The Tales of Two Seers

by R. Cooper

  No one suggested sending Martin, not that Martin had expected them to, or wanted to end up eaten, if dragons really did that. Martin was not the most beautiful or the most talented. But his mother was outraged that Martin wasn’t insulted, even though she admitted, loudly, to everyone, that her son was not handsome or clever, that he could cook and sew but not wield a club or run the mill. Everyone had agreed. Martin had agreed.

  But when his mother left the house, Martin left, too, walking toward the woods without another word, though it was already night.

  If fairies or other creatures in the woods wished to take him, Martin was inclined to let them. He scrubbed his burning eyes and followed the dots of blue and purple that went to and fro across the path. White rocks and red swirls did not stop them, or anything else in these woods. Whatever walked here did so because it chose to, not because humans had exiled it or bound it.

  Martin had never thought of it as a choice before, but it must be. Maybe those in town pretended otherwise, and painted symbols to try to make themselves matter in this wild place. Martin could stay here, too, but he was not wild. He was a human who liked an oven and a spinning wheel.

  “They do not want me in town,” he said, teeth chattering slightly in the cold. “My mother does not…” he could not finish that shameful thought aloud. Not here, where he was tolerated, perhaps even liked.

  He did not see the doe when he stopped by the stream to splash his stinging eyes with icy water, nor when he walked to the oak to curl up beneath it. He hadn’t brought dinner, or even his cloak to keep him warm. He pressed his forehead to the bark and closed his eyes.

  Maybe he could run away to live with Alyce, if she would allow it. Someday, he could build his own place, far from the path but also far from town. If the woods would have him.

  “Would you,” he asked softly. “Would you have me?”

  Not even Martin was foolish enough to expect an answer. Yet he sat, breathing harshly and shivering, waiting for nothing, until his eyes were dry and the moon was high overhead.

  MARTIN DID NOT want to go home, so he stayed. He drifted through owls calling and the chatter of raccoons. He grew numb to the cold. He did not think he slept, but he was warm in his bed one moment and in the midnight blue of the woods the next. He was cushioned and comfortable, his face no longer pressed to hard bark. It was a struggle not to immediately fall back asleep, but something told him to keep his eyes open.

  He was still beneath the tree, though he had turned to lean against something else, and he half-thought the doe had returned, but this felt much bigger. A pressure at his back held him up, like an arm around him might feel, and the gentlest breeze stirred his hair and made him murmur in sleepy complaint as he lifted his head.

  The shape above him might have been more branches, if branches breathed, and had hair that reached their shoulders and which tickled Martin’s ear when he moved.

  Martin tensed, abruptly wide awake, and the creature supporting him tensed as well. Martin was pressed to bare skin. He splayed his fingers over stiff muscles and chest hair and realized he was using a shoulder for a pillow. This was a human, a sort of a human, a spirit of magic with a large body and the curl of antlers at the top of its head.

  Martin reached up to touch the antlers without thinking, then froze, staring into faintly shining eyes. The rest of the creature’s face was shadowed. Martin was close enough to feel the creature’s breath against his lips.

  “Am I dreaming?” Martin asked, nearly flinching at the sound of human words in this place. The creature who had been keeping him warm did not answer. “How are you not cold?” Martin wondered in the next moment, his hand falling back to the naked chest. He did not look down to see if the rest of the creature was naked, though it must be. It was no fairy, nor anything else Martin had heard of. It was bearded, and big enough for its steps through the woods to frighten a foolish Martin.

  Martin’s fingers gently tugged on the beard without his say-so. He did not know what had come over him, except to wonder if he still dreamed.

  The beard was almost lush. Martin found the corner of a mouth with his fingertips and he jerked his hand away, only to then slide it upward to feel the beard again. Scarcely breathing, he explored the shell of an ear, then ventured higher, to the thick base of one antler. The creature made a small, startled sound and Martin stopped, blushing hard.

  He would have pulled back, but the next noise the creature made was low, a hum Martin felt wherever they touched. Then the creature turned its head toward him, bowing its neck as if in invitation for Martin to go on.

  If the creature was there for Martin’s soul or to harm him, it could have done anything while Martin slept. It could have tempted him now with more than a simple shudder and placing itself in Martin’s hands.

  Martin exhaled roughly as he traced the outline of a handsome face. He did not know if many in town would account a forest spirit handsome, if antlers and size and magic would put them off, or make them pretend to be put off. But the creature was undeniably strong and warm, with a curl to its hair and a wild scent that brought more heat to Martin’s cheeks. He’d had his share of tumbles in the woods just outside of town, and the traces of moss and bark in the air, or the creature’s bared body, had him remembering things he should not.

  “You’re incredible,” Martin murmured, a sad fool, and the creature grunted before placing a hand beneath Martin’s chin. It was a five-fingered hand, almost human, except so much larger than Martin’s own. Martin’s face was gently tipped up and inspected while the creature used its other hand to pet through Martin’s short hair.

  Maybe it thought humans greeted each other this way. But Martin couldn’t help a shiver and the immediate, almost embarrassing lick of arousal in his middle. The way the creature gave his hair a curious tug made him groan before he could control himself. He might have felt shame at being so desperate, but the creature was breathing harder, and something in Martin liked that sound very much.

  “Is this your tree?” Martin whispered with the creature’s heart pounding beneath his palm. “Are you the only one in these woods? Have you watched me all this time?” Watched Martin stumble and cry and smile at nothing. Yet it was here, still watching Martin. “Did you like the cake?” Martin asked next, flushed hot. He splayed his fingers, and because he was odd, and lonely, and the creature was handsome, Martin considered what might be between the creature’s legs and if he would be permitted to touch. “I’m wrong, you see,” he explained to a creature that might not even understand him. “No one else wants me.”

  A thick thumb pressed to Martin’s lower lip, tasting of salt and soil when Martin darted out his tongue.

  “I would have you,” said the creature in a deep, inhuman voice.

  Martin shut his eyes and shook at the feel of those hands in his hair and those slow, carefully spoken words. He opened his eyes again so that he could push himself up to attempt a kiss, a bold act that left him dazed. The creature’s mouth tasted of spring water and its every touch was hot. It moved its hands down to hold Martin tight and did not object to Martin’s kisses, though it seemed uncertain of how to kiss back. At least, how to kiss back on Martin’s mouth. It was swift to kiss him elsewhere, complaining with another grunt when Martin shifted away, and then fiercely kissing the skin Martin bared by removing his shirt.

  Warmed all over, Martin dared to reach between its legs, but found himself pushed back. He had only a moment to despair that he was not even wanted here, and then the creature was in front of him, hands on Martin’s legs. It did not seem to know how to open Martin’s trousers, so Martin did it for him, clumsy but smiling when he was graced with more human words.

  “I would have you,” the creature said again, soft hair falling in waves over Martin’s bared skin, its breath damp.

  “Please,” Martin begged. Humans and dragons did not want him, but this creature did, and it was beautiful and big, and though Martin should have been scared, he was not. He went onto his b
ack easily enough, shivering for the scrape of the creature’s teeth over his skin and bruising kisses down his throat as the creature settled over him.

  A wise person might worry over being had in the cold woods with nothing to aid the taking. Martin only mourned in his heart that this rough possession did not happen, although his regret was fleeting. He could not be sad with muscled shoulders beneath his palms and the creature impatiently pulling Martin’s boots and trousers away so that Martin was naked beneath him.

  The creature held Martin’s hips in its huge hands and took Martin’s cock into its mouth, and any animals hiding in the dark around the tree probably scattered at the sounds Martin made.

  The creature’s satisfied hum shivered through his blood. Its tongue was wet and pleasant, its hands firm enough to leave impressions for Martin to press later while bringing himself off.

  Martin groaned at the sharpness of the pleasure and curved his fingers around thick antlers. He stroked them, reveling in the hard-soft texture before he buried his hands in loose, thick curls and let the creature have its way.

  MARTIN DRIFTED AGAIN after finishing in the creature’s mouth, after experiencing the damp earth at his back and the slide of the creature’s heavy cock against his skin. He stayed awake long enough to hold the creature still so he could give it long, lazy kisses, and then he fell asleep with his head on its shoulder once again.

  He would have said he dreamed that, too, except for the places that stung from love-bites, and the moss in his hair, and the dried mess on his stomach just above the marks of large fingers at his hips.

  The doe sat across the clearing in a patch of sunlight, gazing at Martin as he shambled to the stream to turn his head this way and that and consider his reflection.

  He looked like a man who had been with a lover, who had spent the night with that lover, which was different enough to make Martin flush hot.

  He looked wanted.

  But there was no one and no thing in the woods around him, save the birds and the deer. Martin’s stomach rumbled, which was only another reminder that he had been foolish to storm out here last night. He hadn’t even brought a cloak for warmth, much less food, and he hadn’t told anyone where he was going.

  He looked around again, but he remained alone. So, he finally washed and redressed through his shivers before heading toward the path that would lead him back to town. He walked slowly, dragging his feet, until he reached the path and the new growth of shy pansies peeking out from between the rocks.

  “Oh,” Martin breathed the word.

  The wide, flustered smile only left his face when he reached the well-tended start of the path into town.

  THE TOWN was still in a state about the dragons. Martin’s mother was furious with him for staying out, saying he would have lost his chance to win a dragon if an envoy from the palace had come to town. She had said last night that no dragon would want him, which Martin had reminded her of, and she had chastised him for talking back and then marched from the house to go join the others in their arguments over who to offer to the royal family.

  Martin tidied up and went to bed, where he did not sleep though the mattress was soft and giving. He was busy the next day, finishing projects that he had left sitting since last winter. He stayed occupied the day after that, cooking and baking with one eye out the window, looking toward the trees, until his mother had asked if he really thought sweet breads would be good enough to catch a dragon’s eye and make them overlook the rest of him.

  Martin breathed deeply and said the breads were for Alyce, and then early the next morning, after leaving his mother’s house in order, he put on his big brown cloak, hefted the basket over his arm, and walked out into the woods.

  It had been two days. In that time, mist had dampened the ground and left tiny pools in the animal tracks that crossed the path.

  Martin had a knot in his stomach that not even streams of sunlight could banish, and it only grew worse as he got farther and farther from town and there were no flowers along the path, and no shapes hiding among the trees.

  He stopped when he reached the point where he had to choose a direction, to Alyce or to Joseph or to keep going until he was in the mountains.

  Or to turn back.

  He trembled at the idea. He had not left his mother’s house with no intention to return, not deliberately, not as more than a suggestion in the back of his mind. But he knew now that he had, because he was suddenly very certain that he could not take one more day with her. He could venture to Alyce’s, or Joseph’s, and only visit these woods, or he could stay here as another oddity, but he could not go back.

  His knees went weak even before the harrowing, metallic scream carried through the forest. Martin sank down in the middle of the path when that sound echoed around him once again, then exhaled in relief when it was followed by stomping footsteps, only to gape when two of the largest elk he had ever seen emerged from the greenery.

  They moved slowly, peering at him with nothing more than mild curiosity. Martin stared at the male for several long moments as he realized that was the source of the rusty screeching sound. He barely had time to blush in embarrassment before the creature itself followed the elk out of the trees, making no noise as it approached the path.

  It hadn’t made noise when it had found Martin at the tree, almost as if the heavy footsteps were its way of announcing itself. It was also completely naked, as Martin had predicted, with some dirt on its feet and ankles that Martin tried to focus on instead of the rest of the tanned body on display. But then he looked up, and, while the remembered feel of that cock made him shiver, it was catching sight of the creature’s face that stole his breath.

  It was much too handsome for Martin, Martin recognized with immediate dismay. It had a strong jaw and deep blue eyes, powerful, curling antlers surrounded by glossy curls only made more beautiful by the leaves in them. There was no way someone so lovely would want Martin.

  The creature stopped in front of him, unconcerned with red marks or white rocks, exactly as Martin had suspected.

  Martin pushed the basket forward and upward without raising his head, because he was a fool. “I brought you this. My best, um, tarts and breads. Which I like to make, though I am not the greatest….” He stopped when the creature bent down to take the basket and to tip Martin’s chin up.

  That curious, hungry gaze made him ache. “I’ll always be the wrong one,” Martin explained quietly. “I’ll end up living out here somewhere like Alyce. In a house, you see, for I am human and I like one. I also like to make sturdy fare and sweet foods, and have a fire, sometimes. On cold nights.” It was presumptuous of him to say these things, but he thought he would still stay out here if the creature did not want him. “My mother will protest, but I have no value to her except as something to wound, and I would rather be at your tree than with her, if you will allow it.”

  Silence answered that, though the creature did not look away. One of the elks bent down to sniff at the basket and Martin focused on it desperately. He reached over to open the basket and offer it something, and the elk sneezed.

  Martin startled and fell backwards. From above him came a strange sound, like laughter, and Martin blinked up in surprise at the sight of the creature smiling. It was amused at Martin, but so were most people. That shouldn’t have hurt. But it did, a little.

  The other elk nosed at Martin’s hair before the creature leaned down to offer Martin a hand. The creature had a nice smile, and a nice laugh, and it pulled Martin to his feet without that smile fading. It had witnessed Martin in more embarrassing situations, especially if it had watched him come and go from these woods for years. Yet it was still here, Martin’s basket on one arm, holding Martin’s hand.

  Martin smiled back, all his hurt feelings melting away as if he was standing in pure sunshine.

  “Martin,” he said, patting his chest. Then he waited.

  “Martin,” echoed the creature, watching Martin intently and with unbelievable pleasure,
as if the curiosity and hunger were all for Martin.

  Its gaze now made Martin blush. “I’m Martin. What do I call you?”

  Tipping his head to the side, the creature made a series of sounds that Martin did not think he could repeat. Then it frowned and tried again, only pronouncing the last few syllables. “Iyan.”

  “Iyan,” Martin repeated in awe, both for the name and the smile he got for saying it. “Iyan, did you… understand any part of what I just said? Should I take it back, or….” He was kissed before he could finish, and swayed toward Iyan when Iyan pulled back. “Mmm.” Martin approved dazedly. “Should I call you he? I wasn’t sure if you wanted that, or if that is too human, or not what you feel is….” Iyan kissed him again, softer, but lingering. It didn’t seem to disapprove of being called he, and if that changed, Martin had no complaints. “Will you take me to your tree?” Martin asked at last, breathless after so much kissing.

  Iyan stepped back toward the trees, watching him, smiling when Martin took the hand he offered. He could have led Martin anywhere, but Martin thought they were headed to their oak. He did not object. He could think of many things to do beneath that magnificent tree on a day like today.

  The sun burst through the canopy in several more places when Martin stumbled after Iyan, making the forest so beautiful that Martin again doubted his place here. But Iyan stopped to show him a patch of wild geraniums along a stream, and kissed him when Martin took a handful and, blushing, stuck them in Iyan’s hair. This kiss was sweet and slow, and by the end of it, Martin’s legs were weak. He wound up in Iyan’s arms, which made Iyan flush and which gave Martin his turn to tease.

  Perhaps this was not for everyone. But it was for Martin, and the elk, and Alyce and Joseph, in their way, and Iyan, and even the hungry doe. The creatures who lived in these woods chose to be here, as they chose to be happy, Martin decided. He did not think he could ever call it wrong again.