Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Path: netcom.com!netcomsv!decwrl!elroy.jpl.nasa.gov!usc!sol.ctr.columbia.edu!news.kei.com!ssd.intel.com!chnews!ornews.intel.com!ibeam!hutch From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: [OFFER] (Godcaller/Death) Message-ID: Organization: The Aussie-Oregon Connection References: Date: Tue, 24 Aug 1993 15:36:00 GMT Lines: 323 [ADMIN] (Posted for Penny by Steve Hutchison because of brain rot on agora.) This post was written 60% by Andrea Evans and the rest by me. Previously: ar'Elya has invited Kadrys to her private resting place and has asked his help in putting together a child. He has just finished a meditative exercise with Leah ... He gave himself to the sensation of floating, until his eyes recovered. Floating. But then the soothing sound of water began to whisper to him, rising so gradually he could never have said when he first heard it. He opened his eyes, and found that again the surroundings had changed. He was still floating, but in water instead of in midair. This time, the castle had totally vanished. He was in the open, looking up at a clear blue sky, laced with high feathers of cloud. A warm, bright day. And he felt no pain at all, only gentle warmth from the sunlight on his skin. All around him, a lavish garden waited in peace, the grass as rich as any lawn, studded with tiny white stars of blossom. In the distance, he could hear the poignant sweetness of elvensong, woodelves singing hymns to the forest gods. The elegant fronds of willowtrees rustled faintly, draped themselves toward the wide rocky pool that held him. The water was delightfully warm, bubbling slightly. He dropped his face into the surface, staring down to where the spring emerged from a cleft in the rocky depths far below, geothermal heat rising to the surface in streams of near-invisible turbulence. He raised his head, blinked the water out of his eyes. She was there, standing in the willow's dappled shade. A face that shared the gentle, age-old peace of the garden. A body hidden beneath the severe white and grey of a priest. He kicked out of his relaxed floating, finding his depth and standing, looking across the steaming water toward her. Watching her. She looked at him for a long while, in sad silence. Just before that silence became uncomfortable, she sighed, and spoke. "What is here that disturbs you so? I have not made Leah's mistake, I have not restrained you in any way. You are free to do as you will." He nodded, relaxed imperceptibly. "I apologise. You are right, I should not fear." Her sorrowful look was not diminished by his words. "You hungered for Ale at once. You were willing to fight for Aree. You feared Leah at first but when fear died, desire quickly took its place. But I sense no desire for me." A sigh, the slightest weary sag of his shoulders. The shadows of ancient agony in his eyes. "If mages have often made me suffer, then priests have almost always brought me nothing but death. The nature of the particular Cause they serve, good or evil, has never mattered. The evil ones want to kill my true self, complete the curse's work in me, make me into a monster. The good ones just want to kill me, because I am accursed." A brief, harsh laugh. "Even the druids would kill me because I am outside the cycles of their natural world. ...Yes, I do not find it easy to love priests." A long pause, the bitterness in his eyes softening. "With one exception. 'Raelf would have told you of her." A slow nod. "Yes, I know of her." She moved toward him, circling the edge of the pool, sinking with practised grace to her knees in the thick grass at the water's edge beside him. "We knew that this aspect would be the hardest of all for you to be able to accept. We also would be the last to deny any of the pain, outrage and injustice you have been subjected to by those who share our ...my calling. It would be impossible for me to make you any sort of recompense. But perhaps a small bit of knowledge will help you understand." "'Raelf has been able to tell you much about your affliction, but his knowledge is limited," Her lips thinned into a smile, and she added, "little as he would like to admit it. You see, I am much, much older than ar'Elya. I have been part of her mother, and of her mother's mother. I have had much time to seek out ancient wisdoms. Now, I realise I look like everyone's nightmare of a teacher, so I shan't bore you with anything not directly affecting you." El'n reached out and took Kadrys' strong hand in her own work-roughened one, and stroked it gently as she continued. "Long, long ago, longer ago than you can imagine..." Kadys gave her a sudden teasing grin, "I don't know, I can imagine a hell of a lot..." El'n returned the grin, "Exactly! _Very_ long ago, it is written, all creation was new, and such lesser intermediaries as gods were not needed, for the True Powers and the beings they created were able to commune directly with one another. All things created and given by the True Powers were good. These are termed Gifts, and all we know of pleasure and happiness descend from them. She sighed. "As I said, this was near the dawn of time. And it is not known exactly how, but Evil entered into Creation. Whether from outside, or from within, none of the sources can agree. Creation became mortal, and communication with the Powers was broken. Much knowledge was lost. In the resultant turmoil, gods and demons arose and fed off mortals' confusion and fear. "Sometime later, there remained a caste of ruling warrior-priests who still obeyed the True Powers. These rulers saw how the passage of power tore apart other nations and feared for their own. These priests beseeched the True Powers to save them from this fate. The Powers heard and granted them one last gift, the Gift of the Blood. At first this Gift was used sparingly and wisely, with the guidance of the Powers always sought first. Only those who had much to give the people were Gifted, and when whatever they had to offer was no longer necessary, they willingly went to their final death. You see, the Gift was not for the most powerful, or the best or the brightest, but given to those who best served others." "But this was no longer the perfect Golden Age of the past. Sadly, inevitably, the Gift of the Blood, like all Gifts, was eventually corrupted by those it was given to. Little by little, given without consultation of the Powers, given to personal favorites, love-gifted, bought, stolen and eventually used as a weapon. In the end, in all the worlds there was not a single soul remaining who remembered a time when things had been different, when the soulbond had been a lacework in white light, a cradle woven from the True Powers' love, rather than a net of thorns and darkness, a prison of pain and demonic hate. The Gift had been corrupted beyond hope of repair, not even by the Powers themselves. It had become the Curse you know all too well. "So in the deepest sense, those who have persecuted you know not at all what they do. Evil almost always looks for more tools to add to its power, Good is not always wise, and the Druids do not perfectly understand Nature. There is only natural and super-natural; there is no un-nature. "Remember this too, that for all they sought to do to you, the Priests have never fully triumphed over you. Death, yes, but never the oblivion they sought for you. You are still here, while they and many of the gods they served are dust, and less than dust. They could not keep you from friends that loved and served you well, could not keep you from the joys and the sorrows that all existence shares. They could not even destroy your love. Yes, you are separated, but not sundered. Despite all their efforts, they could not obliterate what Gift remained in your Curse." El'n patted his hand and rose, smiling almost mischievously. "Not many priests would admit to this, but there are many, many orders that celebrate the Gift of Sexuality in its uncorrupted form. My studies were not all dry and dusty, I assure you. I do believe that this knowledge is best shared in my other guise." She gave a small shiver, and shedding age like a garment, she Shifted into the young assistant that almost always followed El'n. Kadrys had always thought of her as a colorless young thing, until she lifted her hood away from her face. He was shocked enough to lose his grip and sank suddenly into the pool. Sputtering, he regained his hold onto the sides and shook his hair out of her eyes just in time to see her begin to dance. Slowly at first, swaying to the eerie elven melody floating out from the forest, her bare feet peeked in and out from under the hem of her severe robes. She raised her hands to the sky, long sleeves falling away to reveal curved, beseeching arms. Her head fell back and heavy waves of nut-brown hair cascaded from her shoulders. As she moved, the stiff robes, too, began to yield and even to part, here revealing a hint of thigh, there, a curve of hip. Austerity and authority began to ebb, displaying a lush sensuality and pliant submissiveness to desire so true that Kadrys couldn't help but respond to it. Movement and sound melded into the urgent beating of hearts and throbbing of veins. Love joining, parting, yearning, healing. Desire as Gift. Without warning, El'n stood still, her robes whipping about her until they, too, were stilled. Kadrys started, surprised to find himself breathing heavily. He held out his hand towards her, and she accepted it, stepping down into the pool. Her robes dissolved as easily as a dream, fully revealing what had only been hinted at. They gazed at each other solemnly, then as one both smiled at one another and joined, the first kiss gentle, the next of excited exploration. Her arms encircled his neck as he kicked out from the edge, and they floated, adrift, their movements full of the languor of the warmth, the unstoppable surge and flow of the water. The poignant sound of the elven music was joined by her blissful sighs, the moan deep in his chest as he drank reverently of the sacred wine of her blood. Her eyes shone like the polished heart of a redwood tree... Ahh, it was hard, the gift she asked of him. And yet, he gave it, without regret. ...The first time he had died. While on quest with Imariye' he had been caught in an earthquake, trapped alone in a cavern sealed by the fallen stone, waiting to be rescued, or to die of thirst. And then, he had seen a woman in the distance. At first he had thought himself saved. Then he saw her hair, flame-red instead of Imariye's honey brown. Clad not in robes but tattered burial garments. He shot her through the heart. His aim had not failed him, but she wrenched the steel bolt from her body and dropped it, after licking the blood off with animal thoroughness. Terror swept in an icy wave into his guts, clutched his heart in its cruel grip, whipped its beat to a gallop. She leaped like a tiger, clapped one hand to his mouth before he could pray, the other clamping itself to his head, wrenching open his eyelids, turning his head and forcing him to look into her eyes. The volition poured away from his limbs like his cold sweat, and he stood, outwardly silent and still, but with the terror of death screaming in his mind. She stripped the pack and weapons and clothing from him, like a cat plucking feathers from its kill. But in the next moment, her hunger was replaced by a more speculative look. Her yellow- green eyes met his with cold appreciation, and she nodded. Then her pupils dilated, and she seized his mind as brutally as she had seized his body, knew the ache of his fear and revelled in it, laughing at him, the sound ringing maddeningly in his ears as she pawed at him, moved close to lick at his throat with a cool, dry tongue. And then, silently, she spoke into his mind. "You have the most astonishing eyes, mortal. Never have I seen or heard of human eyes so black. What a waste it would be to have those eyes rot in death." Hope leaped in him. "Then you'll release me?" Hellish laughter flayed every corner of his brain. "Weren't you listening? If I release you, you'll just wither and die in a while, like all the rest of your worthless kind. Ahh no... You'll be perfect, thief. As if you were born for this." The laughter trailed away, and she snapped, "And besides, I thirst. I had thought, when first I scented your blood, that I had simply found a meal. Now I want more from you than your blood, your brief mortal life. I want _you_, body and mind, will and soul..." Genuine puzzlement from her at the torrent of pleading, the frantic grief and terror that poured from him. "What is this? Is not death what mortals fear most? Then why do you fear? You will live forever..." She broke into his memories, wrenched open his closest, deepest secrets. Finally she found, buried behind his screaming need to live, his memories of Imariye', the ache of his longing to be reunited with her, even the silent wish that, if the reunion could not come in life, at least they would be together after death. Poisonous scorn poured into his mind, searing it like acid. "Forget that simpering bitch! For she will certainly forget you. Did you actually expect Her Holiness to marry _you_, gutter thief?" Then, the power of her gaze intensified, her eyes bathing his mind in flame. Though the silent screaming inside his skull did not abate, he could feel his body responding to the inhuman lust she emanated, the hunger she poured into him. And then she pushed him to the ground, stood over him, leering like a demon. "You'd like an arrow, a torch, anything to impale me, wouldn't you? Well, you'll have to settle for this..." Suddenly she dropped astride him, claws gouging into his shoulders as she fed her savagery into him, forced his body to respond. It was rape, mental as much as physical, the way she plundered his mind, wrenched the last vestige of his bodily control from him, used him like a toy, rode him like a horse. Inside, he wailed in ultimate helplessness, no way to avoid the sensations that ruled his flesh. At last he was arched beneath her like a bow, heels and scalp grinding against the stone, head thrown back as the lust roared in him like a blaze of hellfire, building to explosion. As the groan escaped his mouth, she lunged, snake-fast, sinking her fangs deep into the veins that throbbed in his bared throat. Before that moment, he had been at what he thought was the height of pleasure. But that savage bite, the gush of his lifeblood pulsing past those cruel daggers, took him from that plateau still farther into the heights, thrust him into a realm of sensation as far beyond mere carnality, as that had surpassed normal existence. But after a timeless interval, even that indescribable sensation slowly diminished. He returned to a sense of terrible, bone-deep weariness, his chest heaving for breath, against his weakness and against her weight. Tired. So very tired. So tired that the pleasure, yes, even the terror was fading, sinking away from him. The numbness, the weariness, physical and mental, growing, slowly, steadily. So faint, his own mental voice. 'Dying... I'm dying...' Even that knowledge failed to touch him somehow. 'Ahhno... Lady take me...' It had been so hard to retrieve the memory of even that brief prayer. The prayer _she_ had taught him. A last sigh of quiet yearning. 'Imariye'...' And he slipped away, into the final night. ...He began to draw away, but El'n wanted what had come afterwards. This was harder still. But he complied, giving her the poignancy, the sorrow and consolation of his meeting with Imariye' as her spirit reached out to him from her dreams. The exaltation of feeling the Lady's power touch his spirit, call him higher. And the shock when the Curse had seized him in its unbreakable snare, had dragged him back to the mortal world. Back to his corpse. The black depths of despair when he had arisen, clad in undead flesh. The grief at the knowledge that he was lost, damned eternally. That he could never see his beloved again, not in life, certainly not after death. No. _That_, he could not bear. Come what may, he _would_ see her, if only to say farewell. And he had found her. The others had mistrusted him, called on Imariye' to destroy him. To prove himself, he held Imariye's crystal star, the Lady's symbol. He should never have been able to even touch it. Though it had felt as if it was burning him to the bone, he had endured the pain, and when he had opened his hand, it had been free of the scars that should have been there. And by that sign he was accepted back among his friends. Back with Imariye'. He realised later that the sacred blaze had burned away his bondage to the other vampire, made him whole and free of any trace of her influence. He never saw or heard from her again. The agony he had felt at the moment that bond had been severed, must have convinced her that he had been destroyed by the Goddess' power. ...In remembering with El'n, Kadrys was gently reminded of many things: that there had been at least as much mercy as cruelty in his searing exposure to the Lady's power; that despite his Curse, he _had_ been reunited with his beloved, both in life, and even briefly after death, through the love of his friends. She helped him to recall that he had been blessed throughout his long existence, as well as accursed. - They surfaced from his mind, from their shared pleasure, slipping through the warm water toward the pool's edge. She laid a gently restraining hand on his arm, rose out of the water, bent to give him a final, lingering kiss, before walking away, vanishing between the willows. [ADMIN] This article and all characters are copyright 1993 by Andrea Evans and Penny Hutchison.