by YatesNZ, Jen
Difleer's eyes darkened and she asked, ‘Then should I put up a `don't disturb' sign and take the afternoon off?’
Gynevra smiled conspiratorially back at her housekeeper.
‘Have you learnt to read my mind, Diffie?’
The housekeeper chuckled and went off with the sleeping Ugo, muttering, ‘It ain't hard.’
As soon as Ana left with the baby snuggled into her arms, Gynevra exposed a few more crystal heating bars to raise the temperature, dropped her warm woolen gown onto a carved agricola settle and took the gold inlaid ivory combs out of her hair. Moving to the foot of the bed she gazed on Taur's sleeping face and felt tears prick the back of her eyelids. In her three months of healing time after Ugo's birth she couldn't have stated categorically that he lay with no woman other than the ritual altar offering at dawn, but this time there was a deep knowing within that he waited for her, wanted only her. The knowledge was a strength, a power, and a terrible weakness within her.
Holy Ist, how she loved this man.
Grasping the colorful woven rug covering his relaxed body she began slowly tugging it towards her. He muttered incoherently, grabbed drowsily at the rug, then opened his eyes to connect directly with the fire in hers.
Covered only in the soft linen nerba he'd taken to wearing since just before Electra's birth, he lay like a great somnolent lion, his skin darkly golden, his mane blue-black and luxurious. Like the lion he resembled in that moment, the somnolence was only skin-deep and momentary. With a delicious frisson of anticipation, Gynevra knew he could rise and strike at any second. Her eyes roamed the perfection of muscle conformation, the many and varied scars of battle, the wicked promise inherent in the tattooed dragon on his breast and glowingly evident in the burning emerald eyes.
She smiled. He growled. Fire, carnal and liquescent, surged through her veins, set an inferno in her belly and melted her limbs. As they trembled beneath her she dropped the rug and gripped the carved bed-end.
‘Come here, woman,’ he commanded in little more than a deep husky whisper.
Leaping over the end of the bed, she climbed up his body and fastened her mouth to his. For a moment there was only the sound of her small, mewling moans of pleasure and his deep, soft growls of response. Then with an appreciative chuckle he cupped her face and lifted her head a little. Settling back into the clagren with a deep sigh of satisfaction, he questioned, ‘Are you sure, alara? I long and burn for you, but it's early yet.’
‘I'm so sure,’ she whispered, hot eyes locked with his, ‘I'll tie you to this bed and give you no choices if you resist me—and tell the world you're a clod indeed!’
With strong tearing fingers she ripped the ties from his nerba and dragged the cloth down his body. His growl then was pure animal as he rolled her to the bed and rose above her.
‘I can't be risking that now, can I?’ he asked with playful menace. Spreading her legs with his knees and gripping her wrists above her head in one hand, with tongue and lips he began re-acquainting himself with the contours of her body.
Much later as she lay in his arms and idly traced the lines of his tattooed dragon, she said, ‘I'm thinking I'll not perform as Adonai again.’
‘Why?’ he demanded. Then a startled look came over his face. ‘Alara, the people expect to see their King perform as Rafid from time to time. There is only joy in it for me if you're my Adonai. Indeed, you'd be expected to be present, to watch me be as godly as you know I can be—with another woman. Why won't you lie with me on the altar again? Don't you want to bear any more of my children?’
‘No! It's not that!’ She dropped her lashes and a slight flush touched her cheeks. ‘But I hadn't thought as far as you already have. I've had three babies, Taur. My body no longer has the perfection of a virgin or even a young priestess. There will be those to complain that the Goddess is sagging like an old hag—but I couldn't bear to watch you perform with another!’
Rising up on one elbow he gazed down at her and shook his head, growling, ‘Anyone dares notice the Goddess is anything other than perfection will answer to me. Your body is my masterpiece. Over years of loving me and bearing my children I've re-arranged your perfection to a greater perfection. I've stolen a little from here,’ he murmured, pressing his lips to the hollow of her throat, ‘and added it here.’
Sweeping his lips down her body, he touched a string of kisses from hip to hip across her belly.
‘I've filled your breasts and emptied them, creating a mature, womanly handful.’
He suckled all over and around each breast until she was giggling and squirming.
‘And then,’ he added, rising above her and thrusting deep towards her womb, ‘I've ploughed her field so well she desires only my plough—and I her field.’
Holding his body deep within hers, he said as if making a vow, ‘I too, have been thinking about what I want to do and what I don't. I would much rather be here like this with you for Dawn Ritual than taking some faceless virgin or priestess on a cold altar in the Temple. Today I intend to inform Dogon and my people, that henceforth their King will only perform Dawn Ritual once a tonn on God-day otherwise I'll be performing right here in my bed with my Queen. Also, I'll tell them I'll only perform as Rafid if I can persuade her to perform as Adonai.’
This time as they climbed to the stars together, tears poured down Gynevra's cheeks and he gently kissed them away between one thrust and the next.
Whether the King had become a clod or not was of far less concern to most than the strange weather phenomena. The long bitter winter broke straight into a harsh, searing summer. For a tonn the city streets ran like rivers as deep snowdrifts thawed and low-lying countryside lay under lakes of water. Then between one tonn and the next, or so it seemed, the ground was baked hard by a scorching virulent sun.
Several times most days the earth moved, rarely causing damage to be sure, but striking terror into the hearts of many, regardless. Suicides had become so frequent they were scarcely any longer news. People had begun to feel that each must do what felt right to them. Many more emigrated while others contended if the world was going to end they'd just as soon die in their own house in their own country as in some alien land among strangers.
With each new tremor Gynevra felt terror grow within her. It wasn't fear that the world would end. It was fear that she must leave Taur and her children, fear that in this she was being asked to make the greatest sacrifice any person could be asked to make. Each time the thought surfaced she stifled it with another. Taur would never let her go.
Once a month a priest of Zedalin would telondem Temple Oralin in Fyr Poseidyr or a priestess of Hecanil would telondem Temple Qurazil from the Star Path during the night hours when the Energy Web was de-activated. This was the only contact now between Poseidonia and Nyalda. King Ahron had declared Cadal Isidor II of Nyalda and his Queen and peoples traitors. Any Nyaldan setting foot on Poseidonian soil would be handed over to the priests to be executed as such.
But the sharing of information and the practicing of the ability to telondem was as ancient as the Temples themselves and wouldn't be prevented by the impotent ravings of a King many believed to have lost his mind. Thus it was known in Nyalda that wherever possible people were emigrating from the other province as they were from Nyalda. It was known also that while food supplies were dangerously low most people were still surviving. The extremes of weather, which had been so harsh in the north, had been less so in the south but the summer was very dry and what seed the people had managed to garner to plant had produced little. The future looked grim with starvation for thousands a surety.
By the time the next news was received from Poseidnoia it was late summer and it hadn't rained since the snows thawed at the end of winter. Nyaldans too began to ration food and the King did all he could to assist those desirous of emigrating, to do so before winter set in once again.
One day in every tonn Gynevra and Taur studied together with Dogon and Loganda at Zedanil. They were times of great mutua
l learning and growth. As Dogon said, it was no longer a case of him being the mentor. They all studied and learned together. Their current project was to find ways of raising the vibration of the general population with crystal energy so they needed less actual food. It had happened in Fyr Trephyr but this had been largely because the city was enclosed in glass, which had concentrated already excessive amounts of energy from crystals used to provide almost every daily need, from air and light to birdsong! Unfortunately, it had also spawned levon, the killer crystal fever.
From the invocation of the love, light and protection of the Gods on their learning circle that day they moved straight into discussion of the project.
‘We need to train the people to meditate daily for one hour in a room filled with the greatest concentration of crystal energy they can achieve. If they would overcome their fear of the Star Path it could probably help preserve their lives. The Power House could be used in this way also.’
‘Hunger is a great teacher. I'm sure if we can get a group willing to trial the idea and we can show conclusive proof it works, we'll get others to try it also,’ Dogon said.
‘We know the more we work with crystal energy the less food we need to sustain life. Every person we convince is a saving in food for someone else,’ agreed the King.
Loganda had just started to speak when there was a timid jingle of the doorbell. That the ringer had something of urgency to impart was instantly understood by each of the four for the study circles were sacrosanct and not to be disturbed except for matters of immense import.
Like a rock, Gynevra felt her heart hit the bottom of her chest. Whoever was beyond the door brought news of the worst kind. Breath stopped somewhere between heart and mouth and like a black abyss the floor started to rise toward her. Dragging air into burning lungs she lowered her head until the room stopped spinning about her. By the time she had her body under control, High Priest Arando stood before them, his face pale and serious.
‘I apologize for intruding,’ he said, ‘but I took telondem duty in the Star Path last night. I have deeply disturbing news from Poseidonia which I thought the King and Queen should know.’
Turning to Gynevra, Taur said sharply, ‘Gyn’a! Are you all right?’
Loganda rose quickly and went to Gynevra. Placing her hands on her shoulders she began channeling universal energy to calm and balance her. Taur moved his chair closer and took her ice-cold hands in his and began chaffing them. Gynevra felt as if she noticed in peculiar and intricate detail every small movement anyone made, almost as if each breath anyone took was of deepest importance.
Dogon let his awareness rest on the other three for an instant before returning to the priest. ‘What is this news?’
Arando looked concernedly at the Queen, then back at the Magus then kept his attention there throughout the telling.
‘I connected with High Priest Mondao at Oralin. He said that Fyr Poseidyr's in a terrible state. There's little food and people are starting to fight over it.’ He stopped and drew breath to calm himself. ‘Two days ago a horde of starving villagers from the hills between Poseidonia and Gadeirus swept down into the city. They stormed granaries and warehouses, and over-ran the markets looking for food. When they didn't find what they sought they looted Qurazil. It would appear by this time they were crazed with the knowledge their quest for food would fail and cared not what havoc they wreaked. They killed many priestesses, including Archinus Ianthe.’
Gynevra's heart stopped. Her eyes dilated and the blood left her face.
‘Gyn’a! Breathe!’ Taur commanded, then slapped her hard across her cheek.
With the gasping intake of breath came a terrible keening of grief. None understood that grief was for Taur and her children rather than for the woman who'd been more Archinus than mother to her. Dismissing Arando, who left with deep concern etched in his face, Dogon came and worked with Loganda to restore Gynevra's stability.
As they worked, understanding of what Ianthe's death really meant to Gynevra dawned on Taur.
‘Gyn’a, you're panicking. Stop it!’ he ordered gruffly, chaffing her cold hands between his own large, warm ones. ‘I'll not let you go—ever! This makes no difference. D'you think I'd let you go to a place where you'll starve to death if you're not killed by ravening hordes? There's nothing you can say, Gyn’a, that'll convince me your presence in that place or this will make any difference to the future.’
‘Taur, I must!’
Chapter 33
‘No! You—must—not!’ Surging to his feet, he began a kind of demonic pacing that came on him of late whenever he was greatly agitated. ‘I’ve not given my love to you in the face of society stigma to have you walk out on me! No one else has ever put pressure on you to return. The pressure all comes from within yourself. Everyone else knows the prophecy was the demented raving of an old woman near death. Why don’t you see that? You would not only leave me but our children also! Electra isn’t two months old! You would leave our beautiful son? Just as you left Solon?’
Gynevra flinched as if he’d slapped her then slumped in her chair with her arms held tightly across her stomach. Was there no end to the pain she must bear?
Taur kept pacing, his eyes wild, his voice loud and angry.
‘I keep telling you, Dogon tells you, Loganda tells you, it makes no difference to the Gods whether one person is in one place or another. Do you have some idea you’re more important than anyone else in Atlantis that the Gods would choose, or not, to destroy us on the whim of where you are? You might be a Queen, Gyn’a, but you’re no more important in the universal scheme of things than Foab! If you understand nothing else, understand this,’ he roared, coming to a halt in front of her, ‘I will never let you go!’
‘I think you’ve said enough, Sire,’ Loganda said, calmly stepping in front of him and blocking him from Gynevra’s view.
Dogon hadn’t spoken since dismissing the priest. Now he stepped back a little from Gynevra and raised his arms high in the air, palms facing out and drew a cone of calming energy over them all. Taur blinked and shook his head as if he’d come out of a trance and Gynevra slowly lifted her head and, staring straight through Loganda, said, ‘You’ve said more than enough, Taur. In your usual inimitable DragonBlood fashion, you’ve cut right to the heart of the matter—my heart. The likeness between you and Gotham was never more pronounced.’
It was Taur’s turn to flinch and pushing Loganda aside he dropped to his haunches before Gynevra.
‘Gyn’a! Gyn’a! Forgive me if I hurt you in the excess of my temper but you know what this is all about! I love you! I’ll never let you go and I’ll say anything to make you understand that! When you talk of leaving me you cut my heart to shreds—the heart you made me find and acknowledge!’
‘Then we’ll talk no more of it,’ she said. ‘I’d like to return to the Castle now. I don’t believe I could achieve anything in study or meditation today. I feel too greatly agitated. I need to—go and mourn my mother.’
At last the tears came and Taur took her into his arms and rocked her gently against his shoulder.
The news from Poseidonia spread quickly through Castle and city as did awareness the King never let the Queen out of his sight and had ceased the nightly de-activation of the Energy Web. Noted and talked about too, was the fact King and Queen had cancelled all evening Castle functions and retired to their private quarters early and alone each night. Rumor was rife and many speculated that their King aimed to bind his Queen to his side by impregnating her again.
And what, they asked, would happen now? Would old Electra’s prophecy be proven accurate after all? If Gynevra of Poseidonia really believed it, shouldn’t she be sent back to Qurazil where she belonged? The King had become a clod. Did he expect them all to sacrifice themselves for his love? There were Nyaldan women aplenty eager and willing to take her place. For that matter, there were men willing and capable of taking the role of King if Cadal Isidor couldn’t remain in Nyalda without her.
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nbsp; Aware of the growing unease and tension throughout the city and struggling day by day with a deepening sense of panic within herself, Gynevra found it more and more difficult to leave the royal apartments. Not that there was any more safety to be had within those walls but her sense of impending doom continued to heighten.
On the morning of the fourth day after Ianthe’s death that formless fear became a leaden certainty in her heart. She’d dreamed of Ugo as a grown man but he wore strange white robes and a jeweled head-dress like nothing she’d ever seen in Atlantis. He’d held out his hand to her, palm down as if reaching for hers. As she lay wondering at the meaning of it she realized her ring, the one Taur had given her after the day of their joining, had been glowing at her from Ugo’s little finger.
Longing to, yet knowing she didn’t dare share the dream with Taur, her fingers sought his ring on her finger, as they often did. Turning it, caressing the filigreed pattern of it, seemed to assist thinking.
The ring wasn’t on her finger and no amount of searching on her part or anyone else’s, discovered it. She knew she’d been wearing it when she went to bed. She and Difleer practically tore the apartments apart and as each hour passed with no sign of it, Taur’s face became more set, more dark and strained. Gynevra knew the thought was in his mind as it was in hers, that this was an omen of separation they could not ignore. Time and again she found herself starting to tell him of the dream, then biting back the words knowing they would only increase his despair.
For she knew it was despair that filled him, just as it filled her.
She found herself desiring to beg him to let her go and gripped with terror in case he acceded to her plea. Or worse, lost his temper and beat her as Gotham had done—and he never had. Another part of her longed to cling to him and have him tell her over and over her fears were ill-founded.
Holy Ist, she prayed repeatedly in her mind. Holy Ist help us!
