The Elements of Love

by S. D. Grady

  A small, seldom used door stood unlatched just on the other side of the dais. It would be no trouble at all to disappear and never be found.

  * * * *

  Grelig, Arlynn and Myrlynn walked at a steady pace in the eye of the storm, dust covering them even though no wind disturbed their hair. The sound of a babbling brook could just be heard through the never ceasing cry of the conjured storm.

  Myrlynn pulled on his mother's hand. “I'm tired."

  "Oh hush, my brave boy. It is only a little farther before we stop."

  Grelig paused a few steps ahead, trying to identify their location by the few landmarks visible to him. The massive boulder, a turn in the road and the brook all added up to one place.

  "My lady!” he cried over the howl of the storm.

  Arlynn stood, great circles under her eyes emphasizing just how long she had been running from the persistent Army. “Yes?"

  "You have noticed the light is fading?"

  Arlynn studied the air about her. Grey was mixing more heavily in the brown every moment. She nodded at Grelig.

  "There are some caves just around the corner. We will be able to shelter there for the night. The fog will be building on the banks of the stream and hide our campfire smoke."

  Arlynn's shoulders slumped. The Whistling Caves! They were so very close. The Valley of Shadows was simply over the mountain. One more day! She nearly collapsed with relief in the realization that her flight from death was almost over.

  "Come!” the blacksmith beckoned. “Just a little farther."

  Myrlynn stood up and pulled Arlynn's hand. “Just a little farther, Momma."

  The trio moved forward, weary with fear and walking.

  Grelig came to a halt.

  "What is it?” Arlynn asked. “Are we there?"

  Grelig motioned for her and the child to stay where they were. If his eyes were not deceiving him...

  Shayla stood in the middle of the road. Like the trio casting the storm, she bore a great deal of dust on her body, but the wind did not tug at her. She stared at Grelig over her shoulder, apparently unsure if she should keep walking.

  "Shayla?"

  She turned back to the man who had helped her in so many ways last night. Was it last night?

  Another night was fast approaching, the light was fading, her strength was failing; she collapsed.

  Arlynn shoved past Grelig and knelt by the girl's body, instinctively placing her hands on Shayla's heart. Only to pull back. “I can no longer heal,” the sobbing statement tore from her throat.

  Myrlynn padded to his mother's side. Grelig followed.

  "If you haven't the power, you must at least have some knowledge,” he begged.

  Shayla's cheek was black and misshapen and her breathing came in uneven, short gasps. He gathered the frail, bony woman to him. The winds he allowed to abate.

  "I did this,” he muttered.

  "She needs to be warm, at the very least,” Arlynn urged. “Come, you said it was near?"

  Grelig set off at a near trot thinking how he had demanded that Shayla remain with him last night. She said she would be punished and he had ignored the statement, selfishly wallowing in a moment of passion. Why did he leave the door unbarred, allowing the girl the means to return to torment. Guilt washed over him in wave after wave.

  Myrlynn began to cry. “Momma! Why is Grelig so mad?"

  "I don't know. Now hurry. We need to help the girl."

  They arrived at the caves. Grelig sent Myrlynn out to gather more wood while he managed to get some small sticks lit with his flint and steel. Arlynn attended to Shayla's bruises with a rag and water from the stream. Smoke circled through the cave and vanished at length through a hidden chimney high above. Drifts of soft sand covered the floor of the cave. It was small, but would suffice for the night.

  Shayla moaned. Grelig came to her side at once. Her round brown eyes opened, dull with pain. He took her hand, happy to find it warm and strong.

  "You found me,” Shayla whispered.

  "I abandoned you,” he denied.

  She shook her head. “You freed me.” Again, the pain took her away.

  Her breathing became more labored. A rattling started deep within her chest.

  Arlynn blanched and looked away.

  Grelig recognized the death rattle. He knew only a Master Healer could draw somebody back when they had entered the last river.

  Wood clattered to the floor of the cave. Myrlynn's small feet entered the ring of grief. “Mama?"

  Arlynn dashed the tears from her eyes. She must be strong, she reminded herself. Everything she ever could be was in this child. He did not deserve any recriminations. He did not take her healing powers away, his father did. “Yes, Myrlynn?"

  "I can help.” He leaned towards his mother with his finger pointing at her chest.

  Arlynn took the small hand in hers, “Not this time, sweets. Not this time."

  "But I can!” With his other hand, Myrlynn reached towards the girl on the floor.

  Grelig, lost in his own world of guilt and grief, watched the child touch Shayla's chest.

  The jolt of fire that leapt to him through Shayla's hand was full of light, power and love. Light every color of the rainbow danced in the cave, reflecting off crystals in the stone. Grelig could see the force of life linger over Shayla's body before settling back into her.

  Her skin took on a healthier glow; her cheek returned to a normal shape, her chest rose with deep breaths. She turned her head towards Myrlynn, smiling, before falling into a healing sleep.

  When the light no longer glittered, Grelig looked at the boy. Arlynn held him tightly as she sobbed. Myrlynn accepted the embrace placidly, seeming to know that he was the one providing the healing balm his mother once had.

  "I thought I would never be able to heal again,” she cried.

  "I never thought I would be able to bring a storm.” Grelig smiled.

  Part III

  Arlynn sat at the mouth of the cave listening to the whispering of the stream nearby while Myrlynn and Grelig slept as soundly as the injured girl. Fog swirled in the night, leaving nothing for Arlynn to see. Only in her mind's eye could she contemplate her current situation.

  A scraping along the road interrupted her thoughts. Closing her eyes, Arlynn concentrated on the noise, focusing on its source. One booted foot scraped. Many more marched in the mists.

  A disembodied voice murmured, “What the bloody good is wandering about in the fog, I ask ye?"

  "Shut yer trap, Devin! It's captain's orders!"

  Arlynn pictured the grumbling soldier shrink in fear. The scraping foot scurried along. She stood and dusted her skirts off. With purpose, she approached Grelig and nudged his shoulder.

  "Grelig! Wake!"

  As he wallowed in his sandy bed, Arlynn wondered at her lack of fear in the giant. For somebody who wielded hammer and steel every day, his smile was eager and his eyes pleasant. He stretched and groaned. Arlynn shook harder.

  "We must be going!” She turned to her son and began rousing him as well.

  "Nope.” Grelig was sitting up now with a stubborn scowl on his face.

  "Yes, we must. The Army has passed. In this mist, we can reach the mountain trail without detection. Come."

  Grelig continued to remain where he was. “Shayla could not come with us."

  "Who?” Arlynn questioned as she began tugging Myrlynn's cloak over his nodding head.

  "The girl. She must sleep some more."

  Arlynn turned back to the strange woman they had found on the road. Laying her hand on the girl's heart, she studied the patient with eyes trained in healing. Good color, her breath came easy, the bruises were fading and no longer tender ... “She will be fine. She is not my concern, and I can't allow to be slowed down."

  Grelig approached and knelt, taking the girl's hand in his. “My lady, I know you have great need of my help. But you are not without your own abilities. Your boy may be pursued, but he is also able to run.�
� His knuckles softly grazed Shayla's cheek. “This lass here, I am responsible for her."

  Arlynn eyed Grelig keenly. He showed exceptional tenderness towards the girl, his attention wholly taken by her. Arlynn's hands grasped her cloak about her. She swallowed hard. A tear traced her cheek.

  Grelig looked up. “What's this then?"

  Arlynn stood up. “Myrlynn. Are you ready?” She picked up the two packs they had been carrying all day. “We must take our leave of Grelig. Come say farewell."

  "This is a sudden change,” Grelig muttered.

  Arlynn blushed. “Don't mind me. I once met the one who was my destiny.” Her mouth twisted bitterly. “However I was not so fortunate as you. He was taken from me. I won't take you from her."

  Grelig shuffled his feet. Myrlynn tugged at his hands.

  "Won't you come, Grelig? Momma says the Valley will be beautiful and safe."

  Grelig rumpled the blond head. “It appears I have some things to take care of first. Perhaps I will come later."

  "Later?” Clouds hid the Moon in the boy's gaze.

  "When you've grown some. I'll come to teach you to pull the wind to you or send it away."

  Myrlynn smiled. “I won't need to be taught.” The confidence in that statement was frightening.

  Arlynn pulled Myrlynn towards the entrance of the cave. “I will send word when I've found the Valley. You won't be safe from the Army if your support of us is found out, and I fear that will happen."

  "Perhaps General Erlic won't be safe from me."

  Arlynn turned back one last time. The genial blacksmith looked as if he were about to loose a thunderstorm. “Perhaps.” She smiled enigmatically, before mother and child melted into the mist.

  Grelig knelt back down by Shayla. He sent a breath to the fire, and watched it leap up. Then he turned and studied her face for some time.

  He acknowledged that every person on Earth had a purpose in life. As a member of the Elemental Body, he had always thought his purpose had been determined by the gift given to him. The Air enabled him to eat and maintain a comfortable roof over his head. The Village Four esteemed him for his skill. The fields were plowed with his tools and the horses worked in his shoes. The Army...

  As Grelig had been raised in the Land of the Sun, it had always been a foregone conclusion that his Army fought for the good of the People of the Sun. Hence, he took pride that many an officer brought their steel to him for sharpening. He hammered their armor. He mended the chain mail.

  But now, as he looked again upon Shayla's sweet face, he questioned just what his Army was meant to be doing. Were beating helpless slaves and murdering a child their orders? Who gave the orders?

  His purpose, Grelig now saw, was to be much more.

  He leaned over to the fire and placed another stick on it before lying down next to Shayla. There were many questions he needed answers to; she would provide some of them.

  * * * *

  She blinked.

  Grelig smiled.

  Shayla smiled back and stretched.

  "Feel better?"

  "Mm hmm.” Her mind cleared. “Where am I?” She began to sit up.

  "No, just lie still for a bit. I've a fish roasting."

  Shayla yawned and found her arms limp. She tried to recall what had happened last night. “The storm ... it passed?"

  Grelig's mouth turned up. “You might say that."

  The smoke danced high in the cave, sunlight playing in its depths.

  "We're in the Whispering Caves. Well hidden from anybody looking for you."

  Shayla considered his words. “Yes, he will look,” she agreed. “But not right away. He is seeking somebody else."

  "He won't find them either."

  She watched him turn the fish on the rock near the fire. Brilliant red-white coals popped and hissed. The smell was heavenly. Absently she asked, “Find who?” while she sat up, wrapping her arms around her knees.

  Grelig stirred the coals for several minutes. “Why would the General wish to kill someone who is capable of bringing peace?"

  Shayla shook her head. “I don't know. In the hall they were talking of a monster, not a peacemaker."

  "I doubt many would think of Myrlynn as a monster."

  "What is he then?"

  Grelig met her questioning eyes. “A boy. A four year old boy."

  "General Erlic wants a boy killed?"

  Grelig nodded. “And he beats unsuspecting women who were taken prisoner."

  Shayla ran her hand over her cheek, the memory of the pain more vivid than the last few moments.

  "I am going to stop this madness.” Grelig studied the fire.

  Shayla wrapped her hands about her chest. Her fingers came away caked in dust and sand. The sound of the stream outside the door called to her. “I think I'll wash some of the storm away."

  Grelig took little notice of her departure.

  The General was the visible initiator of these inexplicable cruelties. However, so much of Erlic's behavior ran contrary to basic precepts and customs in the Land of the Sun. At Sunset Devotion every night, the village spoke a prayer of hope and peace. It was only the long-standing betrayal of the Land of the Moon that perpetuated the War.

  Who would instruct a General to kill a peacemaker?

  * * * *

  Shayla bit into the flaky flesh of the fish with great relish. When she paused a moment to wipe some juice from her chin, she caught Grelig grinning at her. Returning the smile, she hunkered a little deeper in the sand. “I don't think I've had a moment to thank you for all you've done,” she said after swallowing.

  His eyes lit with a remembered fever. “I thought that's what you did the other night. I had to find a way to repay you."

  Shayla's skin leapt with flame. This man looked at her as if she wasn't ... Shayla turned away. But she was a whore. A broken, beaten, used woman; nothing a man of good standing would wish to care for. “You freed me. That is enough."

  "I allowed him to beat you."

  "No!” Shayla desperately wanted to take away the derision in his voice. “What could you have done to stop that?"

  Anger filled him. “I should have kept you locked in the cottage. I should have tied you up. I should have..."

  "No.” Shayla put her fish down in her lap and raised a hand to him. “Then I would have remained enslaved."

  He blinked.

  "Can't you see one master is much the same as the next?"

  "No, I can't.” His steely eyes remained troubled.

  "Then this is nothing more then what I owe you for taking care of me today.” She leaned in and kissed him.

  His hand, wet and slick with the juice of the fish, cradled hers. “You owe me nothing."

  Their foreheads resting together she added, “Then it is a gift of a free woman.” She kissed him again; open mouthed, her tongue tickling his lips. “And I thank you."

  Grelig licked his lips, trying to fathom her intentions. He hoped that it might be...

  Her lips returned. She sucked his lower lip until Grelig leaned towards her, taking her tongue deep into his mouth. Heedless of where the fish might have gone, he grasped her waist and pulled her onto his lap, her hair tumbling over his hands.

  Restraint and gentility was dismissed.

  Even as her hands snaked through his thick locks, Grelig's hands wandered over her body. Angular edges of rib and bone softened as she clawed at his tunic.

  "Take it off,” she demanded, her voice low in passion.

  "Yours first."

  Shayla hissed in shock as the tattered green gown was whisked over her head. Grelig let go of the fabric, tangling her hands in it, allowing his tongue unfettered access to her breast and pebbly nipple. She arced in wonder as chills raced down her spine.

  Sinking into his warmth and strength, she left her arms over her head.

  His tongue conquered her neck, then her shoulder ... the top delicate curve of her breast.

  A sigh escaped Shayla. “So sweet,” she mur
mured.

  Grelig paused in his eager devouring of her flesh. “Yes, you are."

  Her arms came down to his shoulders. “You can't know what it was like."

  Grelig waited. Shayla's face was no longer passion blank. A painful, wistful twist of her mouth made his heart ache.

  She wrapped herself tightly around his neck, hiding the tears that never seemed to stop. “No one before has made me feel like a woman."

  Grelig's hands rubbed her back, the soothing motion lessening the tension in her shoulders.

  "I was nothing."

  "No, Shayla. Never that. The General would not waste his time looking for nothing."

  She leaned back to meet Grelig's grim visage. “Then perhaps I am merely something to be beaten."

  "No,” he denied her again. “You are someone to be enjoyed."

  Grelig drew her close once again, taking her mouth in a soft kiss swimming with adoration.

  Shayla felt the caress of a summer wind across her skin. It was so tempting. What this blacksmith wrought with his lips and hands was nothing short of astounding. She let her body and heart fly into the breeze.

  Grelig laid her down into the soft sand, licking a hot path over her damp skin. The scent of woman and fire stoked his furnace, increasing the tempo of his assault. She writhed beneath him, tempting the very beast within. What he wanted, to plunge into her tight, dripping pussy, would have to wait just a little bit longer.

  He reined in his stampeding desire, raising himself on his elbow.

  Her eyes fluttered open. “Why did you stop?"

  "Will you trust me?"

  Shayla's brow gathered for a moment. “I suppose I must."

  Grelig smiled. “Then close your eyes...” In the flickering light, he spied the green gown. The bodice was already torn in two. It took not but a sharp rent and Grelig had what he wanted. “Trust me."

  Shayla nodded with her eyes closed.

  Grelig wrapped the narrow strip of fabric about her eyes, tying a firm knot.

  "Why are you doing this?” The fear shook in Shayla's voice.

  "I want you to accept my gift,” Grelig said. “Now lay back and let me give you what you really want."

  Settling back into the sand, Shayla tried to still her shivering body. Fear battled with anticipation.

  A feather touch on the sole of her right foot made her jerk.