In All of Infinity

by H. R. Holt

  As everyone began leaving their chairs, which were positioned around a circular table that took up most of the room, he looked at her as she continued sitting. The light from the small windows that were placed all around them shone on her, revealing how beautiful she was, making him wonder once again why she was called such a title. Was that her real name? He never asked. He could tell at this moment, though, that she was stressed by what had been said. A vein on the right side of her forehead had shown itself, just as it usually did when they told her that Wrenwood was falling into pandemonium.

  She looked at him, speaking only after the others were gone. “Aren’t you going to follow them? Or do you prefer to stay here and watch me plan to do nothing about Draven…about everything?”

  “I never agreed with them.”

  “You never do,” she spat, her blue eyes full of rage. “You never do!”

  He blinked. “I thought you’d be proud of me because of that, Frost. Draven is going to get his comeuppance sooner or later. As for doing nothing, I’m sure you do plenty. Why don’t you trust my word? Because what I say isn’t important?”

  “I didn’t say that!” she exclaimed and stood.

  Emmanuel smiled at the form of her body, how it curved in the right places. She always dressed wonderfully, mainly in white, so he wondered if she was as saintly as she tried to be. He looked into her eyes, and then at her mouth, which was candy apple red and kissable. He hadn’t kissed a woman in so long, and Madame Frost looked so much like Esme! She seemed to sense his intentions and began walking away.

  He stood and followed her, caught her arm before she reached the door. She didn’t turn to him, so he turned her slowly and smiled at her. There was a loose bang in her eye, so he put it behind her ear with his finger, feeling the warmth of her skin.

  “Why do they call you Madame Frost?” he asked, realizing she was afraid of him.

  “You won’t do anything,” she stated coldly. “You love Esme, remember?”

  He ignored the fact she didn’t answer his question. “How do I know she still loves me?” He ran a finger across her mouth and then trailed it along her jaw. “I’m not sure that she’s even alive.” He lost himself in her eyes, and then wrapped her in his arms, feeling the warmth of her body as it pressed against him. He locked the door and began undoing the back of her dress.

  “You don’t want to do this,” she said almost inaudibly, gasping for breath. She jumped when she heard the door lock behind her, then felt his large hands on the small of her back. “You can’t do this.”

  Emmanuel undressed her until she was wearing only her chemise. When the cool wind of early spring came through the window, she shuddered and he wrapped his arms around her. He stared at her dress on the floor around her feet, then ran his hands down her back and pulled up the fabric until he felt the warmth of her buttocks. She moaned when she felt his hands there, found her heartbeat increase.

  “This is wrong,” she said and pushed herself from him.

  He pulled her back and, though she pushed at his chest, she wasn’t as strong as he was and surrendered to his embrace. He pressed his mouth softly to hers and she felt a hunger unlike any other come over her. She began undoing his clothes, slowly unbuttoning his shirt to reveal his muscular stomach. He ran his hands through her hair, and she reacted to his touch by closing her eyes. Sensing her pleasure, he kissed her passionately, moving his tongue within the confines of her mouth, meeting hers over and over. Frost returned to removing his clothes until he stood naked with a breeze surrounding him.

  She looked at his member and he smiled when he saw her eyes widen. She was pleased. He took her hand, icy cold just as his, and walked over to the fireplace. They locked eyes for a moment, then he turned ahead and she looked at his well-muscled buttocks. He worked out a lot; there was no doubt in her mind about that.

  When they reached the fireplace, he sat on the rug and looked at her, a sincere look on his face. Frost looked at his member as it lounged on the rug, wondered what it would feel like inside of her it was so large, and felt his hands go up her legs. She felt weak, so he lowered her down and smiled as he pressed his lips to hers again.

  Emmanuel removed the rest of her clothes, still kissing her. When she was naked at last, he pulled away from her and stared at her breasts.

  “You are beautiful,” he said with conviction. They were as large as melons and were crowned by nipples with light pink aureoles. He began playing roughly with them and she moaned. Emmanuel returned back to her mouth, kissed her again, and let his hand trail down her stomach to her mound. He didn’t have to search for long when he began strumming her moans with her passion bud.

  Emmanuel rose above her and inserted his member, began riding her with all the man he was. At long last, he was ready to explode. He smiled at her as sweat down his forehead and down his back into the crack of his buttocks. He was about to please her beyond her wildest dream.

  “No,” she managed as he rode her. “Come here. I want to taste you.”

  He crawled towards her and she placed his bulging manhood inside her mouth. When he exploded at last, she bit down only slightly when desire’s fluid threatened to strangle her. As some of it escaped her mouth, he laughed despite the pain. She swallowed and he fell down beside her, exhausted.

  “Well, this is a first,” she said with a laugh. “I don’t usually make love to the council members. Of course, most of them are old.”

  Before he could respond, they heard a loud knock on the door. Emmanuel stood up just as the door burst open, standing behind one of the chairs. He found himself completely shocked as he saw who was leading the counselors into the room. Draven Ovile, dressed in black from head to toe, began clapping and trying to keep his even darker hair from falling into his eyes by tossing his head.

  “Oh, that’s wonderful,” he said and laughed. “I must say… I never thought that I had it in me. I mean, aren’t I the most cruel minded man you’ve ever met? I should have an award or something.”

  “You have no place here!” Frost exclaimed and stood. She began manipulating the breeze around her until it became a thick fog around them. When it cleared up around her, her brow furrowed. “I don’t understand.”

  Draven laughed. “Good.” He began walking towards them, taking slow, calculated steps. He looked around him as he laced his hands in front of him. His dark green eyes looked at Frost, held for a second, and then turned to Emmanuel. Draven looked at the older man’s member before turning back to Frost. “You should see mine. Actually, I think you’ll be seeing plenty of it, my queen, after we wed.”

  “I would never marry you,” she spat. “Never!”

  “I think there’s something you need to understand, my sweet. The darkness has gathered around Magaren and Wrenwood has fallen. You no longer have a say, especially since you surrendered some of your power to save this… old widow,” he said and laughed again. He snapped his fingers and two of the council approached, almost salivating as they awaited orders. They possessed stronger powers than Emmanuel, so he knew it was useless to resist them. “Kill him. I don’t care how you do it, just get rid of him. I don’t want to see him again.”

  “And the woman?” they inquired.

  “I can take care of her,” he said and smiled at Emmanuel. “I hope she likes it rough. I can tell you didn’t give it to her the way I would. I mean, I understand that you couldn’t, since you were under a spell cast by yours truly. You don’t love her. You just feel sorry for her.”

  Before he could retaliate, the two he’d considered his allies pulled him away. He had no choice but to follow them. When he reached the door, he looked over his shoulder and saw Frost on the rug again, her legs spread. Draven looked over his shoulder and smiled at Emmanuel before the door closed behind him. Was the younger man right? Did he feel sorry for Frost?

  Instead of killing Emmanuel, they gouged out his eyes and sent him on his way. He roamed the Cathene Continent with all he knew and the little power he possessed,
unable to see the world except by four senses. He wasn’t sure if he loved Madame Frost except for as a friend, since the magic of the spell washed away shortly after he left Wrenwood. He did feel sorry for her, though. As he left, he could sense someone looking at him, but he could no longer see so the intention of the observer was futile.

  He wasn’t loved by many, most detested him because he was blind, but he was valued for his company by a band of gypsies. They considered him among them at times because he was a wanderer just like they were. It was by traveling that he found his way into Peniolea around two years later, hearing the local townspeople laugh at a man who had undergone bizarre torture. He found a group of people who knew the name he hadn’t heard for four years, Reverie, and knew Fate had guided him there.

  ***

  When Mona didn’t talk about Otis, she cried and Windrew found himself wishing for the presence of a real woman. When his wife gave birth to their two sons, she had wept, but only tears of happiness. When she was hurting either emotionally or physically, she asked to be left alone, even though he told her he didn’t mind being a shoulder for her to cry on. He wished she was slightly like Mona at times, but not all the time. As a warrior, he knew he couldn’t stand it.

  “Ok…let me get this straight: this guy doesn’t have the balls to save himself, so we have to?” Tanner asked with a laugh. While everyone else was quite, the redhead couldn’t stop talking. If they were spies, he would blow their cover because he revealed more names than he was supposed to, including Reverie’s. Windrew dreaded ever bringing him along, knowing he knew Peniolea like the back of his hand, especially the homes of his enemies. He hated the Ojala family.

  “Shut up, Tanner,” Windrew said, wishing he could ride quickly through town, escape this gnat of a man. Mona began crying again and he rolled his eyes. He mumbled, “This day couldn’t get any worse.”

  The town was crowded, loud, and clung to darkness. Sunshine would be a waste here, the wizard realized. It would only illuminate the poverty, with most people as dirty as the ground itself, striving for a bit of gold; and it would also reveal the eyes of those who were greedy, nasty, and worshippers of evil. He didn’t need to see that. He could sense it already, as well as the presence of his brother nearby.

  The cage was in the middle of the busiest street, no doubt active because of the man’s situation. As Windrew rode closer, he examined the cage, sensing there wasn’t a need for him to use his powers. It was merely made of wood and twine, built so there was square places where the townspeople would squeeze their faces in and spit at him. Since he could no longer get closer on his horse, he handed the reins to one of his men, and then told three others to come with him. Brornar, though he wasn’t under the wizard’s command, agreed to come along, and gave Tanner his reins.

  “I need you to take the horses and get out of this crowd. I have a feeling things are about to get messy,” he told them, looking at Mona cautiously. “I will call you when I need you.”

  They nodded and he turned, began pressing himself through the crowd, having to turn sideways at certain junctures as he continued on. He could tell the general public were focused on the cage and hardly glanced at him, which was just as well. He didn’t need them to see him, recognize him.

  When he came to the front of the crowd, he was taken aback by the man in the cage. Although he was bleeding and the townspeople’s saliva was dripping into his wounds, he remained poised, ready for a chance to escape. Windrew glanced at the sharp stones at the younger man’s feet, knew they had caused the fresh wounds, and wished he could turn his wrath on the mob around him. If he didn’t know they were under a spell, he most assuredly would. Instead, he began preparing himself for an awkward healing moment, since he had promised Reverie he would bring her friend back without a scratch.

  He closed his eyes and searched inside himself, imagining the cage falling apart, and then heard a loud crash followed by screams. He looked and saw Otis standing there, shocked.

  “Come on, man!” Windrew barked. “We haven’t much time.”

  The wizard looked at the crowd, threw his arms wide and they were pressed into other pathways so that he and his allies could walk through. He turned back to Otis, saw that he was too weak to run with them. He glanced at Brornar, who immediately rushed to the injured man, and threw him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. They ran until they reached the group, and then mounted their horses. Windrew dropped the magical barrier and let the angry mob loose, smiling because he knew they wouldn’t be able to do much. Windrew wondered how his younger half brother would react when word reached him about the release of the man he’d put on display.

  “Let’s get out of here!” Windrew exclaimed over the uproar. He looked at Otis as he sat in the saddle with one of his men, unconscious, and hoped that he was alright. After all, it wasn’t every day he saved a possible ally in the good fight, much less save someone from his brother.

  Since he didn’t hear any objections, Windrew turned his horse and led his group towards where they’d come. They escaped only seconds before the throng closed in on them, throwing stones as much as they were cursing. He glanced at a few of them, his eyes settling briefly on a man with a bandage wrapped around his eyes, before turning to his ride.

  As Windrew rode along, he thought about forbidden magic. He couldn’t get over the fact that he was wrong earlier, doubted that he had been wrong. He began, instead, to think about what was stranger than forbidden magic. There wasn’t anything much more powerful magic than that which was forbidden, which was why it was named so to begin with. He didn’t know if Reverie possessed some other form of magic, or if the magic Isaac possessed came from Nadia herself. She was never one who used her abilities for good deeds; much less give them to someone who would destroy Luella.

  When they at last reached a safe area some miles out of town, not wanting to go directly towards the Ojala place, they decided that it would be as reasonable as any. The cottage reflected the goodness of those who lived within. As Windrew dismounted, taking the cobblestone walk towards the door, he remembered hiding here many times. He knew the couple well, called them by their first names, but realized that they were older now and probably didn’t want to hide him. They would always remain loyal to the cause, even if they did it some other way, so he wouldn’t be angry with them.

  He attempted to knock on the door but a small woman with vibrant violet eyes answered before he could. He knew that she recognized him because she began straightening herself up, dusting off her flour-covered hands on her apron, smiling as she welcomed him in. She didn’t mind the others coming in after him, then charging up the stairs, hiding Otis’s nakedness with their own fully-clothed bodies. Windrew watched them go, knew he would have to go up once they had everything prepared for him, but turned now to his old friend.

  “Aura,” he said with a smile. “You haven’t aged at all.”

  She blushed. “Thank you, Windy. I’m much obliged. You haven’t aged at all either.”

  They were the same age, had been introduced by their mothers at a time when all seemed innocent. As he stared at her, caught up in the strand of gray in her dark hair, he wished he could use his magic and keep her from aging any further. Although they were both in their mid-forties, he detested the idea of aging while she was quite the opposite. Once, when they were younger, she said she was never one for magic, but she possessed the only source of pure magic in his youth and that was merely by being herself.

  “Where’s Ben?”

  “He’s out in the garden. We have the most beautiful vegetables! You should see them, but…” she glanced up the stairs, saw one of his men. “…maybe you will later.”

  “Thank you,” he said and kissed her cheek.

  He bounded up the stairs and into a familiar room. The four-post bed was positioned horizontally mere feet from the door, and the unconscious Otis lay upon it. Mona sat beside him, holding his hand, crying whenever she looked to see that his member was gone. With a wave
of his hand, Windrew dismissed everyone, even though Brornor had to carry Mona away. When the door was closed at last, Windrew locked it and walked towards the bed. Otis looked at him, his eyes haunted.