Ancestors Of Avalon - Ancestors of Avalon Part 24
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Ancestors of Avalon Part 24

Won't you tell us what to do?

Ai, ya, ya . . ."

The game required that the person being "honored" get up and dance around the circle. Liala, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright, made a slow circle and then, to the accompaniment of enthusiastic cheering, bestowed a hearty kiss on the leader of the singers, a grey-bearded elder who was the closest thing the villagers had to a bard.

"Selast, like the wind you runa"

Ai, ya, ai ya, ya!

Won't you stop and have some fun?

Ai, ya, ya . . ."

Not anymore . . . thought Damisa, glumly. She'll be hobbled now, at Kalaran's beck and call . . .

The brilliance of the long summer's day was softening now to a luminous twilight. Treetops edged the clearing with an interlace of branches, black against the shell pink of the western sky, but eastward, the long slope of the Tor still caught the light. For a moment it seemed to Damisa that the glow came from within. Or perhaps it was only the drink, she told herself then, for when she blinked and looked again, all she could see was a dim bulk above the trees.

"Kalaran taught us how to rowa"

Ai ya, ai ya, ya!

Teach him how to tup his doe!

Ai, ya, ya . . ."

Someone called out in the marsh folk tongue and was answered by cheers and laughter. It took Damisa a few moments to realize they were calling for volunteers to escort the bridal couple to their bedding. She allowed herself one look at her beloved. Selast's flower crown was askew, her eyes bright with mingled excitement and apprehension.

"Go with your husband . . ." she muttered, lifting her cup in ironic salutation, "and when you lie in his arms, may you wish that you were still in mine."

The escort returned and the dancing started up once more. Reidel had taken over one of the drums. His teeth flashed white in his dark face as he grinned, his fingers flickering above the taut skin. She observed a little resentfully that he seemed to be having a good time. Some of the sailors whirled by hand in hand with village girls. Iriel was sitting with Elis on a log at the edge of the clearing. Otter stood by them, and as Damisa watched, Iriel laughed at something he said and allowed him to lead her into the dance.

As Damisa got up to refill her cup, she encountered Tiriki, who was getting ready to leave the celebration, holding a sleepy Domara by the hand. Chedan and the other senior clergy had already gone.

"It is well past her bedtime," said Tiriki with a smile, "but she did want to see the dancing."

"It certainly is different from the way we celebrated things in the Temple," Damisa answered sourly, remembering the exquisitely prepared meals and the stately dances.

"But you can see why. Survival is so uncertain here. It's no wonder that when people have food and fire in abundance they revel in it. It's an affirmation of life for them, and for us, as well. But now it's time for sleep, isn't it, my darling?" Tiriki added as Domara yawned. "Will you walk with us back to the Tor?"

Damisa shook her head. "I'm not ready to seek my bed."

Tiriki eyed the cup in Damisa's hand and frowned, as if considering whether or not to exert her authority. "Don't stay here and brood. I know that you and Selast were close, buta""

"But it is possible to live unmated, you would say? Like you?" Even as Damisa spoke she knew the beer had betrayed her.

Tiriki straightened, eyes flashing, and Damisa took an involuntary step backward.

"Like me?" Tiriki spoke with quiet intensity. "Pray to the gods that you never know the joy I had, lest you also one day feel my pain." She turned abruptly and strode away, leaving Damisa staring stupidly.

Events after that became a little hazy. At one point she looked up to see Otter and Iriel heading for the bushes, arms entwined. She got to her feet, blinking. Only a few people were left beside the fire. Reidel was one of them.

"My lady, are you well?" He came quickly toward her. "Can I help you back to the House of Maidens?"

"Well? Very well . . ." Damisa giggled and steadied herself against his shoulder. He smelled of heather beer and sweat. "But I'm . . . a little drunk." She hiccuped and laughed again. "P'raps we'd better wait . . . a while."

"Walking will help," he said firmly, tucking her arm in his. "We'll take the path that circles the Tor."

Damisa was not entirely sure that she wanted to lose the warm buzz of the beer. But she had noticed before that Reidel's arm was strong and comforting. Holding on to him did make her feel better, and when they sat down to rest on a grassy bank with a view of moonlight on the water, it seemed natural to rest her head against his shoulder. Gradually her dizziness began to ease.

It took a little while for her to notice that fine tremors were shaking the hard muscle beneath her cheek. She straightened, shaking her head.

"You are tremblinga"are you cold, or was I too heavy for you?"

"No . . ." His voice, too, seemed strained. "Never. I was foolish to think I could . . . that you would not know . . ."

"Know what?"

He released her abruptly and turned away, his body a dark shape against the stars. "How hard it is for me to hold you and do no more . . ."

That heather beer has loosened your control too, she thought then, or you would not dare to say so! But why should she deny him, she wondered then, since Selast was lost to her?

"Then do ita"" she said, grasping his arm and drawing him back to face her.

Reidel came closer in a single smooth movement that took her by surprise, one arm tightening around her waist while the other lifted to tangle in her hair. In another moment he had pulled her against him and his lips sought hers, at first tentative, then hard as her own need responded to his. The stars whirled overhead as he bore her down upon the grass, his hands first questioning, then demanding, as lacings and pins gave way.

Her breath came faster as a slow fire that owed nothing to the heather beer began to burn beneath her skin. In those moments when his lips were not otherwise busied, Reidel's voice was a whispered accompaniment of wonder and adoration.

This is not right, thought Damisa in a moment of clear thought as he released her in order to pull off his tunic. I am only driven by lust, and he by love . . .

But then Reidel rolled back and his wandering hand found the sanctuary between her thighs. Desire descended upon Damisa like the coming of a goddess, melting all her thoughts of restraint, and she welcomed his hard strength as his body covered hers.

Tiriki lay wakeful upon her narrow bed, but sleep would not come. She could hear the drumming from the fire circle like the throbbing pulse of a man and woman in the throes of love. Her lips twitched with wry amusement. There had been gasps and laughter from among the bushes as she carried Domara back to bed, and she had been grateful the child was not awake to ask her what was making the noise. Weddings were celebrated at times propitious for matings, so it was no wonder if others found themselves stirred by the same energies.

Unfortunately she could feel that yearning as well as anyone else, and she was alone. She could imagine herself in Micail's arms, but the stimulation of memory was no substitute for the exchange of magnetism that took place with a physical partner.

Oh my beloved . . . it is not only my body that longs for yours . . . when our spirits touched, we remade the world.

From beyond the curtain Tiriki could hear Domara's regular breathing, and an occasional snore from Metia, who still served as the child's nursemaid. Moving softly so as not to wake them, Tiriki got up and pulled a shawl over the shift in which she slept.

She would go and see if Taret, who customarily kept late hours, was also wakeful. The older woman's wisdom had supported her through many crisesa"perhaps Taret could teach her how to survive the endless loneliness of the coming years.

"Will it be permitted . . . do you think they will they let us marry?"

Damisa came back to full awareness with a start as she realized that Reidel was talking to her. He had been speaking for quite some time, actually, words of love which she had ignored as she tried to understand just what had happened between them and why.

"Marriage?" She looked at him in surprise. Reidel had always seemed so self-contained. Who would have suspected he had so much passion dammed up inside?

"Did you think I would have dared to touch you if my intent had been dishonorable?" He sat up, shocked.

Do you think that if mine had been honorable I would have let you? Damisa bit back the bitter words, remembering that she had wanted this as much as he, if for different reasons. She sat up in turn, reaching for her gown.

"The matings of acolytes are ordained by the stars . . ."

"But I am of the priesthood now, so surelya""

"Nothing is sure!" snapped Damisa, driven beyond patience suddenly. "Least of all me! Do you consider what we just did a commitment? I descend from the princes of Alkonath and may not mingle my blood with any lesser breed!"

"But you lay with me . . ." he repeated, uncomprehending.

"Yes. I did. I have needs, just like youa""

"Not like me . . ." Reidel drew a long, shuddering breath. She felt a twinge of compunction as she realized he understood her at last. "I love you."

"Well . . ." she said when the silence had gone on too long. "I am sorry."

Reidel grabbed his tunic and belt and got to his feet, slinging them over his shoulder as if disdaining to hide his nakedness. "Sorry! I could find a cruder word." But he did not say it, and by that she understood that what he felt for her was indeed love. For a moment she saw the graceful line of muscled shoulder and tapering hips stark against the stars, then he turned and strode down the path, leaving her alone.

I spoke truth, she told herself. I don't love him! So why, she wondered, was her last sight of that departing figure suddenly blurred by tears?

Sixteen.

The evening is cold and the wind plucks at hair and garments like a mischievous child, but Chedan's travel cloak keeps him warm. His body is young again, responding to every command of his will. Grinning, he lurches through rough-leafed high hedges, following a deer path downhill.

The sudden cry of a bird of prey rips through the silencea""Skiriiiiii!" a"the falcon is at once behind him and above him. Instinctively Chedan ducks, but there is no attack.

After a moment, he moves forward toward the glowing ring of standing stones. Five great trilithons loom through the mist, and in their shaping he recognizes the touch of Atlantis. But the statue of a dragon stands between him and the stones. He pauses, listening, as a voice thinned by pain but oddly familiar keens, "Tiriki, Tiriki."

"Are you there?" Chedan sings. "Micail? Is it you?"

But the dragon has become a falcon with Micail's face, beating against the grey mist with shining dark wings.

"Osinarmen? You would disguise yourself? Here?"

"Skiriiiii!" The same savage cry is his only answer.

"Wait!" Chedan calls, but Micail's spirit has flown into a darker dreamland, and though Chedan is mage, and great in power, he dares not follow.

"This is why you have failed to find him."

Chedan turns but sees only the glowing ring of stones.

"He will not recognize you. Though he needs your counsel as never before, you can no longer guide him. Least of all here! He believes you are dead. He fears you bear a message that he does not wish to receive. But it does not mattera"the test is for Micail. By his own deeds, he must endure or fall. You cannot prevent him from fulfilling his fate."

"Who are you?" Chedan sings, commanding. "Reveal thy truth!"

"Alas, I cannot be revealed to one who will not see. When you can see," the voice murmurs, "you shall. But men are never so entangled in the past as when they glimpse the future . . ." The voice becomes a hurricane, hurling him head over heels away from the ring of stones.

"Go back, Chedan," the voice commands. "When the time comes for you to pass on your legacy, the way will open. You will not wonder who or when or whya"you will know. But until thena"go back. Complete the work that you must do."

Chedan woke sweating in his rough blankets, his mind still reeling from images of standing stones dancing wildly, whirling away in the mist.