Ten years they had been together in the cottage, and what wondrous creatures she had seen and healed. All thanks to the Goddess. She bowed her head and whispered her morning greeting.
Dahlabar still snored behind the curtain that hid his sleeping chamber. She had aged, but time’s hand did not seem to touch her poppa-Dah. Was that too by the Goddess’ will?
She heard a soft snort and then a commanding whinny. What was that? A horse? They did not come often to her. Wiping her hands on her apron, she moved to the cottage door.
It was a stallion, blinding white in the morning sun. Riderless and saddleless, the horse tossed his head as she stared into his eyes. She reached to stroke its ears. “What do you wish from me?”
“You are needed.” The thought floated into her mind, and the horse turned from her.
Without question, Thea entered the cottage, gathered her herbs and salves and followed the stallion.
He led her into the forest, deeper than she had ventured before. The stallion entered a small clearing and in its center a still figure laid. A quick glance at the man’s leg, twisted beneath him, told her it was broken. His face was pale, but his breathing and heartbeat were strong. The best she could hope to do was splint it, give him something for the pain, and get him back to the cottage. She found two straight limbs and, thanking the Goddess that the man still slept, she straightened his leg, wincing as he moaned. She splinted it and was tying the last knot when she felt him stir.
She looked up and met his eyes, stilling herself for the fear she would see there. But his brown gaze only held bewilderment.
“Who are you?” he said.
“I am Thea, daughter of Dahlabar.”
“Thea,” he repeated. He moved and then gasped.
“Don’t,” she said. “You have broken your leg.”
“My leg.” He rubbed at his forehead. “Now I remember. A bear chased me. I climbed the tree.” He pointed to a tall oak. “And fell when I was coming down.”
“Why did you not just run from it…”
He frowned at her. “I am fleet on my feet, but I cannot outrun a bear.”
Thea flushed. “Of course not. Your horse could have…” She turned to point at the stallion, but it was gone.
“I don’t have a horse. I was walking.”
She looked around in surprise. “A stallion brought me to you.”
The man struggled to sit up. “If you must sit up, at least let me help you,” she said. “But first take this.” She handed him a finger’s width of dried poppy seeds. “It will lessen the pain.” She watched in silence as he chewed the seeds. “I would know your name,” she said as he swallowed.
The man flushed. “I apologize. I am Desmond, mage apprentice.” He stared into her eyes. “I have not seen you among the other apprentices.”
“I do not attend the Mage School,” she said.
“You do not?” His voice was sharp with surprise. “But I feel the power surging from you. It surrounds you with a green aura. And your eyes…”
She looked away from him. “You do not fear my slightest glance?” She felt her face heat at the bitterness of her mocking words.
“No. I have read of such eyes. You have been blessed by the gods.”
“Not the gods,” she said with a smile. “A Goddess.” She stood and reached down to him. “Are you ready to stand?
The poppy seeds had done their job, but still Desmond gasped as together they got him up onto his feet. Thea felt her knees try to buckle as he leaned against her. “This will never do,” she said.
She heard a soft snort and turned. The stallion stood across the clearing from them. “No horse, huh?” she said.
“He is not mine.”
Dahlabar came from the trees.
“Father,” Thea said. “I am so glad to see you.”
“The stallion brought me to you,” her father said. “What has happened?”
“Desmond has broken his leg,” she said. “He is from the Mage School.”
Dahlabar came to Desmond’s other side. “We will get him up on the horse.” He glanced at the darkening sky. “It is too late to take him to the school tonight. We will take him there in the morn.”
Thea looked up in surprise. Where had the day gone? It had been morning when she’d left with the stallion.
It was a struggle but, with the Dahlabar’s aid and the use of Desmond’s good leg, they were able to get him on the horse. Even so, the man’s face was as white as the stallion he rode by the time he was mounted.
Grimacing and breathing harshly, Desmond laced his fingers in the stallion’s mane.
Thea resisted the urge to pat his hand, somehow knowing Desmond would resent it. Instead she turned and walked from him. “The ride is not far.”
They walked in silence beneath a canopy of trees. She walked at one side of the stallion’s head and Dahlabar at the other. The shadows deepened and she began to fear that full darkness would descend before they made it to the cottage. The horse stumbled and Dahlabar reached to touch between its ears. “Careful, Goddess.”
“You called the stallion Goddess?” Desmond’s voice surprised her. She thought he’d drifted into sleep.
I did,” Dahlabar said.
But it’s a male.”
It is the Goddess.” Dahlabar’s voice held certainty.
Thea nodded in the darkness. Of course the stallion was She- Who- Is- the- Mother- to- Us-All. She turned and sought Desmond’s pale face. Why had she been led to this mage apprentice? Yes, he had broken his leg and needed aid, but she felt there was something more in the
Goddess’s plan. She smiled at the thought of the Goddess choosing to take the form of a stallion and not a mare to make herself known in a physical presence. The stallion butted her in the shoulder and she turned to stare into the horse’s eyes. Amusement lurked there.
“You say I am riding upon the back of a Goddess?” Desmond’s voice jerked her attention back to him.
“She led me to you,” Thea said. “If not you would still be laying on the ground.” She recognized a lightning-struck tree. “We are almost home.”
They entered the clearing and she saw the cottage. Soft light filtered from the edges of the shutters and smoke floated from the chimney. She felt a surge of happiness. Without prompting, the stallion stopped beside the stump Dahlabar used for splitting wood.
Thea rushed to Desmond’s side, but was stopped by a slight shake of Dahlabar’s head.The young mage swung his good leg over the horse’s back and slid onto the stump. She heard him gasp, but he remained upright, clutching the stallion’s mane. The stump was a good three axe lengths high. She wondered how he was going to complete the journey to the ground. He could break his other leg attempting to jump down. He glanced at her and his face flushed. Still he just stood there. Was she the problem? Male pride, she thought with a disdainful sniff, then turned on her heels and walked toward the cottage. Behind her she heard voices, but she did not cease her quick pace.
She opened the cottage door and stopped short. Tears filled her eyes. A cake sat in the middle of the table. It tilted to the side and icing coated more of the trencher it rested in, but it was a cake in celebration of her birth. The thought that she was sixteen summers old today had skipped her mind. Fresh flowers, some in jugs, others tied into small nosegays, and still others woven into garlands, decorated the room. She breathed in their sweet perfume, almost unable to swallow around the lump in her throat. A wrapped package lay on her chair next to the table. She moved to it and picked it up.
“Open it,” Dahlabar said.
She turned. He and Desmond stood just inside the doorway. She watched the young mage’s glance sweep over the cottage.
“I have disrupted your birth celebration,” he said.
“Maybe you are but another gift,” she said, and then felt her face burn as the words left her lips.
The mage smiled and hopped further into the room with Dahlabar’s help. “No matter. I promise you another gift when
I am able to return to you with it.”
Not meeting Desmond’s eyes, Thea fumbled with the string tying the package she still gripped. “Oh,” she breathed, as she caught sight of the cornflower-blue fabric. “What is it?” She pushed the wrappings aside and pulled the gift free. It was a gown. She held it to her cheek. It was like rubbing against a fawn’s skin. “But poppa-Dah, how? When…?” Her words trailed away.
Dahlabar smiled. “I have had sixteen summers to make it happen. I cannot give you much…”
Don’t,” she said. “I have all I could ever want or need.”
“Put it on,” Dahlabar said. “We will wait.”
She did not need to be urged twice. With a soft laugh, she turned and ran toward the loft ladder.
Her loft room was a haven for her, but just now she gave it but a cursory glance. She draped the blue gown across the bed and then slipped from the dress and apron she wore. Even with the new one waiting, she took time to hang the old upon the pegs protruding from the wall beam.
Thea shivered as the gown’s soft folds slid down her body. She imagined it would be the same as a lover’s touch. Such had been on her mind a lot lately, and her skin heated in response. Her thoughts shifted to the young man below. He had nice hands and wonderful green eyes. They reminded her of the moss that coated the rocks by the stream. His reddish hair had surprised her. She had not known someone could have hair the same shade of a fox’s fur. She ran her hands along her hips. The gown was beautiful and fit wonderfully. It was a bit tight in the bosom, but that had been a recent body change hidden by the shapelessness of her other gowns. She placed her hand on the low, round neckline. It displayed much flesh. Had her father known of that feature of its design? She doubted it. She glanced down at the grass-stained toes of her boots peeking from beneath the gown’s hem. It would have been nice to have slippers to match, but such things were not practical for woodland hikes.
Thea moved to her most treasured possession, a narrow mirror almost as long as she was tall. She had not asked where or how Dahlabar had gotten it, only laughed with delight as they had maneuvered it up the ladder into her room. She was not in the habit of gazing upon herself, but today was different. She looked at the reflection staring back. Had she changed? What she saw was a young woman with sun-blonde hair, pulled back from an oval face, and plaited into one long braid whose banded end brushed a trim waist. Bright blue eye, fringed with dark lashes, glowed with excitement. Her skin was softly golden, like a peach’s skin. She sighed as she touched a cheek pink with happiness; her skin would never be the milk white so favored by the court ladies. “But I’ve a different path before me,” she murmured.
“Daughter, my stomach growls.” Dahlabar’s voice rose to her.
Smoothing the gown, she turned from the mirror. “I am coming, poppa-Dah.”
Dahlabar stood at the ladder and, as her foot found the third rung, he grabbed her around the waist, pulled her from the ladder and swung her in a circle.
She laughed in delight as her head whirled, keeping time with the spinning room. “No more. I will be sick.”
Dahlabar stopped and then walked to her chair and deposited her in it. He stepped back and bowed to her from the waist. “Tonight you are my princess. How may I serve you?” The twinkles in his eyes branded his subservient tone a lie.
She flicked her fingers toward him. “I desire cake, knave. And my goblet is empty of wine.”
“I only live to please,” Dahlabar said, turning toward their water jug.
“If my lady wishes, I will cut the cake,” Desmond said, hobbling toward the table.
“Oh. No,” she said starting to rise.
“Stay,” Desmond ordered. “I am already here.”
“Then at least sit down,” she said, pointing to the remaining chair.
“I’ll not take my host’s seat.”
“Settle, young mage,” Dahlabar said. “Tonight I serve.”
“If you do not sit, then neither will I,” she said, preparing to stand. Desmond’s lips tightened, but she cocked at eyebrow at him. “It is my command,” she added.
The young mage smiled and slid into the chair.
She held out her goblet. “Now, wine, knave.” And then felt her eyes widen as red liquid poured from the pitcher’s mouth. “But…I did but jest. Where…?”
“A celebration, is it not, daughter?” Dahlabar poured wine into Desmond’s goblet and then into another. He raised his high. “Happy sixteenth birth anniversary,” he said.
Desmond also lifted his goblet, and then the two men waited and watched until she lifted her wine to her mouth and sipped. It was sweet and tart at the same time, and coated her throat with warmth as she swallowed. The wine hit her empty stomach and the heat spread. “My,” she said, fanning her face with her hand.
“Yes, a good vintage,” Desmond said after taking a long drink.
Dahlabar raised an eyebrow. “You drink wine often at the Mage School?”
The young man flushed, but instead of answering he took another drink.
Sensing his words to be only youthful boasting, Thea stood and reached for a knife to cut the lop-sided tower of cake. Buried beneath the slightly burned crust were clusters of nuts and juice berries. She placed a thick slice on Desmond’s trencher. He cast her a look of dismay, but at a glower from her he took a tentative bite.
A look of surprise covered his face, and he took a bigger bite and popped it in his mouth.
Curious, Thea cut a piece for Dahlabar and then one for herself. She felt Dahlabar’s gaze upon her as she took a bite. She smiled as the tastes of cinnamon and vanilla filled her mouth. The icing was made of clabbered cream and honey. No wonder it had been sliding off the cake’s sides. “This is wonderful, poppa-Dah.” She watched Dahlabar grin with pleasure.
“The baker’s widowed daughter showed me how,” he said. “Eat. Eat more.”
She did not have to be coaxed twice. She finished the slice and then another. Desmond and Dahlabar went two beyond hers.
Desmond pushed back from the table. “I could not eat a mouthful more.”
Thea reached for the pitcher. “More wine?”
The mage shook his head.
“Poppa-Dah?”
“No. I must rise early to see our guest returned to his school.”
Thea began to clear the table. Dahlabar laid his hand over hers.
“Not this eve, daughter. I will see to it. Go to bed.”
“But I’m not tired.” A yawn surprised her and she smiled as she covered her mouth with her hand. It had been a long day, but she hated to see the celebration draw to an end. She dared a quick look at Desmond. Tomorrow he returned to the Mage School. Would she ever see him
again? A sudden sadness made her sigh, and she stood. “I will say goodnight.”
Desmond stood, and then winced. “Good sleep, Thea.”
She stared at him for a moment. “And you.” She walked to the loft’s ladder.
*****
She awoke to voices, and for a moment wondered whom it was that Dahlabar spoke to, and then remembered the day before and Desmond. They would not leave without first seeing her? She kicked the coverings aside and pulled her new gown on. Forgetting her boots, she hurried down the ladder and out the cottage’s open door. Two heads swiveled toward her. Dahlabar had hitched their pony to the cart and Desmond sat upon the seat.
“Morning, lazy bumpkin. I was just going to wake you,” Dahlabar said.
She combed her fingers through her unbound hair. “Did you break your fast?”
Dahlabar grinned. “We finished off the cake.”
“You hair shines like molten gold,” Desmond said.
“What?” His words had been so low, she was not sure she had heard them.
“Nothing.” He reached for the reins.
“Not so quick, lad,” Dahlabar said, hopping into the seat beside the mage. “I will do the guiding. Maple is getting on in years, and I will not see her tired.”
Desmond loo
ked at her to Dahlabar and then focused his attention in the air between the pony’s ears. “I would like to visit again if I could.”
“What?” Dahlabar said.
“I would like to visit again.”
She held her breath as she waited for Dahlabar’s response, then released it as he said. “You are welcome, young mage.” He jiggled the reins and Maple moved forward. Desmond did not meet her gaze as the cart moved past. She felt a quick prick of irritation that was salved as the young mage turned and looked back as they exited the clearing.
*****
Desmond became a regular visitor and their friendship grew. At first the young mage came only when he knew Dahlabar would be there, but then he changed to times when he must have known she would be alone. They walked together in the woods, and he told her of the lessons he learned at the Mage School, of scrolls and their spells that made her heart yearn to see them herself. She told him of the animals she spoke to and healed, and of the far off lands they had journeyed from.
Today they again walked, but after Desmond helped her cross a wide log, he did not release her captured hand. Instead he pulled her close and kissed her. It did not surprise her. She had felt it coming. What did give her a start was the familiarity of the feel of his mouth upon hers. We have done this before. The thought came sure and strong. But how? Then she remembered last night’s dream, the two of them together, their naked bodies locked together in passion, but not in these forms. The memory made her heart beat fast and she pressed tightly against him. He stilled gripped her hand, but now released it to slip his arms around her waist and draw her closer still. His lips left hers to kiss their way down her throat. She moaned and lay back in his arms.
“I love you, Thea,” he murmured against the pulse that throbbed in her neck.
Her hands rose to clasp his shoulders and she felt his leave her waist and rise to cup her breasts. She gasped as her nipples hardened.
He raised his head to look into her eyes. “ I want to be with you always. Come to the Mage School with me. I have already spoken to them of you.”
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