by Ayre, Janice
Taking her hands in his, he gazed down at her. She looked up at him with the strength and assurance with which he was accustomed, but yet there was something different in her also. In her countenance was a gentleness he had not perceived before as if suffering had given her greater patience and a deeper love. He released her hands and dropped his arms to his side, clenching his hands to stop the trembling in his fingers.
“I'm sorry. Will you forgive me?” His voice was husky with emotion.
With tenderness she responded.“I think we both forgave each other long before we forgave ourselves.”
Nothing could further stay the need they both shared. Placing his hand under her chin he lifted her face to his. Their lips met first in a gentle, tentative kiss which quickly developed into one of hungry passion too long denied. As they clung together in an embrace of deep yearning Zebulon felt a small tremble run through her body and he responded by tightening his arms around her and drawing her even closer. Gently he lowered her onto the soft grass and continued caressing her tenderly. He sort her lips again and resumed kissing her. From there his lips strayed over the creaminess of her neck, to her shoulders, and to the tops of her breasts where the soft rise of her bosom tantalizingly met her dress. He loved the smoothness of her skin. Every movement she made, every caress sent spasms of delight through his body. His hand stroked the gentle curves of her body, feeling the tingling of her response as if every nerve answered his touch. The soft fabric that lay between them seemed to be hardly there. The intensity of his desire was magnified by the feeling of newness of their intimacy mixed with an older, former knowledge of each other. He felt vulnerable but his very vulnerability opened to him the love of Saniyah. The richness of her love completed him.
“My darling, my darling,” he mumbled before her kisses silenced him. The surroundings ceased to exist for them, they alone were reality.
Much later when they had renewed their love and the hunger within them had been satisfied, they lay in contented silence, still melted into each others arms. When finally they roused themselves, words came tumbling out and they spoke the things closest to their hearts, voicing thoughts and feelings that had too long been hidden away inside. Then they would be silent, only to once more engage in the deepest conversation. This pattern was repeated many times. They had no concept of the passing of time and no desire to let anyone or anything intrude on this precious time together.
Brock awoke later in the morning and found himself alone. He wondered for a moment where Zebulon had gone for he didn't realise he had fallen back asleep for so long. Then he observed that the room was brightly lit from the sun blazing in the open window and knew then that considerable time had passed. He felt more energy now, and the mental haze had lifted making his thoughts clearer. He was considering getting out of bed when Karmen entered the room. Her face lifted in a smile.
“You have more colour in your face this morning,” she observed. “I think you are probably wanting to get up for a while.”
“Oh yes, I'm feeling strong and ready to go,” he said enthusiastically.
“Then you may like to join us for a meal.”
“I'm so hungry. No one gave me breakfast!”
Karmen gave a laugh. “That's because you were fast asleep when it was brought to you!”
Getting out of bed wasn't as easy as expected. Brock found that he was far weaker than he realised, finding he needed frequent rests between even the slightest exertion. Karmen helped him to a big comfortable chair on the verandah where he could look out on the grounds of the castle. The gardens were not as formal as Brock had expected but he delighted in the profusion of flowers that seemed to be competing in a friendly way for notice and appreciation. Brock preferred natural scenery, where nature showed its own creative genius to delight the senses. He smiled, for some reason the flowers reminded him of the little ones back in his village when they were presenting a play and each desired to be the star. He sighed as an overwhelming wave of homesickness swept over him. Fortunately Kareem and Karmen joined him, settling comfortably into chairs beside him. They were followed by servants bringing hot tea and delectable refreshments which they placed before him on a round table.
“Eat up,” said Kareem. “We need to put some meat on those bones.”
Brock laughed and noticed for the first time how thin he looked.
Noticing his worried look, Karmen said. “Don't worry Brock. It will not take you long to build up your health and gain some weight again.”
The three sat for a long while, chatting of lighter and fun things. Sometimes Kareem would begin to softly sing a song. Some were of romance and others comical. Brock's mood became happier and as he looked out over the gardens his mind travelled the many winding paths that curved in and out amongst the flower beds, shrubs, and trees. He was already planning to venture along them as soon as he was able.
“We'll have to go walking in the gardens in the next few days. Would you like that?” asked Kareem.
“Very much!”
“Good. I always find walking helps me think, relaxes me, and makes me feel all is well in the world,” replied Kareem.
Brock sat in contented companionship with Kareem and Karmen. While they read he sat gazing over the beautiful countryside or indulged in daydreaming. Food and drink was brought to them, and although he professed to being hungry, Brock was satisfied after only a few mouthfuls.
He was wondering where some of the paths might lead when Zebulon and Saniyah came walking into view. They were holding hands and appeared to be engaged in earnest conversation. Kareem and Karman exchanged looks of satisfaction. As the couple mounted the steps to the verandah, the others noted that their eyes twinkled and their faces glowed.
Brock looked from one to the other and asked, “What is going on, you both look . . . different?”
“Nothing much, just been enjoying some time without being interrupted by you.” Zebulon gave him a playful tap on his head.
“Oh I understand,” he said cheerfully, but he didn't. He gained understanding as the days passed and he would see them either cuddling or talking together, having little interest in anyone else. He was happy for them but he felt a little left out, for Zebulon had no interest in teaching him, only telling him that he needed more time to get better. Saniyah, who had been so tender and attentive towards him now seemed preoccupied.
Brock regained his health quickly, though some weakness left him open to periods of despondency. Karmen was pleased with his progress and prepared to return to her home. She knew he would be in supportive company for Kareem would see that he was not left too long alone to indulge in dark thoughts.
The friends gathered on the morning of Karmen's departure. The mood was rather subdued. Brock had been telling himself that he was glad she was leaving because then she wouldn't be there to always remind him to take his herbs and to pace himself, but now that she was actually going, he felt an uncomfortable pressure behind his eyes and a lump in his throat. He hung back as Karmen went to each in turn and hugged them.
“Cheer up, all of you. I won't be that far away!” she said.
She went to Brock and took hold of his hands. “You are going to be fine now. You are always welcome to visit me, in fact I will expect you.” She smiled sweetly at him. “Come on,” she said, “At least give me a hug!”
Karmen wrapped her arms around him and speaking softly into his ear, she said. “You are a special young man. Great things will happen in your life.” She kissed him on the cheek and released him from the embrace.
“Thank you Karmen, for all you have done for me. You are a beautiful lady.” Brock no longer cared that his voice was husky and that tears were bearding on his eyelashes.
Karmen turned quickly away and Brock was sure that her tears were not too far away.
The four who remained, stood together silently for some time after Karmen had left.
Over the following days, Kareem was quick to detect any bouts of depression and spend considerabl
e time talking to and encouraging the young elf. Brock spent much of his time walking with Kareem in the spacious gardens. He found the old wizard a wonderful companion, so patient and so knowledgeable.
On one such time together as they walked along one of the many paths that wound like ribbons amongst the lush green grass and the many flowering plants, Brock confided in Kareem.
“Karmen rouses on me for not studying books more, but I can listen to all the things you have to teach me and I don't need books.”
“It is good that you can learn much from me, but there are many more things to find in excellent books, that I cannot teach you. You should not rely on information from only one source for it can be incomplete or flawed. We all have our limitations, and wrong information. What we believe is coloured by our life experiences and by our character. What I believe to be the truth may not be so.”
“Then how am I to find the truth? Different writers say different things and I become confused as to who to believe.”
“That is correct, young one, the choice as to what is truth can be difficult at times. But when you study widely, with a commitment to learn, you will see patterns emerge which will point you on a more correct path. You can compare the different sources of knowledge you have obtained and then ponder on them. Many like to think that logic will show them the way, but when logic is built on a faulty assumption or incorrect beliefs in the beginning, then the results will be incorrect no matter how correct they seem. The logic will be flawed and one must return to the beginning to find where the fault lies.”
“I did not think of it that way.”
“You must be capable of rational analysis. Desire what is right and it will be given to you. Set aside your self serving desires. You must be willing to change from a belief if you find it to be wrong. There is no reason to hold on to that which is incorrect simply because you feel comfortable with it. It will not alter the fact that it is wrong, no matter how precious it is to you and how desperately you cling to it. No amount of wishing or hoping will change truth. Of course there will be some who desire you to think and feel as they do. Resist this. Do not let your mind be caged by others.”
Brock gave a good-natured chuckle. “What do you mean, 'caged'? How could anyone cage your mind?”
“Flattery, artful distraction, misinformation can lead you into believing what others want you to believe. One skilled in deception can lead others quietly and gently by indoctrination in directions they believe are their own beliefs, only to find, too late, that it is the other's belief and has very different end results than expected.”
Brock smiled and inwardly thought that he would be highly unlikely to be tricked. However, respecting Kareem's wisdom and not wanting to interrupt the kindly wizard, Brock said nothing. Kareem continued. “Maybe it is our concept of perfection that is in error. We think of perfection as something that it is achieved and held infinitely rather than considering it as a condition that is in a continual state of becoming, a finding of balance. It takes diligence and courage to seek the truth. The rewards are great though, because you become an individual of integrity which is a person of sound judgement, with completeness of character.”
Having been gravely ill and suffered greatly, Brock had developed more patience and had more maturity so that all Kareem told him, he absorbed. He looked forward eagerly to their time spent together, even if it was simply to admire a view or a little flower, all was enjoyable and food for his spirit. Kareem's method of instruction was so natural that Brock did not feel he was being taught until later when he relived the conversation in his mind. Many weeks were spent in this manner and as Brock’s love and respect for Kareem grew, so did his knowledge and understanding. Kareem did not directly teach much in the way of magic use, respecting that Zebulon was the teacher, but he did offer insight into the use of magic as well as the philosophies and ethical code of its uses.
In time Brock became accustomed to the idea that Zebulon and Saniyah spent most of their time with each other but as the weeks went by, they spent more time occupying themselves in other activities also. Zebulon began instructing Brock further in magic but teaching only the theory because he knew Brock was not yet strong enough for the arduous task of magic use. Brock's mood was lighter now that more normality was entering his life, but he eagerly waited to return to the practical activities of magic.
Saniyah took to painting with a new energy. Brock loved to watch her paint, as did Zebulon, and those hours were spent in tranquillity. Evenings were often spent listening to the music of Zebulon and Kareem. While he played, Zebulon would gaze at Saniyah as if the sight of her was all he needed for happiness, and she in her turn looked lovingly at him. As the music swept the listeners into a heightened emotional state, Brock felt a longing within his heart to experience the love they shared. He became focused on Saniyah, noting the beauty of her face, her sparkling eyes, her lovely mouth, with her lips slightly parted in a wistful smile. Her skin was smooth and creamy and as Brock studied her he noted how her breast rose and fell gently as she responded to the melody of her lover. Suddenly Brock became aware that someone was watching him. He turned to find Zebulon staring at him with dark, bright eyes. No words were uttered but Brock felt his colour rise, beginning at his cheeks and rising upto his hairline. He passed his hand restlessly over his face and up into his hair as if he could wipe away the shame. All he accomplished was to make his hair stand up on the top of the head as if he'd had a fright. He dared not look at Saniyah but quickly grabbed the book he had lain carelessly by and began leafing through its pages. No words did he see but he used it as a distraction for the rest of the song. At the song’s end he bade everyone a hurried goodnight and left.
The next morning, after breakfast Zebulon came to Brock. “I need to speak with you.” His voice was low and serious.
Brock's heart sank and his mouth felt dry. He knew he was in for a lecture after the previous night's indiscretion. He might even be told to leave. He followed Zebulon dejectedly into the spacious study which they used for magic instruction.
As soon as they were seated Zebulon said. “I will be leaving here soon. I, along with Kareem will be going to Thaumaturge Retreat to report to the Wizard's Council.”
“The Wizard's Council? I did not know there was such a thing.”
“Not too many people do, for its locality is hidden from most. It concerns only wizards, the principles they live by, and any wrongdoings within the magic world. A Code of Conduct was established by Theron because too many were using their magic in ways that hurt others, to bully them, and to take away their freedoms. He, along with other notable wizards wrote the principles for the Code. Most live within reasonable respect for proper conduct but some like Mustafa disregard it in their pursuit of power.”
“Will you get into trouble because of Mustafa?”
“No, because what I did was right. But they like to have a report of such things and we discuss what actions needs to be followed, if any. Other wizards need to know of those like Mustafa who abuse their powers. Kareem will give an account of what happened so it doesn't solely rely on my story.”
“Should I go too?”
“You are not a wizard so you would not attend such a council unless I was incapable of giving a satisfactory account of my part. When you qualify as a wizard you will become a member and be able to go to these councils. Many such meetings are instructional.”
“Me! Will I be a wizard some day?”
Zebulon gave a cheerful laugh. “Of course, unless my time has been wasted with you. Many of the instructions Kareem has been giving you are in preparation for that day. It would be unwise for you to gain great magic power without an understanding of the responsibility that it carries with it. So I hope you have been listening well.”
“Oh I have!” Brock responded quickly.
“If you wish to stay here you can, but if you feel ready to return to your home then that is well. It is your choice. If you stay here you can spend your time reading a
nd studying.”
“I would very much like to go home soon.”
“Then do so. You have earned a rest.” Besides, it would be better,” he added with a sideways look at Brock. Brock understood his meaning and blushed slightly.
“Do I return here when you come back so I can continue my magic. I feel ready to work hard.”
Zebulon smiled at his enthusiastic apprentice. “I will let you know in time. I have other matters to attend to first, such as getting married!”
On their last walk together Kareem asked Brock. “So you are returning to your family. Do you find joy in that prospect?”
“I look forward to it very much.”
“That is good. Don't be surprised if you find things quite different from what you expect. You may feel unsettled and somewhat a stranger.”
“I don't think I'll have trouble with that. I know everyone will be older but I can visualise everyone and all the places so vividly, I know it is going to be easy to be back home,” Brock said with youthful confidence.
Kareem only smiled and patted him on the back.
Chapter Twenty Three
Home Coming
Brock walked back along the riverbank. It was strange, the surroundings were all so familiar but they seemed to belong to another lifetime. In his mind's eye he saw a young elf trailing miserably behind the tall, fearsome wizard and the stately lady. He remembered his thoughts about diving into the river to escape his captor. Now he could chuckle to himself at his ridiculous thoughts and actions.
He inhaled deeply of the fragrances of the flowering shrubs. His eyes feasted on the many colours and shades of leaves and flowers. This was a beautiful place and being there once more made him realise how much he had missed his town and the special people there.
As he neared home, he saw in the distance, a graceful figure. A young woman, oblivious to being observed, was stooping and picking strawberries to place in the basket over her arm. There was something about the movement of the girl that seemed familiar, but then of course, it had to be someone from his village. He hastened his stride that he might know who it was; the first person to meet on his return. As he approached, the maiden stood up and stared with wide eyes.
