Feynard
Page 63
“Ooh … that gives me a right turn!” And then he did a double-take. “Excuse me, now that’s cheating!”
“Distracted, my dear sweet Wizard?”
“Exceedingly.”
Alliathiune’s eyes sparkled at him. “Think of ordinary Dryad clothes like another layer of skin. Better, like bark we can shed or change at will. We do wear other fabrics, but you might call this a Dryad’s ‘standard’ attire.”
“Mmm,” he said, catching up with her. “You’re a terrible tease, and you give me the most lascivious urges. May I dally with you, my indecently under-dressed sweetheart?”
After such a dalliance, they moved on. Kevin wondered if Alliathiune was covering up her nervousness, because she soon became quieter, even pensive. She twirled a lock of hair in her fingers, a sure sign he had learned to identify. And she grew her loincloth out into her habitual short dress, much to his disappointment.
“We’ll have to work out how we handle all this couples’ therapy you just signed us up for,” he said, grimacing as his imagination served up an image of him dispatching dozens of topless Dryads to the four corners of the Hills with orders to repopulate Dryadell. “I’m sure the requests are about to come flying in. I’ve a crazy notion regarding a modified laik-Sälïph spell tied to a piece of wood a Dryad might keep in her pocket–and imagine the change when Dryads start to bring men back here?”
“You can see the waterfall now,” Alliathiune said, pointing.
“I see.”
Silently, she led him around a small vegetable field, out along one of the great trunks of the Dryalê-iuoue-än trees, which was as wide as a decent road–and passable as long as Kevin kept his eyes on the far side and did not think about how deep a ravine they might be crossing–and from there onto a rocky peninsula that jutted out of the ravine’s side. The path climbed over a root, whose thickness Kevin estimated at twice his height, and from there up to a pretty waterfall, which plunged into a crystal-clear pond. Alongside the pond stood a tall, slender tree, with lavender-coloured flowers.
“Wait here,” said Alliathiune. “Dyalithi are terribly shy.”
“Dear one, if she agrees to meet me, would you ensure she’s decent? There are certain things about your mother I neither want nor need to know as yet.”
For answer, the tiny Dryad stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “You sweet man, you must love me an awful lot.”
“Oh, how I suffer.”
Alliathiune approached the tree diffidently. She had not seen her mother–ever. Kevin could hardly imagine how she felt.
She stood there a long time, speaking to the tree. All that he could hear was the splashing of the waterfall and the chirping of unseen birds in the nearby bushes. Quite suddenly, he saw a face form in the bark. The Dryad gasped and bit her knuckles. A hand formed, and hesitantly reached out to touch Alliathiune’s cheek.
Then there was weeping, and joy indescribable.
Snatcher’s Afterword
I, the Lurk of Mistral Bog common-named Snatcher, do by my own paw testify to the veracity of this account. In places, I have permitted Zephyr Tomalia and Kevin Jenkins to add their own parts and words, of which I changed no significant detail.
This record I therefore humbly submit to the historical archives of Thaharria-brin-Tomal, with the following afterword:
Let it be recorded that an extraordinary wedding took place at the Sacred Grove just a few lighttimes after Thäos-brin-Ellian, or the battle of Elliadora’s Well, in which Kevin, High Wizard and Treefriend of Driadorn, and Alliathiune, the Dryad Seer and Daughter of the Forest, made their eternal vows in the company of our most excellent friends and companions. The party afterward became the stuff of legend–was I not there, with my beautiful coterie of twenty-three mates? Did I not see with my own eyes?
And it came to pass that a moon after the battle, a Seedling was indeed planted on the site of the seventh Elliarana tree, in a sacred and very private ceremony attended by just three people–Kevin, Alliathiune, and the dyalithi who was Alliathiune’s mother. Kevin reported a third knell, like unto the first two, at the moment of blessing the planting. What this does mean, no creature knows. But I felt it shiver the very earth of Feynard.
Presently a Unicorn was seen to tarry at that spot, admiring the tiny, slender sapling, and after that, a Lurk of Mistral Bog, and then a Mancat and a Druid together. Later still, under cover of darkness, the Dragon-Magus Amberthurn also paid his homage, and spoke at some length with Alliathiune and Kevin, who had been expecting him. And the Dragon-Magus helped Kevin ward the Sacred Grove about with the mightiest wards known to the Dragon-kind, and invited the High Wizard to study the new magic he had uncovered beneath Black-Rock Keep. Does this presage a new alliance between the Forest and the Dragon-kind? Only the passing of Leaven seasons will tell.
The Seedling would be named seven Leaven seasons later at her coming out ceremony. The historians do not yet know that Kevin and Alliathiune will choose to name her Feynearthiune, the girl who was born of both Feynard and Earth. But that is another story.
About the Author
Marc is a South African-born author who lives and works in Ethiopia with his wife and 4 children, 2 dogs, a rabbit, and a variable number of marabou storks that roost on the acacia trees out back. On a good night you can also hear hyenas prowling along the back fence.
When he’s not writing about Africa Marc can be found travelling to remote locations. He thinks there’s nothing better than standing on a mountaintop wondering what lies over the next horizon.
Growing up in Cape Town gave Marc a love of all things salty, and is the inspiration for the IsleSong series–ocean worlds, whales as you have never imagined them, and adventure on the high seas await!
Other Books by Marc Secchia
The IsleSong series: (Young Adult and older readers) Richly imagined and evocative epic fantasy. A story for anyone who loves the ocean and its whales, salt water in their hair, and the gentle rasp of beach sand between their bare toes. This story will transport you to a beautiful, unspoiled ocean world where people have to rely on Whales to travel between the islands. A world where danger can, and does, lurk beneath any wave.
The Girl who Sang with Whales (IsleSong Book 1)
The Shioni of Sheba series: (Middle Grades and older readers) Unique African historical fantasy adventures set among the myths and legends of ancient Ethiopia.
Shioni of Sheba #1: The Enchanted Castle
Shioni of Sheba #2: The King's Horse
Shioni of Sheba #3: The Mad Giant
Shioni of Sheba #4: The Sacred Lake
The Legend of El Shashi (Young Adults and older readers) An extraordinary life. A terrible fate.
El Shashi, man of many names. Some say he is a miracle-worker. Others, a god. Many call him an abomination, spitting at his name.
And these are his names: Soulstealer, Kin-Reaper, the Burning One, the Whisperer, the Running Man, Stormtide over Gethamadi, Benok Holyhand, Scourge of the Westland, the Plague-Rider, and, worst of all, Bringer of the Wurm.
Be it known: legend is his mantle,
Eldest of his race, the awesome progenitor of all burrowing creatures,
Name him God-mountain, sleeping at the root of the world,
Exalted and cunning in ancient ways,
The Great Wurm, the wellspring of power.
A mighty sorceress, bent on revenge. The man who dared to cross her. A curse of limitless power. The rest is history. This is the legend of El Shashi.
The Legend of El Shashi
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