Rhapsody: Child of Blood tsoa-1

by Elizabeth Haydon

  "What are the nearest towns? Cities?"

  Emily's concern was growing as each moment passed. "There are no towns or cities around here, Sam, not for more than a hundred leagues. My father only goes into the city once a year, and he's gone for more than a month when he does."

  "What's the name of the city, Emily? Do you know?"

  She squeezed his hand in an effort to calm him, though he could see she had no understanding of his panic. "We're in the middle of two. To the west, on the other side of the great river, is Hope's Landing, and to the southeast is Easton. That's the biggest city in the land, I think."

  Gwydion's eyes began to sting. It can't be, he thought desperately, it can't be. Both of the names she had mentioned were cities in Serendair.

  "Sam?" His panic was beginning to take Emily over, too. Gwydion looked into her face. His eyes cleared suddenly, his vision became intensely acute again, and from the depths of his despair his pragmatic nature reemerged.

  Of course, he thought, his fear subsiding instantaneously. He was here to save her from the destruction of the Island. He knew how, and to whom to go, and when they would need to leave. Some beneficent Fate must have sent him back in Time, given him this chance, though he had no idea why.

  He looked at her again, and smiled, and that realization came to him as well. This must be his soul mate; he knew it more certainly than he knew his own name. He could see it. With the clarity of the knowledge came a sense of calm assurance and growing joy. Emily was his soul mate. It was easy to believe, given how much he knew he loved her already.

  Gwydion took her face in his hands, and pulled her into another kiss. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," he said when he released her. "I need to tell you something."

  She moved back from him a little. "What?"

  He tried to keep his voice from cracking, as it occasionally did when he was excited or anxious. "We have to leave as soon as we can, and go east to the Meadows. If anything happens to me, or if we get separated for any reason, you must promise me you will find someone named MacQuieth, or Farrist, or Garael. Please, promise me."

  Emily stared at him in amazement. "What are you talking about?"

  Gwydion thought about how to explain, and then realized he couldn't. How could she possibly understand now? No one knew this was coming; the war had not even reached here, and the death of the Island was centuries after the war. Then a sadder thought occurred to him. Perhaps he wasn't destined to go back, either. Perhaps instead he was to live, and die, here, in the Past.

  He took her face in his hands again and studied it carefully. Despite his irrational behavior, she seemed to understand his distress, and she wanted to soothe it. Her eyes sought answers in his face. They were dark with concern; their sympathy had no visible bottom to its depth. It was a face he could look at forever and still not tire of, or even fully know everything about. Tenderness welled up inside him, choking him, and he decided, without a second thought, that dying here with her was infinitely better than going back to living without her.

  The moonlight shifted and filled her eyes, and she smiled. When she did, his fear of the situation evaporated, and he kissed her once more, lingering longer this time. The wonderful, queasy feeling returned to his stomach as he felt her lips part slightly and her breath filled his mouth. The intimacy was more than he could handle without losing control completely.

  He drew back, and found a look of wonder on her face. "I can't believe you really came," she whispered. "Where are you from?"

  Gwydion was astonished. "What do you mean?"

  Emily took his hands, her excitement spilling over from her eyes to her body, which began to quiver happily. "You were my wish, weren't you? Have you come to save me from the lottery, to take me away?"

  Gwydion swallowed. "You could say that. Why do you think I'm your wish?"

  Her face held no shyness, no awkwardness. "I wished for you to come last night on my star, right after midnight, and here you are. You don't know where you are, do you? Did I bring you from a long way off?"

  Gwydion's eyes grew larger, and he gave her a silly smile. "Yes, definitely."

  She sighed. "I can't believe it. I waited for almost a year for the right night, and it worked. You've finally come. You're finally here." A single tear formed in her eye and rolled rapidly down her face, making the intensity of her smile even brighter. There was magic in her, he decided. Maybe magic strong enough to really have brought him here over the waves of Time. She stood and offered him a hand. "Come on," she said. "Let me show you the fairy fort."

  They walked down the face of the valley, slowly this time, toward the stream that wound through the pasturelands. As they descended the hillside Gwydion watched the unfamiliar stars move farther away, and the black sky stretch out above them, filled with endless promise.

  When they reached the stream Emily stopped, then looked around in dismay. The water was moving more rapidly than she had expected, and the banks were marshy; one of her shoes sank in and stuck tight. Gwydion helped her pull it free, but when it emerged it was covered with mud. She looked helplessly over to the willow tree where she hoped to take him, and then down at the intricately laced shoes.

  "I'm sorry, Sam," she said, disappointment clotting her voice. "I don't think I can make it, and I can't really take my shoes off—they take hours to put on as it is. You should still go, though. The view from under the willow tree is amazing."

  "There really wouldn't be any point in going without you," Gwydion said. He looked around for an easier place to ford the stream, but found none. A thought occurred to him, but he didn't know if he could bring himself to suggest it.

  "Well, you could carry me," she said, as though reading his mind. "That is, if you don't mind."

  "No, not at all," he said in relief. His voice cracked at the first word, and he hid his embarrassment by tying up the ends of his cloak to keep them from dangling in the river. When the heat in his face had subsided he put his arms out. He had never carried anyone before, and he swore to himself that if he dropped her he would find the nearest poisonous plant and put himself out of his humiliation.

  Emily came to him without a hint of caution. She wrapped one arm around his neck, and then, as if guiding him, took his arm and placed it behind her knees. He lifted her with little difficulty and carried her carefully to the stream, and then across it. He kept walking once out of the water, wending his way through the soggy grass to the willow tree, where he put her down gently.

  It was a magnificent one, with many trunks surrounding a main shaft wider than he could have reached his arms around three times. The tree had grown enormously tall with its ready supply of water, and the delicate leaves cast lacy moonshadows on the ground, like summer snowflakes.

  Emily patted the willow lovingly. "Farmers believe that a solitary tree in the middle of pasturelands is the home of all the fairies that live in the fields," she said, looking up at the tallest branches and smiling. "That means this tree is very magical. It's terrible luck to lose a fairy fort to lightning or fire, and no farmer would ever cut one down."

  Gwydion thought back to his vision, the pasturelands burned and desolate. He had seen the willow then, blackened and dead, and he shuddered involuntarily at the memory. He turned back to Emily. She was walking around the tree, her hand resting on the branches above her, speaking to it softly in a language he didn't understand.

  When she came back around to him she smiled. "So, now that you've seen it, what would you like to do next? Do you want to go back?"

  "Not yet," he said, returning her smile. "Do you know anything about the stars?"

  "Yes; why?"

  "Will you teach me?"

  "If you'd like." She started to sit on the ground under the tree, but he stopped her. He loosed the drawstring of his cloak from around his neck and spread it out on the ground for her.

  Her grin of approval made him shiver. "Sam?"

  "Yes?"

  "Would it bother you if I took off my dress?
"

  Gwydion felt all the blood drain from his face. A moment later, he was painfully aware of the place to which it had decided to run. Before he could speak she interrupted him, embarrassment in her voice.

  "I'm sorry; I should have been more specific. I mean this part." She touched the blue velvet overdress awkwardly. "I assure you, I am quite modestly attired beneath it. It's just that this is my only fancy dress, and if I spoil it, it will break my mother's heart. Would you mind?"

  Many answers ran through Gwydion's head, and the corresponding expressions all passed over his face in an instant.

  "No," he said.

  Emily turned her back and walked over to the tree again. He watched her unlace the bodice of the velvet overdress and slide it over her shoulders; it was off before he had a chance to realize that his blatant stare was rude. She stepped out of it and hung it carefully over a tree branch, then turned to face him once more. She now wore a sleeveless gown of white lace. The modesty piece he had seen before was part of the bodice, and the crinoline was long and full, like the skirt of a summer dress.

  She sat down on his cloak, and he took his place beside her. "What do you want to know about the stars?" she asked, looking up into the night sky. Her hair hung down over her shoulders, and it was all Gwydion could do to keep his hands off it.

  "Anything. Everything. I don't recognize any of them, so whatever you can tell me would be a help. The stars are different where I come from." It seemed a simple, factual statement to him, but Emily's face shone with wonder at the thought. She settled back on the ground, stretching out with her head resting against the green moss that slanted up against the base of the willow tree.

  "Well, first and foremost, that's Seren, the star that the Island is named for. Most nights in the spring and summer it is directly overhead at midnight."

  Gwydion settled down beside her. He stretched out his arm behind her, trying to avoid touching her too soon. As she had several other times that night, she read his mind and took hold of his arm, pulling it around behind her shoulders. The movement didn't even stop the astronomy lesson she was imparting.

  She continued to point out stars and constellations, telling him a little of the lore and whatever history she knew. She seemed to have an impressive background in it, some of which was navigational. Gwydion made note of that odd fact, but after a moment he was no longer watching the heavens, as she was, but had relocated his gaze to her face. It was glowing with its own celestial light, and he felt he was learning far more by watching the stars in her eyes than by looking into the sky. He rolled onto his side and bent his arm behind his head, grinning like an idiot.

  After a long time Emily looked up, as if awakening, and saw the silly look on his face. She blushed in embarrassment and sat up quickly.

  "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to blather on."

  "You weren't," he said hastily. "I was listening very carefully." He held his arm out straight. "Tell me some more."

  She lay back down again, staring straight up at the sky. This time her face was solemn, and she said nothing for a moment. When she finally spoke her voice contained a note of sadness.

  "You know, ever since I can remember I have dreamed about this place," she said softly. "Until recently I had the same dream almost every night—I was out here in the dark, under the stars, holding out my hands to them. And in my dream the stars would fall from the sky and into my hands, and I could hold them fast; I would make a fist, and see them glimmer in between my fingers. Then I would wake up, and when I did, I always had an extraordinary feeling of happiness that would last through the morning at least."

  "And then my dream changed. I think it was when I was officially entered in the marriage lottery. I was eligible for it last year, but my father said it was too soon. This year it was unavoidable, and, despite my wishes, and theirs, my parents gave in to tradition and town practice and put me in like a horse on the auction block. My whole life is changing now, and my dream changed with it. Now, it comes much less frequently, and when it does it's not the same."

  "How is it different?" His voice was sympathetic.

  "Well, the beginning is similar. I'm here in the pasture, in the dark, and the stars are just as intensely bright as before, but when they fall into my hands they fall right through them; I can't hold on to them, and they tumble into the stream instead. I find myself looking down into the water, and the stars are lying there at the bottom of the stream, shining up at me."

  Gwydion felt the sadness in her voice seep into his heart. "Do you have any idea what it means, if anything?"

  "Yes, I think so," Emily replied. "I think I finally came to understand that all the things I had dreamed of seeing, and of doing, are not going to come to pass. That instead of seeing the world, and going off to study, and all the other marvelous adventures I had hoped to have when I was young, what actually will be my fate is what all my friends dream about—marrying someone of my father's choice, settling down and raising a family here in the valley. In a way, I had hoped to do that, too, eventually; I love this land, and I could be happy here. But— I thought—" Her words slowed and she fell silent.

  "Thought what?"

  "I thought there was going to be more for me. I know that's selfish and childish, but I had hoped that I would one day see the things and places that come to me in my dreams."

  "I think the change reflects my acceptance that this is never going to happen. That in a few days I will give up those silly hopes. I'll marry someone chosen from the lottery who, with any luck, will be kind to me, or at least not cruel, as some farm men are, and I will live and die here, never setting foot outside the valley. I guess I have known all along that would be the case. The dreams come even less frequently now. Soon I expect they will stop all together, and then I will forget them and get on with my life."

  Her words made his stomach turn. "No."

  "No?"

  Once again the pragmatism descended, and the answer was inordinately clear to him. Gwydion sat up, cross-legged, and pulled her up with him. "Emily, what are the courting customs here? What protocol do I follow to avoid the lottery and ask your father directly for your hand?"

  Emily's eyes sparkled, then almost immediately darkened again. "Oh, Sam," she said sadly. "He'll never let me go with you. He has saved for my dowry since I was a baby, kept these middle pasturelands for it, just to assure that whoever I married kept me here in the bosom of the family. He'd never consent to you taking me away."

  Gwydion felt as if he would vomit. He couldn't explain to her in words the urgency to get away from this place. "Then will you come anyway, Emily? Will you run away with me?"

  She looked down at her hands. His throat tightened and his shoulders began to tremble as he waited for the answer. Finally she looked up, and the expression in her eyes was direct.

  "Yes," she said simply. "It would be a real waste of a wish not to, don't you think?"

  Relief broke over him like a spray of cold water. "Yes; yes I do." He pulled her into a tight embrace, resting his hot cheek on hers. "Is there someone who can marry us in this village?"

  Emily sighed in his arms. "There will be in a few days, after the lottery. Everyone will be marrying then."

  Gwydion pulled her even closer. He had no idea how long they could delay leaving, but the risk would be worth it. He resolved to wait, and not frighten her unnecessarily.

  "Sam?"

  He released her reluctantly, and sat back, looking at her with new eyes. When the sun had risen that morning, he had been totally free, and utterly alone; his life was that of other boys his age, with little thought of the Future, and little belief in it.

  And now he was looking at his wife. He had always wondered what the other half of his soul looked like, and was delighted, and humbled, to see it was so incredible; he was actually amazed to know he even had one. The prospect of living by her side for the rest of his life filled him with a heady, if terrifying, feeling. In years to come, as he mourned her death over the endless
ly passing days of his lifetime, he would think back to this moment and remember the way she had looked when he first saw her with his new eyes, eyes that still believed that life held a great measure of love for him.

  "Yes?"

  "Do you think we might see the ocean? Someday, I mean."

  At that moment he would have truthfully promised her anything she asked of him. "Of course. We can even live there if you want. Haven't you ever seen it?"

  "I've never left the farmlands, Sam, never in my whole life." A faraway look came into her eyes. "I've always longed to see the ocean, though. My grandfather is a sailor, and all my life he has promised me that he would take me to sea one day. Until recently I believed it." She looked into his eyes and saw a trace of sadness there, and quickly looked away. Innately he could see that the sorrow he felt for her made her sad for him instead. When she looked back, her eyes were shining as though she had thought of a way to make him feel better. She leaned near him, and whispered as if imparting a great secret. "But I've seen his ship."

  Gwydion was astonished. "How can that be, if you've never seen the sea?"

  She smiled at him in the dark. "Well, when he's in port, it's actually very tiny—about as big as my hand. And he keeps it on his mantel, in a bottle. He showed it to me once when he came to visit."

  Tears stung his eyes. For all the famous and special people he had met in his life, he was sure that the purity of their collective souls couldn't hold a candle to hers. He was unable to breathe for a moment. When he did, he said exactly what his heart was thinking.

  "You are the most wonderful girl in the world."

  She looked at him seriously. "No, Sam, just the luckiest. And the happiest."

  His hands trembled as he touched her bare arms. Their kiss was deep, and held all the promise of a nuptial blessing. For the first time it was easy for him, and the difficult part was bringing it to an end.

  "Sam?" Her beautiful eyes were glistening in the light of the moon.