He had not
expected to feel intense pain. He had not expected extreme joy.
She whispered in
the dark: ‘Follow me,’ and he followed.
He was curious,
and he tripped over his feet on the unfamiliar path.
She was
anticipatory, and her tread was sure.
They descended a
rise, the path steep and dangerous in the dark.
Lycea had come
as a child? Good god. Where was she taking him? He did not know this place and
would not know it even in bright sunshine, yet he had lived nearby for many
years. If magic summoned he had been deaf to this call…perhaps it had been a child’s dream, and she would
soon be disappointed. Yet, yet, a
feeling of recognition washed over him, bathing him in its warm glow. He felt
alive.
‘Careful,’ she
whispered, holding him back as he came abreast of her. At her touch a powerful
surge of emotion erupted within, leaving him breathless and fighting to gain
control. She sensed it and tightened her hold on his arm briefly before letting
her hand drop away. ‘We can’t go further; there’s a sheer drop at our feet. Sit
with me; it will be dawn soon.’
Rustling sounds
as she sat on the damp grass. He was surprised by his heightened awareness.
Slowly he did the same, and was careful not to touch her. What was the matter
with him? He had made love to her, loved her, liked her, and had never felt
this way in her presence before. Discovering her body should not bring forth
this feeling of power, of helplessness, dear Aaru, what a paradox, and this underlying
joy…peace almost. Well, it should, but not so strongly, and not without equal
measures of guilt to balance it. There was no guilt, and he could not even imagine
it here.
And why did he
feel as if he had been at this place, this time, many occasions, when he knew
he had not? What were they waiting for? He hoped, for her sake, it was real.
Gradually the
dark gave way before the light. Sunrise was imminent. He could now see her
sitting patiently beside him, her face peaceful, incredibly different from the
day before. She was expectant…and a little doubtful. She glanced at him and
smiled. Once again his heart lurched. A bond, that’s what it was, more than
love…but what? Why this recognition? Was it this place?
‘Patience,’ she
admonished, mistaking his confusion. ‘This magic appears only with the sun’s
rays, but watch carefully, for it doesn’t last long, only minutes. You don’t
want to miss a single second…oh, look, look, the sun is peaking over, and it’ll
hit the water soon…’ She faced forward, and, smiling, he did the same. The
feeling overcame him then that this was important, more so than anything in his
life.
They were in a tiny
clearing at the end of an overgrown path, and to the sides were tall trees made
impenetrable by dense undergrowth. The flooding had not reached here; this was
high ground. Ahead lay a perfectly circular pool of smooth water, mountain cold
and dropping straight into the earth. It was so perfect it was debatable
whether it was nature’s work. The water began mere inches from where they sat,
the path ending abruptly at the water’s edge, and he couldn’t guess how deep it
was, nor could he see anything under the surface. It was black and ominous, and
a feeling of dread caused him to shift.
‘Don’t be
afraid,’ she whispered, sensing his unease, and he looked at her sharply. She
could read him now? What magic was this? ‘Nothing here can harm us,’ she added.
On the far side
of the pond a dark cliff-face, higher than the rise they descended earlier. He
sensed water running down the stone face, but could not hear it or see where it
entered the pond; it did not disturb the unnaturally smooth water. It was
supernaturally silent, and the air was expectant. Looking up he saw the first
luminous line of the rising sun above the wall of stone ahead. They faced
east…and there was definitely magic in the region.
‘Concentrate
now,’ she said, and was agitated.
And then the
first rays shot over the rim and bathed them in welcome. All feeling of dread
was instantly dispelled. Moments, a heartbeat, later and the sun’s tentacles
sank into the dark pool. And before his disbelieving eyes the water changed, a
metamorphosis. The dark gave way to sylvan emerald, as if someone had washed a
blank canvas in glorious colour. The stone face lit with impossible hues,
scientifically impossible given the degree and angle of light, and then
something even stranger happened. The light on the water skittered and
shattered into…lo! dancing rainbow sprites and imps, fairy butterflies, all in
abandoned, uninhibited delight, dancing upon the water and about the
cliff-face. As he watched, entranced, his rational mind thinking it had to be a
trick of the light, more rays flung into the pond and, wonder upon wonder, his
imagined sprites and imps and fairies leapt high into the air, dancing
joyously. Real? They were real?
‘Impossible,’ he
breathed.
‘You see it? The
colours, the little ones?’ Tearing her gaze from the wondrous spectacle she
looked at him, and smiled in appreciation. His grey eyes were filled with
colour, his face rapturous. How right she had been in bringing him. Deep down
she had known he would see it…what strange twist of fate had brought them to
this place together? How had he known to transport them here? She stood and
moved over to him, crouching behind him, putting her arms over his shoulders.
His hands came up and clasped hers tight.
He had seen many
different races in his time, and heard of many others. He had read works both
factual and fiction, and always he kept an open mind…but sprites and imps he had
heard of only in tales for children. Fairies he knew existed, although these
were children’s fairies before him, not the fairies of reality- they were
bigger- but he had not ever entertained the idea of the others as being real.
He was wrong; his mind expanded that little more that morning.
‘From the bottom
of my heart I thank you for this.’
The Sunless One
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