by Gabi Moore
“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. There 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.
But Nemlach closed his eyes. The air was still too thin here, and this was too much. She’d been right there, within his reach. What on earth had happened?
“What happened?!” Taren echoed his thoughts frantically. “Where is—she?!”
“I don’t know,” Nemlach answered weakly. “All I saw… was the light… she’s gone.”
“Gone?!” Taren was growing hysterical; his pale face was turning blue at the nose. Nemlach knew they’d have to get back down the mountain, and soon. “Gone? She couldn’t have just disappeared!”
“She did.”
“Laova!” Taren carried on. The situation was terrible, but to Nemlach that horrible fruitless shouting into the night was the worst of it. He couldn’t stand to hear it. He reached out and grabbed Taren’s arm.
“Stop it!” He shook the kid, until Taren wrestled away. “Stop it! She’s not here!”
“She has to be here… somewhere!”
“What are you not understanding? She’s gone!” Nemlach paused; they really had to get down from this mountain. They would both die up here slowly, otherwise.
Taren stood there, panting. “Nemlach,” he moaned. “She can’t! She has to, we have to… find her!”
“Look at yourself!” Nemlach insisted. “We can’t even breathe here!”
“You want to leave?” Taren asked in disbelief.
No, he didn’t. The truth was, Nemlach didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to move from this spot again. He’d worked and labored to reach her, to save her. And at the last second, right out from his grasp… Nemlach didn’t want to leave. He wanted to lie down and die, freeze to die or suffocate, whichever came first.
“Yes,” Nemlach lied. “We have to… she wouldn’t want us to… die here.”
Taren opened his mouth, as if to argue.
A cringing zap of light and pressure enveloped them again.
It blinded him, just as it had the first time. Nemlach blinked, heart pounding, waiting for his vision to clear and for the night to reappear. Appear it did, slowly—Taren was blinking too, trying to get his sight back.
But there was a third silhouette, as Nemlach fought to see straight. The mountain summit was just as it had been, except for the addition of a familiar figure, standing just where he’d last seen her.
“Laova!” Nemlach saw her before Taren did, and ran instantly to her side, as he should have done the first time around. She seemed a little stunned, blinking in confusion. It was her face, certainly, just as she’d left…
But her black hair had turned white.
Nemlach stared at it; afraid his eyes might have been damaged by the light flashes. Taren had caught up now, and was standing beside them, staring openly at Laova’s hair.
“Laova! What happened?” he asked, still unable to stop staring.
She didn’t respond at first. Clearly disoriented, she clung to Nemlach’s arms.
“It worked,” she whispered. There was a ghostly look to her, both wistful and baffled. “I… I’m back.”
Nemlach hadn’t thought there was anything left that could possibly confuse him more. But then, without warning, Laova’s face crumpled, and she sobbed. Great tears froze on her face and he brushed them away carefully.
“Oh, Nemlach!” she cried, and let herself be gathered up into his arms. He hugged her close.
Nemlach froze.
Slowly, he pulled back. He hadn’t paid much attention to her clothes before; her hair was startling enough, if he needed more surprises after her abrupt disappearance and reappearance. But now that he looked, they were not the same as the ones she had left in. Similar, yes. They were made of hides and furs, and cut in a fashion that almost seemed… intentionally similar to what she’d had. This was not what had drawn his attention.
Laova watched him with great, dark, unreadable eyes as he felt carefully down her abdomen, to her distended, very pregnant, stomach.
Just yesterday he’d lain beside her, touching her intimately, becoming familiar with all the lines and planes of her body.
This was impossible.
Taren stared, dumbstruck.
Laova stared into Nemlach’s eyes, waiting. Things had changed in her; it was obvious, now that the jolt of her sudden return was passed. Her face… she was older. Not, perhaps, in years, but in knowledge.
“Laova…” he whispered. Nemlach hadn’t meant to whisper. “Where have you been?”
Her lips parted, and Nemlach watched as doors closed in her heart at the very question. Sadness quieted her voice as she answered. “Many places. Oh, gods, Nemlach, many places.”
He laid a hand on her stomach. “How… long?”
“I don’t know,” she replied.
He glanced down at the swell of her belly; a prickle of hurt twisted inside him. “Who?”
Laova squeezed his arm. “A god. He goes by many names. But this is the child of a god.”
***
It was easier to descend from the mountain; without the storm, the only obstacle was occasionally slippery footing. It had been cloudy for days; they hadn’t been able to see the sky lighten over the past week, preparing to receive a r
eborn sun.
But as the three of them stood on the high slopes of Star-Reach, Nemlach holding Laova’s hand, watching her every step, the brightening sky unexpectedly broke open. A sliver of sunlight struck them, and after so long in the dark it was blinding. Except to Laova; it was as if she had been in a lighter place, where sunlight had never fled.
She looked out over the world that lay below, beneath scuttling clouds and towering mountains. It was a wronged and ravaged world, one that her people did not understand. She set a hand on her burgeoning stomach and thought that despite everything that had happened, perhaps all was not dark.
Not yet.
- THE END -
Chosen
A Sci-Fi
Medea drove her rental car to the top of the longest drive she’d ever seen in her entire twenty-five years in order to reach the dwelling at the top.
She couldn’t imagine the cost involved in the upkeep on the place; surely, it was beyond her pathetic pay grade with the agency. Right now, all she cared about was making sure this assignment went off according to plan. She needed to complete it and get credit if she would make the next pay grade. With all the cutbacks in the agency, there was a severe lack of upward mobility in the government body for which she worked.
The car sputtered and Medea worried the engine wouldn’t survive the trip to the top of the hill. Dammit, couldn’t they spring for some decent transportation?
She was certain her boss never had a problem with requisitioning the best car money could afford from the motor pool. Not that Mrs. Carpenter ever went out on an assignment these days. That queen bitch sat behind her desk and did her reports while the new hires, those lucky enough to pass the test and make the right connections, where sent out on a trial by fire to investigate foreign spies, local drug cartels and suspected dealers in sex slaves.
Medea, being part of the latter, needed the credits this mission would give her and she couldn’t afford to be choosey. The last two women who were tapped to do the mission quit rather than be sent into the Torzinite den of spies, saboteurs and flesh merchants. Well, the hell with them and their pedigrees. She was made of tougher skin and could handle this job. It would advance her to the next rank in her career, or so Mrs. Carpenter hinted when she called Medea into the office one week ago, humming a familiar, but annoying tune.
