Longing's Levant

by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

  “She was there to protect him?”

  “He was a warrior among warriors, was he not? And the most fine-looking of men?” At Evann-Sin’s roll of his eyes, Jabali smiled. “I’ve seen the man, milord. I tell you now—he is an exceptionally handsome man.”

  “Morrigunia found him to her liking so she protected him from Zenia.”

  “No, for she had seen him try to kill Zenia. She was there to make sure he did not escape the woman tracking him.”

  “Well, hell,” Evann-Sin grumbled. “I would have thought she’d keep him safe and punish the woman trying to kill him.”

  “Morrigunia knew what Zenia was. She had foreseen her coming. A human who could change her shape intrigued the Goddess. She wanted to know the secret of this ability so she could bestow it upon her favored warriors.”

  “I don’t see it as an advantage,” Evann-Sin declared. “I see it as a curse.”

  “And Morrigunia saw it that way, as well. Changing into an animal was a fine thing but behaving as one, drinking blood like one, was distasteful to the goddess.”

  “So why not destroy the woman and the evilness with her?”

  “Because Morrigunia wanted Zenia to turn Cainer into one like herself. She had plans for him.”

  “What did he do when he saw the old woman at the ruin?”

  “He ran to her and she led him deep within the ruin. The ruin had a name, by the way—it was called Speal Buanaí. Translated in ancient Chalean, it means Scythe of the Reaper. It was the home of Bás.” At Evann-Sin’s quizzical look, Jabali said quietly, “Death.”

  “She was leading him to his death.”

  Jabali nodded.

  “Zenia, of course, came after them. She had not seen the old woman and when finally found Cainer, he was in a small circular room, a dead end. He turned, came at her, but she threw herself on him and sank her teeth into his neck. Even as strong as he was, he could not escape her and she took him to the stone floor and tried to siphon every drop of his blood. Though he struggled, he could not dislodge her and finally stop struggling.”

  “But she did not kill him as she planned.”

  “Before she could take all his blood and devour him as she no doubt intended, Morrigunia materialized behind her with scythe in hand and severed the mad woman’s head from her body.”

  “Wasn’t that redundant since she’d already lost her head over Cainer?” the warrior chuckled.

  Jabali tried to look stern but failed. He covered his laughter with a discreet cough. “Behave, warrior,” he warned.

  Evann-Sin pressed his lips together—though his eyes sparkled with humor—and held up his hand to bid the Mage go on.

  “Cainer was lying on the floor. He had turned over to his belly and was trying to push himself up, but he was dying and he knew it. Morrigunia stood over him—scythe in hand—and watched as the parasite wriggled free of Zenia’s decapitated body. It lay there flopping on the stone floor as though its own head had been severed from its body. Bending down to push Cainer’s shirt out of the evil thing’s way, the Goddess of War, Life and Death lowered her scythe and cut a slit in the warrior’s back.”

  “Over his kidney,” Evann-Sin said, and then swallowed as though he were about to be sick.

  “As soon as the tiny trickle of blood caught the beastess’ attention, it raised its green triangular head and flicked out its forked tongue. In the space of a heartbeat, it shot forward and slithered onto the warrior’s now unconscious body. Morrigunia leaned against her bloody scythe and watched the creature disappear inside Cainer Cree.”

  “You called the thing female,” Evann-Sin remarked.

  “The parasite always is. Why? I can not tell you, but that is the way of it. It slithered to Cainer Cree like a lover to its mate.”

  “Morrigunia knew what the thing would do,” the warrior said with a shudder.

  “Aye, for she had been in communication with the parasite since Cainer and Zenia entered this world. In that contact, she learned what the host was capable of doing. The possibilities intrigued Morrigunia—a warrior incapable of being killed on the battlefield, one whose strength exceeded that of ten men and whose bloodlust would be wild who could be controlled by either withholding or providing Sustenance.”

  “Blood,” Evann-Sin mumbled.

  “Aye, but the parasite whispered to the goddess that there was a brew that would keep the warrior relatively content and biddable. That brew was tenerse. Addict him to that vile brew and he would be as manageable as needed.”

  “I don’t know which one of them was the most evil—Zenia, Morrigunia or the parasite,” Evann-Sin said. He cocked his head to one side. “Does the parasite have a name?”

  Jabali shrugged. “If it does, I do not know of it. Cainer calls it the queen much of the time. You will have to ask him when you meet.”

  The reminder that he would be taken to the Reaper and saddled with that man’s curse sobered Evann-Sin completely. Though he was more than willing to do anything to rescue his lady, the thought of having to live as Cainer Cree was forced to terrified him.

  “When the parasite changed Cainer Cree forever, Morrigunia hunkered there with the scythe at hand should she need it and was mesmerized by the process of the Transition. She watched him go from human to beast then back to human and realized he would pose a threat to her people if left at Speal Buanaí. He must be taken to a place from which she could take him when she needed him as the ultimate fighting machine—the indestructible warrior who could champion Chale. So before he came fully to himself, she hoisted him upon her shoulder and flew with him to an island off the rocky coast of Chale. There she lay him down and when he sat up, knowing full well he had something evil lodged inside him—having been aware of what had happened to him when that evil took over, he begged her to kill him, to put him out of his misery.”

  “She, of course, refused.”

  Jabali smiled slightly. “Did I tell you he is an extraordinarily handsome man?”

  Evann-Sin groaned. “Aye, I recall you have made mention of it.”

  “Hearing his deep voice, looking at this striking man with his honed physique, his dark brown hair and amber eyes, and knowing she had complete control over him, Morrigunia did what any red-blooded woman would do.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Evann-Sin said with a pretend yawn. “She jumped his bones.”

  “Tried to,” Jabali agreed, “but he was as repelled by her as he had been by Zenia. Thinking it was her Death persona that had caused this denial of her offer, she changed to her Life persona—a beautiful young woman with long blonde hair, a voluptuous figure, cherry red lips and eyes the color of the sea at sunset. She opened her arms to him, enticed him with suggestive body movements, but he still rejected her. Changing once more—unable to believe he would deny her a third time—she became the Warrioress persona with flowing red hair, eyes as green as a stalk of a new corn plant, and breasts that were full and bare. Yet still did he refuse to accept her offer. Enraged, humiliated and stunned that he would dare show such disrespect, she imposed several Geas upon him.”

  “What is that?”

  “Magical obligations. They can also be curses or prohibitions, or bans of some kind. The Geas is distinctive and fitting to each person. To break a Geas can cause great misfortune for those close to you and even result in the death of the recipient. Many a warrior has received his Geas from a woman, but to have been given one by Morrigunia, herself was an honor Cainer came to understand and accept—if not like.”

  “So what was his Geas?”

  “It became his obligation to pass on a fledgling from his body in order to aid those who seek him out.

  “But there were prohibitive Geas, as well,” Jabali commented. “Each was designed to penalize him for rejecting her advances.

  “The first was to make it impossible for Cainer to ever know sexual peace again. Since when he Transitions he takes on the form of a wolf-like creature, she made it so he would only know one mate in his lifetime.
When that mate dies or leaves him, he will never have another.”

  “That is cruel,” Evann-Sin stated. “To become celibate of your own accord is one thing, but to have it foisted upon you by a jealous, bitter woman—goddess or not—is a terrible burden. It is unnatural.”

  “And makes for a very lonely life. The second Geas was designed to make that life as long as possible so the loneliness would eat at the Reaper every day of his extended life. To ensure he would be as lonely as possible, she took him to the island where he resides to this day and left him there alone.”

  “By the Prophet, that is pitiless!”

  “The third Geas placed a ban on him taking his own life. She made it so the parasite inside would not allow him to be able to get out of his punishment.”

  Evann-Sin shook his head. “The poor bastard.”

  “And to keep Cainer on the island, Morrigunia placed another Geas upon him. She made it taboo for him to swim so he could never leave the island. To this day, it is a curse of the deargs duls that they cannot swim nor can they cross running water. They cannot so much as put a foot into running water because Morrigunia willed the parasite to fear it would drown if such should happen. So the parasite will not allow the deargs duls to come into contact with running water.”

  “I hope that is all the shit she heaped on the warrior,” Evann-Sin grunted.

  “There was one last Geas. When after all attempts at seduction failed, when all punishments were silently accepted, when Cainer Cree proved to be not only an honorable man but a steadfast one, the goddess decided to take him forcefully.”

  “I know what that’s like,” the warrior said through clenched teeth.

  “Morrigunia laid her hand upon his brow and he fell into a deep sleep. In that sleep, she willed his staff to rise and she impaled herself upon it. She took his seed within her in attempt to have a girl child of the union but when it came time for her to deliver, it was a male and Morrigunia threw the babe into the fire. She did not want a male. She wanted a girl. Over the years, she tried unsuccessfully to get a bairn from the warrior but finally gave up when she realized only males would come from the loins of Cainer Cree. And so another Geas was placed on Cainer’s broad shoulders—no female would ever spring from the staff of a deargs duls.”

  “So there will never be another female Reaper.”

  “Ah, but there have been several,” Jabali told him. At Evann-Sin’s look of surprise, the Mage nodded. “No female will ever spring from the loins of a Reaper for his seed is tainted with the spores and the spores destroy every female embryo at conception. But female Reapers can be made. Though they are rare, there have been those women who have dared to willingly embrace the parasite for personal gain and a few who have been unwilling victims of truly evil Reapers.”

  “That thought makes me ill,” Evann-Sin admitted.

  “It disturbs Cainer, as well, and in his imprisonment has made only one woman a deargs dul.”

  “Deargs dul. That is an evil-sounding word.”

  “Morrigunia called Cainer her deargs dul which in ancient Chalean means intense nature for he was forever brooding and ignored her whenever she came to visit him. So the Chalean term is interchangeable with Reaper.”

  “And she called Reaper from the ruins where she laid the trap for him?”

  “Partly, I suppose. I have pondered that, myself, and think perhaps it was because she had intended for him to reap the souls of her enemies on the battlefield, but I could be wrong. She might well have had another meaning in mind.”

  “Does she pester him still?”

  Jabali drew in a long breath then exhaled slowly. “Not as often as in the early centuries. Now, she rarely comes and then only when she needs something from him.”

  “How often is that?”

  “I think it had been nine years since last she visited. I journeyed there about a year ago. To my knowledge we have been the only two in all that time.”

  Evann-Sin winced. “He must be a forlorn man.”

  “He is a very forlorn man, milord. The island where he is imprisoned was once called Longbhriseadh—Chalean for shipwreck—for pirates would lure unsuspecting ships to those barren shores and once the vessel broke apart on the crags, make off with the goods. Since Cainer was forced into residency there, it has become known as the Isle of Uaigneas—the Island of Loneliness—and no one goes near it.”

  Evann-Sin sighed deeply. “When do I meet this sad warrior, Master?”

  “It would take us many weeks to reach Uaigneas by horseback and nearly a week by ship.” Jabali reached down and put a hand on the warrior’s shoulder. “I do not believe you want to wait that long to get your lady back.”

  “No, but…”

  “I will have Kaibyn take you to Uaigneas. He should find Cainer Cree an interesting conversationalist.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Cainer Cree was dreaming.

  He was dreaming of Aisling and the last time he had held his beloved lady in his arms. They had made love only the one time, and the memory of that wondrous mating would have to last him a lifetime…

  Her skin was like silk and held the tawny kiss of the sun. Dewy gold to compliment the honey blonde of her waist-length tresses, her flesh carried the scent of jasmine mixed with a touch of musk and when he ran the tip of his tongue across the smooth expanse of her swan-like neck, she tasted sweet and intoxicating. She was taller than most women of his acquaintance and had the easy laugh of the self-assured. Intelligent, creative, always in search of wisdom, she exuded confidence and clearness of purpose.

  With burgeoning nipples that bid a man’s lips to suckle their dusky nubs, her breasts were lush, filling a warrior’s hand to overflowing. The deep cleavage drew a man’s eyes and beckoned exploration. To rouse those dark coral tips to arousal, to pluck at them with trembling fingers, to lave the pebbly flesh with an eager tongue—such was the way to edge Aisling toward satisfaction.

  But true satisfaction had to be drawn from the juncture of her long, shapely legs—legs that could strongly—and possessively—wrap around a man’s waist and anchor him to her hot, slick core. Many had been the feverish dreams he had entertained of what came after that intimate contact, but the reality of lying with Aisling Lalor far surpassed any dream he could have fashioned with his engorged member.

  It had been on the cliffs of Amhantar, that windswept part of Ghaoithe that perched precariously on the shores of the Fiach Sea that they had consummated their love. The air was warm and misted with salt spray, a slight breeze plying its caressing fingers over their naked bodies. Far off to the West, the sky was darkening blue-gray with oncoming rain and now and again, a fork of lightning stabbed into the bowl of the ocean. Overhead, inquisitive seagulls soared upon the thermals and glanced down at the lover’s bower where Cainer Cree had carried his beloved Aisling.

  As he reclined upon the blanket he had spread for their use, she had stripped for him there on the barren cliffs where no man dwelt and no passing ship marred the glossy surface of the waters. With each piece of clothing that had reluctantly left her luscious body—for he imagined even that inanimate material was hesitant to stay its caressing of her abundant curves—Cainer had drawn in a ragged breath, licking his lips in anticipation of the meal being prepared for him.

  When at last she was bare to him, as upon the day she had eased from her mother’s womb, he got up and went to her, going to his knees in adoration of her grace and breathtaking beauty. He wrapped his strong arms around her and laid his cheek to the satiny indention of her concave belly. He could hear the increasing beat of her heart beneath his ear and as her fingers wound through his hair, he closed his eyes and reveled in the feel of having her in his arms.

  “I am the luckiest man on the face of the earth,” he whispered.

  “And I am the luckiest woman,” she replied.

  “I have never been so happy,” the warrior vowed.

  “Let me add to that happiness, milord,” she whispered.

&
nbsp; She slid down to her knees and offered her breasts to him. Like a greedy infant, he pressed his mouth to her turgid nipple and suckled, drawing upon that nubbin as though it contained the very essence he needed to make it through another day.

  Aisling let her head fall back and she closed her eyes to the delicious sensation his lips and tongue worked upon her body. She quivered as that wicked tongue flicked across one straining peak, and his teeth lightly closed upon the base.

  “Aye, my wondrous warrior,” she sighed.

  His hands were now cupped on the sleek roundness of her ass, his fingers meeting there in that mysterious cleft. He eased his middle finger into that cleft and touched the opening of her anus and circled it with the pad of his digit. She lurched forward, pressing his face hard against her breast.

  “Do not tease me, Cainer!” she protested.

  He chuckled around the delicacy upon which he drew and eased his finger inside her.

  “Ah!” his lady sighed, and quivered from head to toe.

  He drew back, abandoning her swollen nipple and slid his free hand around her hip, turned it palm up and cupped her dewy sex, his thumb resting along the crease of her leg where thigh met love mound. Lightly he squeezed and felt moisture oozing on his palm.

  “You are a wicked man, Cainer Cree,” she accused.

  “You think so?” he crooned then arched his hand so the middle finger slipped gently into her vagina.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed, and quivered once more.

  Impaled on both his middle fingers, she leaned against him, laying her head on his shoulder.

  “’Tis no fair, Cainer. You are clothed and I am not,” she pouted.

  “That can easily be remedied, Aisling,” he told her.

  Withdrawing his fingers, grinning at her groan of objection, he moved back from her and ripped open his shirt. The black pearl buttons of his uniform scattered upon the blanket. Pulling the shirt from his britches, he shrugged out of the torn material and made quick work of his belt and the closing at his waist.

  Sitting down, he pulled off his black boots and tossed them aside. In a graceful, assured move that brought a gleam of pride to Aisling’s sea-colored eyes, he stood up and rid himself of his britches. As he made to kneel down, she put her hands on his muscled thighs to prevent him.