by Gabi Moore
Ghal looked over at Bamet and Khara and nodded.
“It is said,” he began, slipping back into his familiar story-teller rhythm, “that the cities of the Elder Men still stand. Some are in ruins. Some fell, into deep crevices that opened up to swallow their houses, their great houses that reached into the sky. Some are filled with water, deeper than any lake, deeper than any man could swim. Only the tops of their tallest towers can be seen, still aglow.
“All are dangerous, but it is said that brave men and women have journeyed to pay homage to the old ones, the dead ones.”
Khara spoke up in a half-whisper. “Why must it be this one?”
She was understood perfectly; there was an eeriness, even apart from their sorrow for their lost friends. Something unnatural on this mountain. Unnatural, or perhaps merely unearthly. In any case, it made the familiar tale uncomfortable.
“Yes,” Rell answered.
They all looked at her, uneasy.
Rell was still staring into the smoking, guttering fire. “Yes, it must be this one.”
There was no more discussion after that. Ghal began, the old parable about the brave shaman, Henra, how he’d journeyed to the land of the lost Elder Men, those who had so resembled gods, following a voice in his dreams, in his head…
Henra had gone to them, those who had died thinking they were gods. It was said he’d met them, communed with spirits of the departed that still lingered on in the old places. He’d returned, bringing some pieces of their world back with him. The Scim was rumored to have been retrieved by Henra’s hand.
But what had killed the Elder Men also lingered on in their empty houses. Henra carried it back inside him, and it withered him slowly. Even those who tended him grew sick, if less. The ones who touched and carried the artifacts brought back grew weak and thin.
Soon Henra was gone, leaving his people with only a handful of haunted tokens as a reminder that when you travel to the realms of gods, or even just those who consider themselves gods, you do not return the same.
***
Nemlach and Taren moved as fast as possible through the clear air. Without warning, the storm had vanished like a nightmare, leaving a surreal world of depthless sky, bright stars, and fiery colors of the gods’ lights above. Star-Reach stood fast against the night, catching the light of the full moon and glowing like the shadow of a white flame.
It was perfectly clear, and against the pristine white of the peak’s face, Taren and Nemlach could clearly see a line of tracks that ascended toward the sky, toward the highest summit. Laova.
“Come on,” Taren panted. “Almost there! These tracks… aren’t old!” They were practically fresh, in fact.
Nemlach was feverish again; maybe it was just exhaustion and the altitude. He felt cool under his hides, and tried to ignore it. Until a short time ago, he’d been plenty warm from the exertion of hiking up this damned mountain. But a little before they’d broken into the open air…
“I’m going,” he growled.
“Gods,” Taren whispered. Without the storm to struggle through, he moved easily through the shallow snow. “The stars are so close! And the… the spirit lights!”
The lights were not an uncommon sight, but Nemlach had to agree, he’d never seen them like this. They seemed to surround the mountain. They were above the clouds, now, so nothing of the world existed except this mountain, those stars, the phantom moon and the lights of the gods, gods that could not have been far off.
And Laova. Laova was here, at the end of this trail. Was she all right? What had brought her here? Did Nemlach even want to know?
He decided he didn’t, but it was too late for that.
The summit was near. Thirty paces, up a steep, snowy grade, jutting with steps that almost seemed deliberate. Nemlach and Taren rushed to climb them, eager and terrified to meet what they would find at the top. It was close.
The air was so thin. Nemlach tried not to let Taren see how difficult it was, how dizzy he felt. He slugged behind, despite his best efforts to keep up.
“Nemlach! What’s… taking so long?” Taren asked, breathily.
Nemlach shook his head. He wasn’t going to admit it.
To his shock, Nemlach felt an arm around his waist.
“I don’t feel—like expla—explaining to—Laova—why I left you—staggering up—the hill.”
So together, they worked upward. Taren went slower, but Nemlach went faster, and they moved steadily toward what they both wanted.
Ten paces… Nemlach’s vision was blurry every few breaths. Maybe he was too old.
Five paces… The terrible possibility that they were about to find Laova dead, or worse, still missing, arose. Nemlach could hardly bear to contemplate it, but now that it was in his mind, it persisted as he and Taren hiked up the four, then three, then two paces left.
And then they were standing at the top of the world.
“Laova!”
Both of them said it at once, and she turned, shocked to find them here. She didn’t need to say in words what she thought; Nemlach could see clearly on her face the stages of surprise as first she realized they were here, then realized they were here together.
His breath caught; a tiny part of Nemlach had believed that he was never going to see Laova again, and here she was, no worse for wear. Her hood and scarf were down—her face was going to freeze and she’d lose both her ears if she didn’t cover up soon. But she was here, alive. They’d done it. They’d found her.
Nemlach took a step toward her. Laova backed away.
He realized how close she was to a precipice, a rocky cliff that cut out of the flat summit and looked over what was likely a steep fall onto the crags below.
“Careful, Laova!”
“Please stay back,” she pleaded urgently. “You aren’t supposed to be here.”
“Come down,” he urged gently. Nemlach didn’t try to approach. “Come down, tell us what’s… going on.” He didn’t try to get closer, just stood as passively as could be, waiting for her to make her own move. Taren stood back, uncertain and willing to let Nemlach handle this unexpected situation.
“I’m going,” Laova told him. Did his vision blur at just the wrong time, or was there sadness, real sadness in her eyes?
“Going where?” he asked. And yet… something seemed wrong. Nemlach felt it clearly, gradually growing like the dawn. An energy seemed to blossom, and it tingled the hairs on his arms and neck unpleasantly. The space around them seemed thick, not with driving snow or wind or anything visible, anything tangible. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it at all.
“Laova, come back with us!” Taren exclaimed suddenly. His voice was a little shrill and panicky; he felt it too, then, whatever bizarre force that filled their ears and eyes and pressed against their skin. Nemlach held out an arm to stop Taren before the kid could dart forward. He knew what Taren felt, the urge to run up to Laova, grab her by the arm and physically carry her away. It wasn’t safe here. It wasn’t right here.
“I’m going,” she repeated.
This was not reassuring; she clearly did not mean ‘going with them’, going back to safety, back to their village.
“Going where?” Nemlach asked.
Laova hesitated. It was evident in every line of her body as she looked at Nemlach—regret. It hurt worse than if she had carelessly sauntered off, run into the night without a backward glance.
“I’m so sorry, Nemlach.”
“Then come back with us,” Nemlach murmured, trying to hold her eyes.
There was a second—just one—where Laova relaxed. Her shoulders came down, and her wide eyes blinked. She even took a half step in his direction. The tightness in Nemlach’s chest, that which had been there since the moment he reached for Laova in the dark and did not find her, loosened. It was the moment he believed he might actually convince her.
But then, everything turned bright. It was as if the spirit lights had closed in around them, wrapped around them like a cloth. The
re was a humming, then a roaring in Nemlach’s ears, like he was falling.
In the next moment, all the colors had blinked out, gone. And gone, too, was Laova.
Despair shook Nemlach to his core.
“Laova!”
He ran, or ran as best as he could, to the ledge. The last thing he ever wanted to see was Laova’s mangled body on the slopes, falling away, but he had to know. Not knowing was going to kill him. But there was nothing, not even a blemish to suggest anything had landed below.
“Laova!” he shouted. “LAOVA!”
***
When the light touched down and took her, Laova had shut her eyes; she had no choice, really. It was far too bright to even try keep them open. It had been terrifically, breathtakingly cold on Star-Reach. It had been sinking into her bones, although in her excitement Laova had hardly noticed.
So when the cold vanished, it was the first thing she felt. The warmth was welcome, healing. She realized that her nose and ears were numb as prickling sensation seeped back into them.
And then, she realized that she wasn’t wearing her hides any longer. She felt naked without them; instead, a light garment flowed from her shoulders and was sashed around her waist. She was standing barefoot on a fur; she felt it between her half-frozen toes.
Laova swallowed past a sudden dryness in her throat. She shook, and tried to tell herself it was only an after-effect of the mountain cold.
“Welcome.”
The shaking got worse.
Laova didn’t open her eyes. This voice was familiar, but also different. It was solid, real. It filled her ears, and fluctuated with the imperfections of a physical body. It was deep and resonant.
The warmth was soothing her stiff muscles and sore skin. Through her eyelids, she could see the hint of gentle light. Firelight; she heard it crackling.
“Open your eyes, Laova. You’re safe here.”
She swallowed dryly again. Slowly, Laova cracked open her eyelids and looked around.
To her surprise, she was in a canvas tent. It was large; the commune tent back in her village wasn’t even quite this size. Dark alcoves and cozy corners reached out, away from the central hearth that merrily burned and gave off a wonderful, radiant heat. Fur lined the floor; heaps of cushions and hides were spaced about, more than she’d ever seen.
She looked down at herself, to see that she was wearing light, loose gown of something soft and sheer. Her people didn’t have anything like it; she couldn’t imagine a loom that could produce such fine cloth, or a wheel that could spin such tiny thread. And it was black, purely black, austere and elegant. It might have been dipped in the night, for its color.
“I thought you might like it.”
The voice was behind her, a respectable distance back. Laova straightened her spine, quite certain she was not ready, and turned around anyway.
She didn’t know what she expected. Her visions had never revealed his face or form, so she had half assumed he would appear as nothing but a diaphanous shadow. The thought was ridiculous, in retrospect, as she looked at the form he’d taken. He was tall and broad of shoulder, perfectly so. His skin was dark and rich, much darker than even Khara’s, and molded over great, muscles arms and a great, muscled chest. His black hair was long and flowing, his beard short and neat.
He came to her in only trousers, which caused Laova a moment of tremulous anxiety. But he was such a man to look at… Her eyes rose to his face.
Relief filled her. His expression, his eyes, were gentle. When she’d heard him speak in her mind, he spoke with such power, such strength, that Laova had truly expected—and dreaded—a fiercer look when they finally met face-to-face. She was happily mistaken.
“Who are you?” she asked.
He smiled, a slight pull of his lips. “You know me as the Sky Father.”
Laova stared. “Truly? Why… why am I here?”
“I told you why you’re here.”
Laova flushed. Yes, he had, and heart frantic heart driving blood to the corresponding places would not let her forget it.
“Yes,” she agreed. “And I came to you, still. But… could I know why?”
The Sky Father walked towards her. He did not threaten nor intimidate. His very presence was soothing, except for the agitation he caused in her blood, the excitement he caused… He stopped before her. Tenderly, he reached up and tucked her hair behind her ears.
But then, his hands, large and warm and sure, trailed down to her shoulders. Laova’s heart was racing, racing, as her mind seemed stuck, as if it were still frozen as a rock on the summit of Star-Reach. His hands slipped around her rib cage. Through the thin fabric, it seemed as though she was already naked, especially when his thumbs traced the edges of her breasts, bringing their tips to hard points.
“Yes, you can,” he replied. “Much of it you cannot understand, not in this moment. But I will explain in full. For now, I have waited many years for you, Laova, and if you are in agreement, I think it’s time.”
His thumbs crossed over her nipples, and Laova was in agreement.
“Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, it’s time.”
Smiling again, the Sky Father leaned down to kiss her.
“But… will I be allowed to go back?” Laova asked, afraid of the answer.
He stopped. A very deep sadness entered his eyes, and he nodded. “Yes. You will not want to, but you will be allowed to go back. You will have to.”
He reached up tugged the sash loose from Laova’s waist. The gown fell off her shoulders of it had merely fallen apart, and she stood there, naked, trembling. The Sky Father looked down at her body and brought his lips to hers, and Laova’s hesitation melted.
His fingers returned to her breasts, teasing and plucking at the sensitive skin there, as he kissed her. Laova kissed back, enthusiastically; he tasted like… well, he tasted like summer. She could feel the sun and the rain on her tongue as his dashed over it, and his face near hers gave off radiance very much like sunlight.
One of his hands circled around and crushed her hips to his, and his hardness ground against her belly; she reached up and tugged blindly on the straps that held his trousers closed. He didn’t stop her. When the pants fell down his long, strong legs he stepped out of them easily and lifted Laova to carry her to the great mass of pillows and furs near the fire.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured against her mouth. His breath, too, had grown short. He was over her, holding his weight up on his arms as he gazed down at her naked body; Laova’s body was trembling with need, and he seemed to know it. “I had intended for this to be slow, and more careful.”
Laova moaned and reached up to hook his neck and bring his lips back down to hers. “Not slow—fast.”
“Not too fast,” he replied in a murmur. He kissed her, less gently than before. “Dear one, you have never lain with a man before, much less with a god. Be careful what you ask for.” His hands returned to her breasts, caressing, driving Laova mad with need.
His warning was a wise one, and Laova bore under his hands with it in mind, writhing, letting her hands drink in the shape and angles of his body to try and distract herself from his patience. His legs rested between hers, so close to where they needed to be… Laova inched upwards slightly, aligning herself with the very erect proof that he wanted her, as much as she wanted him, now, right now…
The Sky Father seemed amused and wise to her tricks. He slid down her body and Laova’s mind shambled apart again when he began working her nipples around his mouth, with his lips, his tongue. Now his abdomen pressed in the aching place where her thighs met, and it was not enough.
“Please,” she whispered. “I can’t bear this…”
The Sky Father kissed her again, and one of his hands reached down, pleasuring her until she gasped. “If you can’t bear this, how do you expect to bear me?”
She looked at him, and saw the humor in his face. She sighed, then gasped again at his hand’s tantalizing motions.
“Please,” she
asked again in a shaking whisper. “You brought me here for this… don’t make me wait…”
“Dear one, you’ve waited only a short time for this,” he pointed out, lips against her ear. His breath was ragged, almost as ragged as Laova’s. “But I will do as you ask. Hold on to me.”
Laova did, desperately, and the Sky Father moved squarely between her legs. She felt it pressing against her, felt his hands help part the way, and then his hips were pressing against her legs and he was inside her.
It was everything she’d ever hoped. The Sky Father pulled back and thrust in again, and she cried out. Her very core roared agreement, and the Sky Father’s body pulsed and moved within her. Everything disappeared—she forgot about the people she’d known, and her village, and her harrowing journey up Star-Reach. Something in Laova’s mind opened fully, as if a window had been suddenly thrown open.
And suddenly, Laova knew what a window was.
Her climax twisted her and she felt as though she were breaking, but all the while, she saw things, understood things, that hadn’t existed a moment ago. The Sky Father lay within her, spent, breathing heavily in the aftermath of their hurried consummation. He looked down at her, curiously.
And Laova blinked, thinking. Her muscles were loose and swampy with languor, but that was all right. All of the sudden, she had a lot to think about.
***
“Laova!”
Taren kept shouting it, running back and forth as if she might suddenly appear without warning. “Laova!”
Exhausted, Nemlach leaned against a rock. She was gone. She’d just disappeared; along with the spirit lights. If he’d looked over the edge of the summit, Nemlach would have been able to watch the storm cloud below dissipate and dissolve, as well. As if its purpose had been served, it simmered out and vanished, leaving a glorious vista of the valley below.
