, Louf,” said Etienne as he thought to himself that even if his friend no longer saw people who were not there, his judgment remained suspect.
“No, this is but a decoy in case I cross paths with brigands on the route. The real treasure is here,” and he patted a haunch of meat that hung among his various affairs.
“Louf, that ... “ and Etienne searched for the right words before saying, “... looks less than palatable and far from being the treasure you think it is.”
A wide grin was Bellamere’s response.
“Yes, that’s the point. The genius of the thing. My father gave me the whole sack of coin you paid him so I can travel and pay my way once I arrive at Barristide for simple lodging and probably for quite a long time if I’m frugal about it. But to keep the money safe, I took a saw to this stringy excuse for a haunch of meat, cut it in half, hollowed it out and hid that sack of coin inside. After that, it was a simple matter to wind some old cord around the whole and then drag it around on the ground to dust it up a bit.”
Etienne grinned wide and clapped Bellamere on the shoulder for the second time.
“Okay, Louf. I think you’ve got something there. I doubt even the most desperate cutthroat will think to steal such a wretched bit of provender.”
Etienne peered more closely at it.
“What is it, exactly? Beef?”
The color rose in Bellamere’s cheeks at the question.
“No, not beef,” he said, then they both took a long look at the mule who seized that moment to heehaw and scuff its own hoof in the dirt.
Etienne chuckled again. His friend was, perhaps, no fool after all.
Bellamere smiled wide and said, “I’d best be off. With a little luck, I can reach the next hamlet on the road and sleep with a roof overhead this night.”
Etienne’s smiled faded and his face grew serious again.
“Louf. I don’t know what to say.”
“Then let’s not say anything, Etienne. Not ‘goodbye’, but ‘until the next time’ and once some time and distance lie between us, why I am sure when that next time arrives, it will be with a glad heart for both of us and we’ll have stories to tell one another for a week or more.”
“Yes. You’re right, Louf. So ... until next we see one another.”
“Until then,” Bellamere replied, then took the mule by its bridle
and walked with his head held high back down the tower road.
Suddenly, Bellamere turned around and called out, “Don’t forget to tell your father, ‘the subtle light of darkness’.”
Etienne nodded then waved without saying anything, and he watched the blacksmith’s son walk away until he disappeared around a bend.
“Until next time, Louf,” he whispered, then turned back to the tower with his father’s book in hand.
Chapter Eleven
The way up to his father’s laboratory had never seemed so long to him as it did this time.
But he went up because he knew that his father and Bellamere had always shared a love of books, and surely his father would want to know that the blacksmith’s son would not borrow any more after this last.
He shifted the leather bound book from one hand to the other, then knocked lightly at the door before him. As expected, there was no response and Etienne let himself in.
His father had remade all of the lenses that had been destroyed only a few days ago. Etienne supposed that alone merited some of his respect, for it was an arduous process from what he understood.
He cleared his throat, but his father did not appear to notice. The old man was near a window, and set before him was one of the lenses held in a thin band of gold upon a pedestal. The old man adjusted it with a tiny key. Etienne knew that no one but the Alchemist himself could have remarked the change he had just made, for the movement was as minute and fine as the Alchemist could make it.
Etienne waited patiently until at last, his father straightened his back and set the key to one side. He then covered the apparatus with a black velvet cloth. That was when Etienne noticed that there were black cloth covers set over what he supposed were similarly adjusted lenses and mirrors all over the entire room.
“Bellamere has gone away, Father,” Etienne said without preamble.
His father bustled over to another of the yet uncovered lenses and bent to it, then appeared to remember that he had forgotten the adjustment key.
The Marechal Chronicles: Volume V, The Tower of the Alchemist Page 11