Fires of Aggar (46 page)

“No! I was… I mean you… I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Soroe.”

“And what if… Soroi?” Gwyn’s voice dropped low and her words grew rich with bold honesty. “What if I want you… to make my heart race a little faster… and my skin flush a little darker? What if I want to love you… am ready to love you — to touch you — in return, my sweet, sweet Llinolae? Would you still want me to be here… when you finish swimming?”

The loving warmth in both Gwyn’s voice and amarin reached to surround her, and Llinolae’s slight start of surprise yielded to pleasure. A slow smile grew on her lips as she breathed, “Sae, Soroi… ti Soroi….”

Gwyn’s gaze held hers steadily and neither smile nor assurance faded. She slipped from her clothes, noticing a deeper richness begin to glow in Gwyn’s paleness — the silverish light of the night nearly masking that subtle darkening of skin colors. Gwyn tipped her head to lay her cheek upon a knee and continued to smile at her.

Gwyn saw the question — the last faint brush of insecurity rising again. She smiled even more gently. “I will be here waiting… for whatever you want.”

Llinolae waded into the pool, glancing back slowing, then spinning ’round entirely. Eyes on Gwyn, she could barely breathe as she moved backwards through the waters — into something much deeper than sheer water, her heart realized.

Gwyn folded her arms over her knees and once again put her chin down, taking her own sweet turn at watching… anticipating. Then suddenly Llinolae was smiling and arching back into a joyous, twisting dive. Heels kicked up and toes flipped out, and she was gone in a splash that left Gwyn laughing in wet delight. And inside, Gwyn felt as silver as that spraying waters’ dance with the moons’ light.

Through her Sight, Llinolae felt Gwyn’s sleep stir, and she took her eyes from that silver dusted chasm so far above to smile as she found again an even more beautiful thing to behold. The midnight moon still bathed their canyon cove, and Gwyn’s naked figure, with milky light and the mossy bank, seemed almost as black as the moon’s own sky. But now there was the scattered wink and white sparkle of fine-pointed blossoms as well, which mirrored the stars themselves. Those delicate moss petals of llinolae blooms had opened to gasp the cool, misty air and drink their fill only after the midnight moon had chased the final dregs of day’s heat away. The wonder of her name-sake never ceased to amaze Llinolae, but tonight — tonight the enchantment was spellbinding, and she saw again that fleeting glimpse of Gwyn’s dive into the stars. Only now, there was nothing fleeting in this sweet vision of her beloved Niachero.

Pale-skinned in the moon’s light, one arm stretched in graceful curve above her head and the other resting beside her long length, Gwyn moved again in her waning sleep. A leg lifted slightly as a foot set flat. Her face turned towards Llinolae, cheek nuzzling against the downy soft petals that had uncurled there. Then she settled into her dreams once more.

Llinolae smiled, remembering how soft Gwyn’s skin had felt against her own, even softer than those tiny flowers could feel. She rose and left her rocky perch at the edge of the moss and returned to her place beside her Amazon. Careful not to touch nor disturb her yet, Llinolae lay down very near. For a long moment more, she could do nothing — needed to do nothing — but marvel at the tousle of fine silken hair, at the slender line of limb and proud peak of breast… at Gwyn asleep. Then a slow smile began, and Llinolae tipped her head, affection and desire mingling as she felt the coursing flow of amarin around them. Anticipation of Gwyn’s awakening prompted her to end their waiting.

She leaned forward with the gentlest kiss that softened, nibbled and again pressed full to warm Gwyn’s lips. A sigh of drowsy pleasure rose as she drew back to wait once more.

A deep, full breath parted Gwyn’s lips. The slow rise and fall of her breasts began a languid stretch of purring contentment. Her muscles went lazily limp again, hands still above her head, and eyes still closed in peace.

“I love you,” Llinolae whispered in welcome.

“And I—” The pause grew so long, Gwyn lying so quiet that if Llinolae had not held the Sight, she might have thought Gwyn slept again. But the sweet amarin around them told Llinolae she held her lover close with dreams and memories. And then Gwyn’s quiet voice came again, “Discover….”

Llinolae watched her curiously.

Gwyn breathed in the warm scent of their loving once more. Then with eyes unopening she began in a murmur…

“Across the breezes of the night
the scent — the brush… solely new…
comes velvet touch to linger.
Spoiling dreams of fantasy
in sultry tease of waking…”

Copper-hued eyes opened to Llinolae…

“To eyes of star-reflected light
to fond curved bow of welcome —
to kiss and pledge abandon…
Then leap! In fire — stunned. Eclipsed!”

Gwyn’s gaze locked to Llinolae’s own —

”Intoxicating blue descends,
claims and fully takes me whole.
Yet heed — ! More than all I’ve won.”

The words drifted into the night. The thrashing waterfall claiming them first, then the Forest’s great amarin absorbing each, until again Llinolae felt their pulse of richness beat against her harmon. Amazement made her blink, shaking her head a little.

Gwyn smiled up at her, simply loving her with that gaze. “You… are a poet?” Llinolae’s words seemed inane to even herself as she spoke. But she could not help the surprise… nor the growing delight.

“Sometimes poems, sometimes lyrics — when I am not carving my flutes. Or did you fear…” a sword-callused hand lifted half curled, stroking Llinolae’s cheek with the softer skin of a finger’s back, “that I only wrestle with ruffians and outwit schemers?”

“No,” Llinolae caught Gwyn’s hand and placed a kiss to her wrist. “I harbor no fear of who you might be, merely pleasure at discovering….” Her sentence went unfinished as pain crowded close, unbidden. “I fear there is so much of you I may never uncover as our duties tug to separate us.”

Fingers pressed her words silent. Gwyn shook her head, lips pursed in a reassuring hush. “There are paths around such dilemma, my Love. I know you’ve worried. As Dracoon you’re bound to District and service, and I know it will have to be my own life that adapts, if we are to be together.”

Llinolae’s brow knit. “I can’t bind you here, Gwyn. I… I couldn’t ask that of you — to trade Valley Bay for Khirlan. I could never ask that of you.”

“Then let me ask something else,” Gwyn amended, both hands rising to take Llinolae’s face. “I love you, Min Llinolae, Dracoon of Khirlan. With heart filled and past seasons discarded, I freely offer to join you in your Ramains’ District. Will you… do you… welcome me?”

The gasp caught in Llinolae’s throat not once, but twice. She felt herself begin to tremble and could barely comprehend it. Gwyn’s gaze grew tender as her own blurred in tears. Then the sob broke, and she collapsed into the strength of those waiting arms.

“Love… Soroi,” Gwyn held her, soothing her, protecting her… loving her undaunted. “Ti Mau coraen Kau….”

A weak laugh took Gwyn as she felt the tears wet her breast and the shudders run through her lover. She only gathered Llinolae nearer, teasing gently, “My dearest Blue Sight — how could you not expect this of me? I love you. You can See that, can’t you?”

Something of a nod answered the pause, and Gwyn drew back far enough to raise Llinolae’s gaze to meet hers. She searched her lover’s stricken expression for some way to reassure her. “I know what I’m doing. I know what I’m offering.”

The tears stopped. Llinolae felt her heart ache within her ribs. But she couldn’t deny, “I know you do.”

Gwyn stared at her hard, for a long, silent time. Llinolae almost flinched from what she knew Gwyn must see. She was ashamed of her own lack of courage in this, yet needing to share even that… she did not turn away.

“You’re afraid,” Gwyn voiced finally, her tone soft and unaccusing though it hinted of her surprise. “Of what we share — of what we could share? Much as you want it, you are afraid of this.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re thinking I’m not.”

Llinolae blinked, distracted by the very thought. Her blue eyes squeezed shut and her lips pressed tight as she struggled with common sense. Then she looked at Gwyn again and tried a smile, “Forgive me… you overwhelm me with… I’ve never imagined… or rather, barely imagined… anyone… like you….”

“I know.” Tenderness and understanding were shared as Gwyn nodded, “You are the same — for me.”

Llinolae felt that truth. She smiled again. “We’d be fools not to be afraid, wouldn’t we?”

“We’d be greater fools to deny our heartbond.”

“Aye. So yes, sae. Be welcomed in Khirla, my Love.”

“I come with a family.”

“I’ve always known that.” Llinolae gently took her turn in reassuring now. “With both Ril and Ty — I’d welcome all of you. If you’re certain this is what you want.”

“I’m certain.”

“And Valley Bay?”

A crooked smile granted much would be missed. “I’ll go for a visit now and again.”

“Your Oath of Duty?”

“I’ll wander when called. But the Wars are done. They’ll be looking to post Marshals on a more permanent basis. There’s no reason I can’t request assignment to Khirla’s Court. And the Royal Family has no policies against emotional liaisons.”

“You’ve thought this through.”

“Would you want me to offer, if I hadn’t?”

“No.”

“Well then—”

“Heartbound?”

“Sae?” Gwyn’s breath caught as joy sparked warm trust in the blue, blue depths of her lover’s eyes.

“Heartbound,” Llinolae accepted. Her lips turned up at the corners then as she watched the paleness of Gwyn’s skin begin to brown. Her pulse raced a little faster, desire rising to match her Amazon’s own. Eyes fused by their sheer wanting. The tension between them grew exquisite in the waiting, and Llinolae felt fire singe the remains of doubts to ash, leaving her bolder. “Heartbound, Soroi … have you a special rite to seal the contract?”

Llinolae’s tongue drew a line across her own lips, and Gwyn’s gaze flickered to her mouth — caught in fascination.

“Have you, Soroi?”

“Several,” Gwyn breathed, feeling her insides melt. Llinolae’s fingertips came to lie so lightly atop Gwyn’s heart — Gwyn’s body spasmed then froze, the very breath in her stopping. Slowly those long fingers stretched outward as palm pressed flat, softness warming hot.

“Something like this, perhaps?” Llinolae hovered so very close that their lips brushed with each syllable. Her touch drifted, cupping, yet not quite claiming the fullness of Gwyn’s breast.

Gwyn nearly laughed as patience snapped, and she arched into Llinolae’s palm, covering Llinolae’s hand with her own — laughter transcended into moan.

“Sae.” Llinolae approved. Her kiss found the delicious line of Gwyn’s collar bone. Her thigh slipped between Gwyn’s, and arms drew her nearer.

Abruptly a prickly shiver ran up along Llinolae’s back. She spun on her heel to thrust the canvas flap aside. The Great Forest cried — the amarin were today’s.

She searched for a clear sense of the alarm. Overhead, the thick static air of the imminent storm was still blowing east, though more sluggishly than last night. The winds rippled through the honeywoods above the canyon walls. The stream tumbled by. But of creatures — pripper or bird — there were no sounds.

Her Sight prodded again. A whisper of alarm, then the touch of a friend, seemed to dance along the amarin.

“Ty?” Confusion creased a line between Llinolae’s brows, and she stepped cautiously from the shelter of the tent.

Undeniably, it was Ty she Saw coming, from somewhere downstream and moving quickly, with urgency.

Why?

An image — the harmon of a wolf imposed upon a woman of height — leapt across her mind. Llinolae gasped, the strength of the picture striking hard. The imprint hit again. And in truth, it was a wolf she Saw. It was an animal like no sandwolf of her world, with a finely furred face and markings of amber-edged black upon white-gray. Yet within the ghost of that harmon was a tall woman of fiery bronze hair, though her features were obscured almost to vagueness by the power of the wolf image. The features of animal vied with those of human. Stature, structure — contradictions of four-footed in two seemed irrelevant, suddenly seeming to hold no contradictions at all!

Gwyn?

Llinolae choked, coughing and fighting for air with a hand to her stomach as she wrenched herself free from that emotional intensity. Then stumbling, she turned to re-enter the tent, seeking short bow and bolts along with the medicine purse. Because she finally understood. She was Seeing Gwyn as her bondmates could. And Gwyn needed Ty to bring help!

Waterskins, a long knife, and a pouch of trail rations hung from her belt as well as the medicine purse when Ty arrived. The sandwolf loped in amidst the waters of the stream, moving too fast to hide her tracks otherwise. But she barely paused at the camp’s edge as Llinolae donned a cloak over the bolt quiver and grabbed the bow, already running.

Ty rounded and was off. Boots splashed undaunted to follow her close.

Llinolae crouched behind the thicket of stone-moss, sandwiched between a rocky little crevice and an overshadowing tree root. Ahead in the twilight she Saw the disturbance of Clan scouts. Two on horseback, at least. They were apart and circling in different directions, though both had been near within the late afternoon. Somewhere about the male one, she felt the more familiar amarin of Ril and Cinder as the sandwolf led the mare in diverting tracks. But Llinolae could tell neither from track signs nor amarin if the scouts were working together, or if the male was the apprentice and the other some more experienced patrol member searching for him. Of Brit and Sparrow she felt no presence at all. So if this was the apprentice, he had certainly proved more wily than any of them had anticipated. And if it was not him, then the two were somehow working in tandem and might expect the rest of the patrol to rendezvous soon.