Birthing Ella Bandita

by Montgomery Mahaffey

  “If you decide to keep living the life you’ve always known…or not…”

  The girl remembered how her reflection had distorted the moving water when she looked at herself from the river’s edge. For a moment, she felt it again, the resolution to jump and surrender to nothing. Again she had the relief that it could all be over soon. Then the grip inside her breast made her double over when she thought about dying. Nothing had changed in her world and she knew nothing ever would. But the numbness was gone, along with the anguish that drove her to the river. Something had changed. She wanted to live.

  The girl gazed into her mother’s eyes. Even so many years after her death, there was still so much life in that gaze, the passion she had for it and the desire to pass that gift on to her unborn child. The girl gripped the crystal, her fingers slick from rivulets of blood. Then she thought about the Sorcerer and his offer, searching for a hint of judgment from the woman in the portrait. But there was none.

  Instead her mother was radiant, her likeness seeming to stretch beyond the paint to come back to life. The girl closed her eyes and shook her head. When she opened them again, the woman in the portrait glowed even more, the glaze of dreams gone from her expression. Then the girl heard a soft soprano teasing at the edge of her hearing, a mother beseeching her daughter to come closer, closer. Then there was that squeeze inside her breast again. The girl wondered if she was losing her mind.

  “Mama?” she whispered, shaking her head in an attempt to come back to her senses.

  “Come to me, my child.”

  The voice was louder, ringing with the clarity of a silver bell, and the painted gaze grew intense. A wave of heat wrapped around the girl, a blanket she couldn’t touch. Then she caught the scent of lilies, the beloved flowers of her mother, and sobbed. She knew she could be going mad, but she didn’t care. In that moment, the girl no longer felt alone as she came down the stairs to stand before the portrait. She now stood two fingers taller than her mother, but became like a child when she reached out to her.

  “Please,” she whispered, staring into the pale blue eyes. “Mama, please show me a way to protect my heart.”

  The girl touched the hands in the painting and encountered flesh. The skin was so soft and the girl stroked the backs of her mother’s hands embracing the daughter as yet unborn inside her. The girl sobbed. So this is what it was like to touch her mother. Beyond the veil of death, the soprano sang a lullaby that eased the torment of her mind, coaxing the girl to lie down and sleep. Fatigue settled over her and she did as she was bid, stretching out across the landing and resting her head at the painted feet. The sweet cling of lilies guided the girl to where her mother waited.

  “My darling,” the soft voice whispered. “I will be with you always.”

  That promise was all she needed to let go. The loving words were the last she heard before the girl drifted to the land of dreams.

  ***

  The Sorcerer held the vial up to the candle, satisfied with how much essence had been drawn from the crude peasant blouse. He’d kept it for years before boiling it down. Glimpsing at the cauldron, he was satisfied that not even a shred of the garment remained. He extracted every last drop. He swirled the liquid, admiring its hue. Even after several years, the essence of that young man still retained the dark red of virility.

  He knew she would come. Yet the sound of her first step gratified, her gait the softest whisper as she spiraled down the tunnel. The Sorcerer didn’t move, relishing a mounting excitement he hadn’t known in a long time, waiting for the daughter of the village Patron to appear in his Caverns.

  She was almost lovely, almost a bride presenting herself on her wedding night. The gown she wore was simple. Pure white muslin with a plunging heart-shaped neckline. The bodice hugged her torso and hips, her skirts swelled to her ankles, her sleeves flared from elbow to wrist. Her golden hair was braided into a long rope that fell to her waist. Her only jewelry was the crystal stargaze hung from a silver chain to rest above the modest swell of her breasts. She stood before him with her shoulders back and head high. Her demeanor was proud, giving the Sorcerer pause before he greeted her.

  “I see you didn’t take long to decide.”

  “I will accept your offer,” she said. “But you must agree to one request.”

  “Go on.”

  “Before I lay with you, I want you to take my heart.”

  The Sorcerer didn’t answer right away, stroking his beard. He peered at her hands, the traitor of nerves. He looked for clenched fists or twitching fingers, and saw her palms lying at her sides, naturally draped in the folds of her skirts.

  “That’s not the way I do things,” he said. “I always take the heart after-”

  “Then I will lay with you until I learn every secret you could possibly teach me,” she said, waiting two beats before concluding. “And I am sure I will pleasure you greatly.”

  This he hadn’t expected. The promise made the blood rush in his veins with a quickening he hadn’t had in too long to remember. But there was no mistaking her defiance. The Sorcerer looked into her eyes, noticing for the first time how blue and clear they were. Their depths were icy when she gazed at him, waiting for his answer with a touch of disdain. She no longer had the despair that sent her to the river, ready to toss her life away.

  The Sorcerer hesitated, uneasy with the sudden change in her. Then an image of the girl riding a stallion burst into his mind. Legs gripping flanks, her figure formed with the soft curves of a woman and the hard muscles of a peasant. She had a sinewy grace that was unique in a woman, especially when she rode, her body moving in harmony with the beast. Years would pass before she learned everything he knew. She would belong to him.

  “I think we’ve come to an understanding,” he said, holding out his hand.

  ****

  She stared into the long white palm of the Sorcerer, his bony fingers reaching for her. The clutch inside her chest was excruciating. The impulse came over her to run up the spiral before the Sorcerer could lock her in the Caverns, and she nearly gave in to the call of fear. Then the scent of lilies wafted in her nostrils, the melodious voice of her mother singing in her mind.

  “I will be with you always.”

  And the girl knew her heart was safe as she placed her hand in his. The Sorcerer reached inside the neck of his robes and pulled out his own stargaze. But the only colors were blue and white once the candles’ flame touched the crystal facets. The essence swirled around her, making the girl shiver. She tried to pull her hand back, but the Sorcerer kept his hold on her.

  “Push your breath out,” he said.

  She had no choice. The air was drawn out of her when the Sorcerer inhaled long and deep, and he didn’t stop until she was drained. Otherwise the girl felt nothing when she gave up her heart, just the emptiness inside her once it was gone and a gnawing similar to the one that consumed her when she’d feasted with him two days before. She blinked and her hand dropped to her side. When she looked again, her heart rested in the hand of the Sorcerer, motionless and silent. For once, she found the lifelessness of her heart reassuring when he tied it up in a black velvet bag and placed it on the highest shelf carved in the Cavern walls.

  Then the Sorcerer turned to her with a smile and nodded to a corridor leading away from the main hall to what must be his bedroom chambers, the black walls glowing from fire torches lighting the way. He beckoned her to follow with a wave of his fingers. But the girl stared at his back sauntering to the hallway and didn’t move. The Sorcerer noticed and turned around.

  “You already made your choice, Girl. It’s too late to change your mind now.”

  “Didn’t you promise to teach me the arts of seduction?”

  “Yes, and I will. So?”

  “So, you know I find you repugnant. Don’t you?”

  The Sorcerer raised his brows and shrugged.

  “Make me desire you,” the girl taunted. “Isn’t that what seduction is?”

  She didn’t e
xpect to evade the Sorcerer and the decision she had made, but her stomach lurched when he smiled, his long yellowed teeth gleaming.

  “As you wish.”

  He pulled a large vial from his robes. When the Sorcerer held the vial to a torch and lit up the jewel tones, she thought the liquid must be melted rubies. He snapped his fingers, calling forth the shadowy servants from the black stone. They carried a large iron cauldron with smoke billowing from its center, which they set down before their master. The Sorcerer circled the pot, muttering in a language the girl had never heard. Then he spilled one drop from the vial and the brew inside the cauldron roiled, engulfing the Sorcerer in fog.

  As thick as the cloud was, the girl could see the silhouette inside, and she watched the form of the Sorcerer change shape. The mist dissipated in puffs, revealing a man who bore no resemblance to the ancient Sorcerer. He was young and strong with powerful shoulders and muscular limbs, wearing the ragged clothes of a vagabond. The only thing missing was his rucksack.

  “No,” she whispered. “This isn’t possible.”

  She blinked, trying to dispel what had to be a mirage. But the guise the Sorcerer had taken on remained and the girl thought she might faint. The wheat colored hair was damp as it always was after a long ride, the smile of even white teeth as brilliant as she remembered.

  “Well look at you, little Miss,” he said. “You’re all grown up.”

  Even his voice was unchanged. The rumbling timbre, the playful drawling accent touched by dialects of places he’d been around the world, the Horse Trainer who had come as a Vagabond.

  The girl shook her head, unable to speak. She tried to back away from the handsome young man, but he walked a wide berth around her. She turned, frantic to keep her back to this phantom of flesh and blood. The sight of him filled her with both alarm and sadness, how could that be possible? Her throat closed up and the girl wanted to cry. But that urge was distant, calling to her from a place outside herself while the empty space inside her breast throbbed. She hugged her arms close, while the Phantom of the Horse Trainer moved in a pace at a time. Once he came near, there was no relief when she looked into his eyes and saw they were the same. The colorless gaze of the Sorcerer had warmed into the golden brown eyes that sparkled just as she remembered.

  “Get away from me!” she cried, hurling her fists against his chest. “You’re not him, I know you’re not him!”

  The Phantom grabbed her wrists with one hand and pulled her close.

  “First rule of seduction,” he whispered in her ear. “Find the secret yearning of the one you desire and give her what she wants.”

  “Stop it!” The girl screamed, struggling against him. “Let go of me!”

  Finally, the tears came. The Phantom kept his hold on her, but he was gentle as he stroked the base of her spine. Once the fight went out of the girl, he wrapped his other arm around her, one hand caressing the length of her back, then her neck and shoulders.

  The girl couldn’t stop crying, giving in to the tenderness almost against her will. The Phantom stroked her back the same way the Horse Trainer had, the affection unleashing something inside her as it had long ago. Her head dropped into the crook of his neck and shoulder and she caught the smell of the stables, the sweat of horses and hard work. The throbbing of her emptiness ceased the more she breathed in that scent. The girl melted, wrapping her arms around the Phantom.

  He picked her up, his words soothing, and carried her down an unlit corridor leading off the main hall to a chamber glowing from a thousand tiny candles. The girl floated in his embrace until she saw the bed in the center of the room, the canopy and base carved from the dark wood of the Ancient Grove. A thick blanket the color of midnight was pulled back, exposing sheets and pillows the same pure white as her muslin gown.

  The Phantom’s breath rumbled inside her before he laid the girl in the middle of the bed. He reached for her, the brush of his fingers shocking. She pushed his hands from her thighs, but his touch was insistent. The Phantom loomed above her, destroying the illusion. This was not her friend, the Horse Trainer. The Phantom’s eyes had gone dark and his mouth grimaced with a hunger that made her blood run cold. A quiver of fear shuddered through her and the girl turned away, shoving a fist in her mouth to stay quiet.

  She sank deeper into the bed when the Phantom lay down beside her. His body was warm, but he did nothing more than caress her shoulder and arm. The tips of his fingers brushed her temples as he stroked her hair, the tenderness tearing the sobs from her mouth.

  “What’s wrong, little Miss?”

  The weight of his palm was soothing, the heat from his fingers slowly melting the cold terror clench holding her in its grip. She turned back to face him, reassured to see the glowering lust gone from his eyes. But she knew too well this was only a Phantom of her friend from long ago, and the empty space inside her throbbed when she looked into those golden brown eyes.

  “Why are you crying?”

  “Because this isn’t real.”

  “Seduction never is,” he murmured. “However, you must give yourself to the fantasy or you won’t enjoy it.”

  His hand brushed the line of her jaw before the Phantom cupped her face in his hands, stroking her lips with his thumb. Then he kissed each of her eyelids, following the stream of tears down her cheeks and wiping them clean.

  “And I want you to enjoy it.”

  He kissed her gently, light brushing his lips across hers until she melted, then she opened her mouth to his. The girl was consumed with the shiver irresistible. Something awakened in her that she never knew she had. But she closed her eyes and breathed in, allowing the odor of stables and sweat to carry her back to the memories of a man she adored long ago. His hands were rough, but his touch remained soft, almost nurturing as he undressed her. She could feel the Phantom holding back, and knew he waited for her to offer herself to him. The girl nestled into his side, wanting to rest there and grow accustomed to him, his strength and mass so different from her. But the Phantom reached for her, his patience exhausted. She didn’t resist, but her thighs shook when he spread her legs, the moist between them unfamiliar.

  “I know I should take more time with you,” he said, his voice thick. “But I just can’t wait any longer. The next time will be better for you, I promise.”

  The pain was frightening when he took her, but the girl wouldn’t cry out. One tear rolled down her temple into her hair, but she kept her eyes tight shut. She calmed herself with his scent, breathing in as much of the sharp pungent salt as she could. His smell made the illusion seem real.

  ****

  Her initiation into love was vivid in her dreams. The girl relived the bite of his lips, the caress of rough palms, the heat rising within her. The Phantom had been good for his word. The next time they coupled, he had taken his time, introducing her slowly to sensations in her body she never dreamed possible. The girl whimpered from the memory. But she was still caught unawares and bit her lip before the moan of flush tingle bliss split her open again. Sprawling her arms, she turned on her back and awoke when her hand fell on his bony trunk.

  The girl opened her eyes to the Sorcerer watching her. He was already dressed, his robes falling over the edge of the bed while her garments made a heap on the floor. The girl pulled away, avoiding the Sorcerer’s eye as she reached for her rumpled gown. She was aghast when she saw red stains on the back of her skirts. Glancing to the bed, she saw drops of blood on the sheets. Loathing filled her when she looked up and saw the Sorcerer holding her petticoats with a discreet smile.

  “You have an hour before the rooster crows,” he said.

  The girl laced up her boots and ran through the corridor as the loathing seeped into her bones and made it unbearable to be inside her flesh. She was relieved to see the Gateway was already open when she came to the main hall. The sky above was the deep lavender gray of a morning that was soon coming. She couldn’t get out fast enough, sprinting up the spiral and burying any lingering thoughts abo
ut the night before. She was almost to the top when that deep voice echoed up the tunnel and arrested her.

  “Tonight?”

  The girl looked down at the Sorcerer. She forced herself to go numb when she looked into his colorless eyes and nodded.

  “After everybody has gone to sleep, I’ll come to you then.”

  But the loathing made her flesh crawl when she came out of the Caverns. Outside, the girl pushed that sentiment away when she saw the thick trees stretching in all directions. She’d given no thought to her return when she left the house, and now had no idea the best route out of the woods. She smiled at the thought that it would likely make no difference if she were caught coming back. Then she realized she’d be a fool to humiliate her father. The girl ran through the woods, praying to her mother to get her back before the first servants woke up, coming out to the north where the river severed the Ancient Grove from the expanse of the Abandoned Valley.

  The giant gray stallion was at the river again. In the dim light before sunrise, the glossy coat of shadows made him invisible until he moved, raising his long neck from the water. The girl stopped when she saw him, the magnificent animal made her forget her distress for a moment. He had been a colt when he ran away, yet already possessed the size and strength of a full-grown stallion, as well as an untamable spirit. The day he was branded, the colt felled the stable hands who had seared the Patron’s crest into his flank and escaped to the Abandoned Valley where he ran wild ever since. She remembered how badly she’d wanted to ride him, and how insistent the Trainer had been when he refused.

  “He’s almost more horse than I can handle,” he’d said. “So forget it, little Miss. This is one who will choose his master, if he ever does at all.”

  She stood motionless, hardly daring to breathe, knowing the wild equine would flee if she made a move. The stallion regarded her for a moment. But instead of running for distant fields as she expected, he crossed the river, snuffling where the current was strongest. When he came out the other side, the girl’s head reached the lower half of his trunk. Then the giant steed folded his front limbs and kneeled before her, low enough for the girl to climb on his back. Her legs didn’t stretch down half his flanks. But the girl knew she would ride him perfectly well, clutching strands of his silvery mane and clicking her tongue.