by S. D. Grady
Arlynn struggled to find an answer. She knew she had to have something from the beaten and bloody man before her. Even now, the power arced between them, invisible to the clerk and general. The spell he had begun to cast on the battlefield was not complete yet. Arlynn needed to finish it, or never heal another person again. Her powers were locked up tight in the spell.
She settled for telling a half-truth. “Even so, general. I cast a healing spell on him, and it was incomplete. I must finish it before my powers can be used for the benefit of our troops. I was unaware of his identity when I began."
The general appeared to consider this. After only moments, he executed a short bow. “As you require healer. The clerk and I will leave you."
The door closed, and the heavy lock clicked into place. Myrric studied Arlynn closely.
"When I woke, I had no powers. What have you done to me?” he asked in a hard tone.
"Nothing more than what you did to me,” she answered evenly. She reached towards his arm. He flinched in anticipation of the impending effect, but his restraints held him in place.
"You were casting a spell before you passed out on the battlefield,” she murmured as her hand settled above the burns on his arm. Power and passion erupted between them. The blue peace of healing waters lapped against the crimson sparks of fire.
Arlynn watched Myrric fight the odd effects of their melding.
"What were you casting?"
His mouth grimaced. “A fireball."
She considered. “So, you did not get the chance to send the power out from you. It now sits in me."
His black eyes watched her carefully.
"But my power lies in the oceans, not the fires.” She paused seeking for a way to let him understand what was happening. “The surge of power I took from you ebbed away for a bit on the tide. Now it is a cresting wave, and it needs to be used somewhere.” She bit her lip. “I could heal you. Your power would be restored, and our armies would not withstand the next Blast you send our way."
He began to twist, pulling at his bindings.
She stood, settling her hand on his cheek. He stilled. “But then my powers would ultimately be used to hurt, not heal. I could not bear that.” She bent over, her breath heating his lips. “But such power ... it must be used for something.” Sparks began to fly through the air.
Myrric eyed the temptress before him warily. Myths and legends were passed down at the School of Fire and War of a woman made of water, light and joy. Surely the elfin child with eyes the color of the sea and a touch that set his blood boiling could not be...
"Let me help you, Myrric,” her moist lips whispered. “Let me take all the anger away. Let me give you joy."
"Joy?” he laughed roughly. “I have never known joy. It is not for such as I."
Her fingers, soft and agile traced his cheek. Memories of heat and contentment surged forth.
"Nonsense, Myrric. What you have given me, I am not sure. But I do know what I cannot do. I cannot allow you to take that power and kill more people.” Her breath teased the small hairs near his left ear. “I can only heal.” Her hands demanded more as they crossed his chest. “I can only love."
Myrric shook his head. “Nonsense. You are just one more soldier sent to end my powers."
"No. I can see it now. I'm sure you can see it too. Look deep within, Myrric."
He took a cleansing breath, slipping into a light trance and saw. There, nearly lost in his confusion was a plain of scorched earth. Standing in the midst of the tragedy stood a pair of lovers. Under their feet, the earth heaved with life reborn, green things returning to the battlefield.
Myrric opened his eyes. “What is your name?"
"Arlynn."
"What I see I doubt."
The siren climbed onto his lap, her arms twining about his neck, drawing him nearer. “Mayhap you are doubtful because you have never known joy. What is coursing through my veins in this instant,” she paused as she kissed his brow and cheeks, “is much too strong to doubt."
Her lips drew a long kiss from his. Myrric's heartbeat increased with the demands she placed upon him. Opening his mouth, her tongue plunged in. Flames, banked to coals since the day before, sprang to life. He forged the link between them, heating the liquid desire with which her hips and breasts assaulted him.
The two separated, desperately seeking air.
"Are you doubting me now?” she demanded.
Myrric shook his head. Peace stole through his soul as she tugged at his breeches.
"What are you doing?” he asked inanely.
"I have no idea,” her voice shook.
"Look at me,” he demanded.
Arlynn's hands paused in their efforts to release him. A single strand of golden hair hung over her blue eyes as she turned a crimson face to his.
"What are you doing?” the question was softer this time.
Arlynn's chin quivered as she tried to find the words for what she must do. After taking several deep breaths she said, “I'm going to give you all the love you need. I'm going to heal you."
It was as simple as that, Myrric realized. Even though his hands were bound to a chair in his enemy's land, this girl was going to lay her life down with his, releasing him from the torment of his calling.
"Kiss me."
Arlynn paused only a moment, drinking in the acceptance and joy, yes she found joy, in the shrewd black eyes of her patient. She leaned forward once more and set fire to his lips.
She sensed a commitment from him to their actions that spurred her own emotions. Sweat gathered between her legs, anticipation furled her nipples tightly against the rough fabric of her shift. Sensation was all! No longer contemplating the significance of each motion, Arlynn drowned in the lava pool of passion.
His rough beard scratched at her cheek. Arlynn tilted her head back, seeking cooling air only to have his teeth begin a taunting path down her throat.
Seeking relief from the torrent of flame, she pulled at her jerkin and shift, baring her breasts to the flashing tongue of her captor. She guided his mouth towards an aching peak. Lightning streaked through her breast to her stomach and flooded her pussy with dripping desire.
Arlynn's hands wandered lower, encountering the rigid length of his erection beneath her. Even so, he continued to suck and nibble at her breasts. Agony, delight, cooling waterfalls, and deep pools of longing urged Arlynn on towards an unfathomable reward.
Unlacing his breeches and freeing his penis from his linens, Arlynn grasped the silken rod. His lips and teeth became even more demanding as her virginal touch discovered the wonders of the male body.
Arlynn raised herself up, straddling his lap and lowered herself down. Her knees supported her on the thin edge of the stool he sat on. Arlynn paused when the tip of his cock nudged at her entrance. Echoes of Mother Salias’ guidance and teachings warred with the draw of the power and Myrric's joy.
He looked up. Arlynn's breath caught. There were no stars now hiding in his face; only the shining face of the Moon, smiling and cool, eager to lead her children on into the never-ending night.
"Come, my dear, it's time we went home.” He smiled and it speared Arlynn's heart.
She lowered herself onto his cock, ever so slowly, allowing each and every inch of her body to caress his. Until her barrier prevented any further movement.
"Do it,” he commanded, his voice a raspy shadow.
Arlynn nodded, leaned into her lover once more and sharply descended.
The branding of her soul was unexpected but welcomed. A flood of happiness overtook the angry heat as she moved upon him. Arlynn found the rhythm of old as his hips rose up to meet hers. Her heart nearly erupted as the urgency of completion approached.
His teeth sank into her collarbone. At the sharp pain, Arlynn closed tightly about his shaft. They grunted. And then sighed. She nipped at his throat, sucking as hard as she dared. His hips bucked wildly as he attempted to throw her off, each movement driving them closer. Closer to the end.
Her nails scarred his neck. His mouth clamped about a nipple. Fury, a cascade of urgency, fire and the rush of the tides took them up and tossed them into a place only Arlynn and Myrric would ever see.
A flash of light exploded about them.
Joy! This was joy.
* * * *
The following morning Arlynn joined every person in the encampment to witness the execution of the High Mage Myrric. She couldn't calm her nerves. After their electric joining the day before, she had been afraid to heal anybody else all afternoon. Enormous surges of blue and red power licked at her nerves, barely contained in the joy she felt at the new life in her womb. Her fingers lingered at her collarbone where she would always bear his mark.
Something wondrous and frightening had happened between her and the High Mage. It would surely require a pilgrimage to the Healer Hall high in the mountains to understand all the consequences of her actions. However, right now, she could only try to contain the confusion in her heart.
She barely recognized the bloody body that the guards carried to the chopping block. She knew he was unconscious. She had felt each and every blow delivered to his body over the long night. She was linked beyond any reason to his every pulse.
The moment that the axe fell, severing his head from his body, Arlynn suffered a complete surcease of power. Death licked at her soul. Grief poured over her. Her life had ended.
* * * *
Mother Salias’ hands lay on Arlynn's womb, her eyes closed in a deep trance. A frown gathered at her brow and then a smile.
Arlynn still could not stop the tears. Eight months had passed since the father of her child had been executed. Eight months since she could feel the pulse of the village's well-being. Eight months since she had woken each morning with a purpose.
Mother Salias returned her hands to the depths of her robes. “Do you know why a union between Fire and Water is forbidden?"
Arlynn shook her head, tired of trying to figure out what would become of her and her child.
"Well, a Water and Earth union builds on the healing and growing powers inherent in their quadrants. Likewise, Fire and Air fuel the fury of their ability to tear things down. The children of such unions usually have stronger powers than their parents. It is the way to build a better tomorrow."
Arlynn nodded her understanding.
"And a union between Fire and Water or Fire and Earth usually results in the charring of the healing powers.” Mother Salias paused, a smile dancing at the corners of her mouth. “Hence, those unions are discouraged for the benefit of all involved. But...” she raised a finger, “Once, just once in a great while, the Sun and Moon send us a Healer powerful enough to balance the vagaries of war. It appears that was you."
Arlynn blinked.
"Your son, nay, the son of the High Mage and the High Healer will be able to bring peace to us all."
Arlynn tried to understand. A day when her village would not be threatened by the enemy? A year when extra cattle where not needed for the army? A year when all she needed to do was kiss a scratched knee or bruised finger...
"Your son will be a mighty mage capable of utilizing both your healing powers and his father's fire powers. He will bring balance. He will let us rest."
Stunned, the only question Arlynn could summon was, “Why?"
Her chin was grasped firmly, “Because you took Myrric's fury and turned it into life with your love. That is no small thing, little one."
Doubt still assailed Arlynn. “But was it right?"
Mother Salias stepped back, considering the question. “Think on your child, little one. Is his existence right?"
The day Arlynn held Myrlynn in her arms, a gurgling child with the moon in his eyes and the sun in his hair, she knew. It was right.
Book II: Grelig's Hammer
Grelig entered the Village Hall, bowing to the guard at the eastern door before taking his seat in the eastern quadrant. The other members of the Elemental Body of the Village of Trillith were already seated. There were not many, only three were present in each quadrant: Earth, Water, Fire and that of Grelig's gift, Air.
The square Hall was sealed, the guards closing the doors set in the middle of each wall. The Village Four stood, their table centered in the room.
In one voice they intoned, “Earth, Water, Fire and Air bring Balance. Balance brings peace."
The Elemental Body repeated the litany and the Four resumed their seats.
Silence settled over the room.
At length the Village Fire Mage, Fioric, stood. “We have grave concerns regarding the safety of our village. We did not call a general village meeting because we fear that the cause of our discontent is one of us, an Elemental, but one that is unknown. We did not wish to bring further persecution down upon our Gifted Enclave. The villagers without Gifts would more than likely panic, clouding the source of the problem."
Grelig, the blacksmith stood, his massive body looming over the others about him. “What is the problem?"
Fioric shifted, clearly disconcerted. “When we, the Village Four, met and joined to communicate with the other villages in our region yesterday, we detected a shift in the local powers. We thought at first some farmer or migrant had given birth to a new Elemental. But no...” his voice sank before continuing.
"This shift did not settle into a quadrant.” Fioric studied the faces of those gathered about him. “We suspect that evil is at work."
The men and women in the Hall murmured. Nobody spoke the forbidden words, not when the unthinkable may have happened.
Meryl, the Village Healer, stood and joined Fioric. “With the unceasing hostilities, our army is constantly distracted from local threats to deal with the enemy. We must accept that General Erlic's infantry could not possibly find or deal with one who is committing a crime against the Elements and therefore, our community. We are asking you, the Elemental Body of Trillith, to seek out and bring to light any violations against those that live within the village. If we can unearth the source of this shift in power, we may be able to determine its intent.” She eyed the assembly before finishing, “I pray to the Sun this power seeks to bring balance."
Grelig spent several minutes talking to his neighbors before taking his leave. He worried the warning was much too vague. But then, even the Village Four were not the most powerful Elementals in the Land of the Sun. Perhaps it was nothing.
As he returned to his small cottage on the edge of the village, Grelig felt that perhaps it was more than that.
Part I
The song of the hammer thrummed through Grelig's body, the bellows adding a rhythmic whoosh with each breath the blacksmith took. Fire reflected off his glistening torso, soaked in the sweat of hard work and concentration.
The horseshoe widened with each blow. With two more hits, the shoe would be the right shape for nailing onto the massive warhorse standing patiently in the shade of the smithy.
Steam rose in a cloud as he cast the completed shoe in the cooling bucket.
Grelig paused a moment, the coals of the fire settling into a darker shade as he allowed the bellows to break their rhythm. He placed the next shoe into the fire.
He wiped his arm across his brow, took a breath, called the Air to him and swung his hammer high over the anvil. The shoe sang under the assault. Again, it rang out into the dull afternoon of the village Trillith.
The elemental power of Air that gave Grelig his ability to maintain the wind through the bellows allowed his forge to glow brighter and steadier than any other in the Land of the Sun. Thus, the swords, armor and even the simple iron pots hanging over many a local hearth that came from Grelig's hammer could withstand centuries of abuse.
There was great satisfaction to be found in the forging of simple horseshoes. Grelig smiled and held his handiwork up. Quickly he moved to the black gelding and began the process of nailing the shoe in place. The beast leaned upon Grelig's back, happy to ease his massive weight from his plate-sized hooves.
"Just one more sh
oe, old boy.” Grelig slapped the complacent horse and returned to the anvil, removing the last shoe from the fire.
He raised his hammer to bring the first strike. A movement in the shadows of the rear of the smithy by the window caught his eye. He paused, waiting for the flutter of light to repeat. Nothing happened. He took a deep breath and let the hammer fall. The thief made another move. Maintaining his arm's rhythm, Grelig raised the hammer and threw it at the door, the thief's chosen route of escape. The hammer slammed into the open timber door and dropped to the earthen floor before the stunned man.
The thief stopped and turned his head towards the prowling hulk of the blacksmith.
Grelig paused in his tracks. “Bloody hell! You're a girl!"
She squeaked before turning back towards the door.
He leapt forward and grabbed her arm. “Oh no! You'll not be leaving without making yourself known, my girl."
Swinging her into the light of the sun, Grelig got a better look at the girl. Huge, round, brown eyes gave her emaciated face expression. Grelig loosened his grip when he realized that there was nothing more than skin over her bones, only to have her jerk back with surprising strength.
"Let go!” she muttered as stringy, gray brown hair fell into her face.
Grelig firmed his hold on the waif again. With a firm shake, he gained her attention and for the moment, she stilled.
Grasped tightly in her shaking hand was the sack that contained Grelig's lunch of cheese and bread. Anger coursed through his veins. “Who's your master?” he demanded in a low voice.
Her jaw firmed even as her doe eyes widened in terror. “I cannot tell."
"Oh, I think you will.” Grelig hauled her to him and slung the wriggling slave girl over his shoulder. He paused at the forge to check that no coals would escape and placed the unworked shoe on a nail. With a thought, the punched lanterns overhead were extinguished.
"Let go!” she pleaded again. Her fists pummeled his bare back.
"No."
Grelig left the smithy through a low door at the rear and walked across a narrow lane to a small cottage. He stooped as he entered the dim interior. The girl he placed onto the single chair. When she made a move to leave, he reached up to his queue and removed the leather strip that bound the braid. Shortly the girl's wrists were firmly tied to the back of the chair.
