MOONDOCK (6 page)

“Later.”

Nodding at his stern refusal. “Come, bring her to my chambers.”

Leaving the elamie upon his mother’s bed, she was asleep before they left the room. “Do you have time to tell me about this one, now?”

“As I am early in returning, it would be best, before she wakes.”

Tarra did well to hide her unexpected pleasure over the way his eyes kept drifting back to the dark beauty. She had never seen Wylan show the slightest interest in an elamie, except for the basest of reasons. Was this one special? Her heart raced in hope while she listened to his brief, yet unusual explanation.

Glad when he finally left, Tarra shut the door to all curious eyes before going over to the sleeping elamie. Her fingers brushed back the fallen wisp of hair from the creamy brow. The fine, proud features touched by black satin were a pleasure to look upon. “Nemow? Are you such a little stranger, elamie?”

Tarra’s brow wrinkled in concern over the possibility. “From what Wylan said, you won’t like our ways, little warrior.” Shaking her head, her own silver streaked, black hair shimmered. “But neither can you escape them.”

Her dark gaze deepened in thought as she sat beside the stranger now under her son’s roof. “He didn’t say, but I know him better than anyone. No, he has not claimed you, as yet. Why? What held him back? I certainly wasn’t there as a hindrance.”

Tarra’s eyes widened in surprise. “Could it finally have come? Are you the one I have searched for?”

Rising abruptly, Tarra’s steps hastened for the purpose at hand. Calling to Wylan’s palace guards. “Stand fast at my chamber, no one is to enter. No one.”

She didn’t often exert her privileges in Wylan’s home, but for the little stranger it was necessary. Tarra would have her answers before the sun set. Her steps only faltered a moment over the one bit of information her son had given in parting.

“Sorceress?” Her eyes darted back to the door in caution. Very slowly her lips parted in confidence. “She acted to save a beloved beast, you failed to see that my son. But then most Selams are blinded by a beautiful elamie. She has accomplished much in such a short time.”

Her convictions concerning the girl increased, taking her to do what must be discovered before the night brought Wylan’s attention back to his charge. “This time you may not scoff at your mother’s persistence, my dear son.”

Secrets Unveiled

T
he mist pulling her down lifted to a confused world filled with strangers.

That voice? Yes, Melane remembered now, he’d called her mother. Struggling, she tried to match the voice to one of the women encircling her.

“Your eyes are the color of our ocean, my child. Here, drink this, it will take away all the confusion I see in your gaze.”

Melane’s silent objections faltered under the warm hand stroking her cheek. The warnings were lost to the soft caring darkness of the woman’s eyes. “That’s it little stranger, taste only the honey in my tea, let it soothe away your worry. What is your name?”

“Melane.”

“Melane, I am Tarra, Wylan’s mother. You may trust me as no other.”

Did she dare believe the sincerity she saw in the elegant lady? Melane longed for Shemon’s guidance.

“Drink it all Melane.”

The cup pressed again against her lips. Melane’s eyes went about to the women surrounding her, making her tense in wariness. She never saw his mother wave them away. They were all as old as the priestess, Narmar. All but Tarra, she was younger than Shemon and as pretty, even in age’s grace.

“They are my friends, Melane, and mean no harm.”

It was easy to accept this woman’s words; they relaxed her.

“There child, lie back into the pillows, you must still be very tired from your journey.”

“Yes, so far from Cibrac.”

Tarra watched the long lashes struggle to remain open. “Tell me about your home, Melane?”

Listening to the girl’s half conscious thoughts, Tarra waited patiently for the herbs to have their full effect over the elamie.

If she doubted the girl to be a stranger, the place and people she spoke of said she was indeed a Lamar Captain from Cibrac. Tarra was right in using the drug on her. She rather face Wylan’s wrath, than the fear and damage she might inflict on Melane without it. Something told Tarra the girl held more than just the promised, untouched seal of purity in her innocence. Subjecting an elamie to the test in full awareness was terrible enough, but it could be a devastating experience to an unknowledgeable child. Tarra knew very well the fear that could enter a child’s mind. She had been only sixteen when her own mother insisted she submit to this rite for Cristare. An elamie was trained since a toddler for her fate and its acceptance. If Tarra’s beliefs were true, nothing must mar the girl his son had found.

“Melane, tell me about this birthing rite, you speak of?”

The girls eyes were closed and her mind remained oblivious to the women Tarra called forward. Keeping her talking, the herbs influence would insure she stayed immune to their purpose.

When her words faltered as the air touched her bare thighs. “Tell me what the priestess do to the Syrons to create a life.”

With each of the older elamies holding the girl’s feet still, Tarra silently motioned two more to hold Melane’s shoulders. Sitting down beside Melane, her hand began to gently stroke the ivory skin about the black triangle of her womanhood. The girl’s words slurred and her legs tried to break free to combat Tarra’s touch, but Tarra’s moves were to calm a frightened child, only then would she begin the discovery.

“Melane listen to me…” Tarra’s other hand laid on the girls cheek ending her head tossing. “How have the priestess kept the life giving fluid all these years?”

“Before the sickness…I feel so strange…touches, please stop.”

“Hush Melane, tell me about your guards.”

Tarra cautiously looked at the women to see if they held any suspicions over the stranger’s words. Sickness? Could it be? Shaking her head against the possibility and long forgotten memories, Tarra concentrated only on the task she needed to complete. Once they were alone she would question the girl. No others must hear what she expected Melane’s words to be.

The girls agitated breathing increased with Tarra’s deepening purpose. “The Kibras sound cruel, Melane.”

“They are beast…ugh! I…don’t! Please stop.”

“Hold her!” Hissing at the women, Tarra was too close to stop now.

“Talk to me Melane, what of the beast Wylan calls Rolley?”

“But I feel so strange…Kaymog....”

The girl’s sharp cry ended her ramblings.

Tarra finally sighed with relief, the ordeal was over. “She is pure.”

A round of awed agreement echoed Tarra’s proclamation as the keen eyes perused the bloodied evidence. Carefully folding the soiled cloth before them, Tarra locked it away inside her jeweled chest. Turning back to the six women in attendance. “All of you have seen and witnessed the purity rite of the one called Melane. All will swear before the Selams to the purity of this elamie?”

The agreement came in a bold round of
yes
. In this no elamie would ever lie or be persuaded to, for they, the old ones, were above the Selams influence and not even a king could refute their proclamation.

Ushering them out of her chambers, Tarra held her excitement at bay until alone with the unconscious girl. For a stolen moment she gave thanks to the Mother God for answering her pleas. So many years, so many faces, but only one came with any value. “You may rest easy, my dear lord, our son will soon find what we vowed he would someday discover. Ah, Cristare, how worried I have been for him. How long I have searched.” Laughing softly to herself. “And it was Wylan, himself, that found her, just as you had me. He is definitely his father’s son.”

Looking down upon Melane, Tarra was relieved to see her face no longer contorted in pain. “It will be better when he does claim you…and he will, sweet child. Oh yes, my son has that same hunger in his eyes that his father’s held. Nothing, not even what you will soon do, will keep him from claiming what his heart already claims.”

The girl’s moan brought the woman down beside her. “There, there child. The pain will pass.” Tarra lifted Melane’s head up to take more of the herb tea. “We need to talk little warrior from Cibrac. Tell me again of the birth rite your priestesses perform, tell me all your beloved Shemon has confided to her daughter.”

And Melane spoke of the sacred rites, answering all the gentle voice asked.

“Now Melane, tell Tarra how it came to pass, that the Nemow priestess sent you to find the Selams.” Tarra smiled sadly over the useless struggle the girl waged against the drug. Two doses so close together stole away the little warrior’s will to refuse her. And Tarra listened to the strange telling of how these women of Cibrac continued to flourish without Selams and against the threat the brutal Kibras posed.

Shemon’s comforting face came before Melane’s wild eyes. Clasping the offered hand, Melane held it to her cheek. “Forgive me Shemon, I have failed you.”

“No Melane, you have not failed, you have found the ancient Selams that left the Nemows so long ago.”

“But he is their king…I didn’t know, my insults were unforgivable. He scares me so, I know nothing of this male, this man.”

Tarra smoothed the damp brow, letting Melane’s troubled words come for Shemon. “Do you remember how they left us?”

“Yes, the plague killed so many, the survivors left our lands.”

Tarra’s lips trembled over the words she feared would come from the girl. “No Selam has been in Cibrac since?”

“No, not even male children are born. Tell me what to do Shemon? You said to do whatever was necessary, I need guidance.”

Holding the girl in her arms, Tarra rocked the troubled Melane. “Your Nemows are the ones, aren’t they child? So much danger comes with you, but you know not of our seer’s teachings. No, you only came as a messenger of the past…the innocent they told of.”

Could the old ones words be for this child?

“No! I will not believe such fantasy.”

Tarra fought with the knowledge she had just learned and the secret she decided to hold silent. “Tell me, Melane, do you have powers?”

The girl’s answer startled Tarra, forgetting she was still held under the drugs power.

“Shemon said I had my mother’s gift. Sabrina had the powers, more than any other Syron.”

So Shemon was not her true mother. “Where is Sabrina?”

“Dead. The priestess Narmar killed her, can’t be proven.”

Tarra’s brow rose over the revelation. The Nemows weren’t immune to enemies.

“And do you have Sabrina’s powers, Melane?”

The girls agitation over the question, took all of Tarra’s soothing to calm. She didn’t leave her until Melane fell into a deep restful sleep.

~*~

The swirling clouds parted before Melane’s steps. A strange floating feeling surrounded her as she drew closer to the crowd of Selams.

Many were in deep conversation, paying her no mind, as if she wasn’t really a part of their world. Like a forest imp, she moved about them, in and out of their circles, causing nary a blink with her clamping antics or snapping fingers in front of their eyes.

Realizing she was somehow hidden from their awareness made Melane bold in their company. She went from group to group, studying these strange new beings, watching how they moved, such confidence, and how their deep throated laughter flowed like an earthly tune over her heightened senses. She ran her hands freely over their bulging muscled shoulders, amazed at the dormant power in their bodies.

Moving deeper into their midst, as if drawn by an unseen force, Melane soon saw who she was being lead to. “Wylan!” Ah, but he was magnificent, standing out from all the others with his strength and regal bearing.

King. Yes he could be no other.

Melane moved in a circle around him. Her fingers lightly brushed the powerful arms, making herself dizzy over the rush of warmth flowing into her fingertips. “My Selam.”

She spoke freely of the strange calling coming over her for Wylan. She felt such a thrilling excitement connecting them. Standing in front of him, she commanded him to see her, wishing him to give only her his attention. Rising up on her toes she brushed away one of the silken obsidian waves from his brow. Once touched, Melane couldn’t stop her fingers from delving into the thick rich mass.

Her pleasure was dampened by his lack of response to her ardent caresses. The dream held no purpose and Melane wanted reality with Wylan, even his anger that held so much vitality and life.

Her anger allowed his words to penetrate her concentration.

“They are fools to attack our fortress.”

“But Gallen refuses all peace talks.”

So it was war they gathered to discuss. Melane’s faltering interest was rekindled and she gave Wylan her full attention.

“The Sylvans will be as old men in battle against us. Wolfen, I want you to try again to reach Gallen for a meeting. He has always been reasonable in the past, something is not right for him to act so rashly against us.”

“I will leave in the morning.”

Another voice, almost a whisper, intruded upon the conversation. Looking at Wylan, he gave no indication of hearing what disturbed Melane.

Listening harder, there, it came again--the low murmur. An eerie chill crept about her legs, as if she could feel the approaching anger moving towards them.

Spinning about, Melane searched the faces near them, trying to find who was sending such ill thoughts at Wylan.

“…he will fall…his strength won’t help our young king.”

The hairs on her neck stood out, without thinking she moved in front of Wylan to protect him from the evil.

“Soon Wylan, I will destroy you. Your death will leave your kingdom in my power. Only you stand in my way.”

A dark shadow slipped slowly about the back of the crowd. Running towards it, Melane skirted the groups of unaware men cursing their blindness to the threat against their king.

The shadow was faster, sliding away into the darkness beyond the open veranda.

Standing there in the night’s blackness Melane searched for the one who spoke of harming Wylan. Finding nothing, she tried to go back to Wylan only to have the distance grow between them, pulling her farther and farther away until only the clouds again filled her vision.

“Wylan, I must warn him of the danger, let me go back!”

“What danger Melane? What threat stalks my son in your seeing dreams?”

The power of sight deserted the girl, leaving her shaking under a fierce chill. Wiping her face Tarra tucked the fur corners in about the shivering girl. “So my son was right, you do have the powers.”

The drug must have brought on the vivid dream. Melane spoke much during the waking sleep. Tarra heard the girl’s awe over Wylan, saw her hands rise to touch the image she could only see.

She also saw the frightened panic in Melane over words no other could hear. Tarra knew Melane had been given a warning for her son.

“Sleep now my little warrior, tomorrow I will explain many things to you.” How the child would take Tarra’s revelations troubled her deeply. Melane would not easily accept the Selam’s customs concerning elamies. Somehow Tarra must make her understand.

~*~

Wylan saw his mother leaving her chambers. Fearing his anger would control him he didn’t stop her departure. Later, when his temper cooled over what he learned, then maybe he could speak to her in a civil manner.

Entering the candle lit room Wylan approached the bed chamber. The elamie was sleeping and didn’t stir at his entrance.

Drawn by her, Wylan sat upon the bed. Taking her small hand in his, he was again amazed at how delicate she truly was. Like satin against leather.

In the flickering light she looked pale against the dark furs. When her lips moved Wylan leaned closer to hear her softly spoken words.

“Be careful Wylan.”

Setting back, he waited, but she gave nothing more in her troubled sleep. Tossing against whatever dream held her, Wylan’s senses tensed, knowing he had seen her like this before.

Seeing the cup by the bed, he thought to ease her parched lips, but the strong smell coming from the cup made him bring it under his nose.

“Ugh! What manner of tea has she given you?”

Rising, Wylan straightened to his full height over the unlikable thoughts coming to him. “So it is true what the old elamies whisper.”

“Yes Wylan, I gave Melane the purity test.”

He spun on his mother. “Drugging her to do it?”