Birthing Ella Bandita (8 page)

He used to watch them when they came to the valley seven years before. When he first heard the rumble of their horses, he thought another posse had gathered to hunt him down. This was a common occurrence after his conquests, and he had recently claimed the daughter of a neighboring patron. The Sorcerer smiled as he recalled how beautiful she had been with her fair hair and luminous skin. Yet she was utterly ridiculous, fancying herself in love with the essence he used to seduce her. The Sorcerer had chosen a green, a playwright of lyrical romances, because she dreamed of performing on stage. Although she was engaged, the maiden couldn’t resist the temptation to realize her fantasy, acting out one of the young man’s more scandalous plays to its climax when the leading lady surrendered to the call of the flesh. After the seduction had reached its consummation, the specter collapsed. When the maiden woke up to the reality of what she’d done, the Sorcerer claimed the payment of her heart.

That conquest had left him in an irritation of malcontent that persisted for weeks. These girls were all alike, always seduced through their vanity. They were more than willing to disgrace their families and sell their hearts just to gratify a fleeting illusion. If he didn’t need them for his immortality, he wouldn’t bother with the little fools. So on the day he heard the resounding gallop of horses halt at the river before the Ancient Grove, the Sorcerer shook his head in disgust. With the spell he used to safeguard his Caverns, the humiliated fianc_ and dishonored father were absurd if they believed they could find him. Nonetheless, he poured the liquid cloud to watch them become lost in the trees.

Then he cast his mind, surprised to see the Patron’s daughter. The girl had changed much since he last saw her. She wasn’t a woman yet, but she was no child either. He’d never seen her escort before. He was handsome, but the patches holding his pants together showed he was not her equal. The Sorcerer found him interesting. The young man had to work for her father, but he lacked the downcast humility of servants. There was a devil-may-care gleam in his eyes, even when he shuddered and peered into the dark trees.

“I see your point, little Miss. This place doesn’t feel too good.”

“I told you,” she said. “Can we go now?”

“Let’s head north a bit first. If it gets no better, I promise you we’ll leave. Okay?”

The girl frowned, gazing in the direction he pointed where the trees stood half as tall as those before her. With long skirts flowing down the flank of her horse, she looked like the proper young lady she was born to be. It was incredible she was even here. The Abandoned Valley and Ancient Grove were forbidden and her father was known for being strict. There was fear in the girl’s eyes, but she still nodded her agreement.

Her escort had sharp instincts. The northwest end of the Valley edged the woods of No Man’s Land, and the border separated them from the country to the west. The Sorcerer had no power there beyond second sight and the distance was enough to put the girl and the strange young man at ease. They stayed for the rest of the afternoon.

The Sorcerer was intrigued with what he saw. The pair returned most days that summer, riding through his domain in haste to the northwest side of the Abandoned Valley where the light was softer, the trees shorter and the air filled with the music of birds. The Sorcerer watched over them every time they came. He learned the young man had been a wanderer who adventured in the most exotic reaches of the world, stowing away on a ship only to return to the country of his birth. Like all vagabonds when they finally came home, he was met with suspicion wherever he went until he convinced the Patron to hire him to train the gray colt he always rode.

The girl had never interested him before with her homely face and sullen demeanor. But the Sorcerer changed his mind watching her blossom in the Trainer’s company. Each day, the adventurer regaled her with jokes and outrageous stories. With her solemn nature, she scowled at him often. But one day, she finally grinned and soon afterwards, started to smile. The girl burst into her first giggle towards the end of spring. She looked startled at the sound, hiding her mouth with her hands. By mid summer, she broke apart into peals of laughter, throwing her head back just like the Trainer did.

The Sorcerer found her metamorphosis absolutely compelling. A girl finally learning about the spirit of play as her childhood came to an end. But it was her awakening to passion that the Sorcerer couldn’t resist. The longing in her eyes when she looked at the handsome Trainer was astonishing in one so young. He was certain the Trainer had to be aware of her feelings, but he treated the girl with the teasing affection of an older brother. The Sorcerer was mystified by such restraint, for that girl would make a most satisfying conquest. He would have given anything to have an essence in his collection that would tempt her.

Then the day came when the Trainer lost his shirt. It was the hottest afternoon of the summer, the light wind making the heat worse. As the pair raced their mounts, the scorching air made a second skin of their clothes. Rough with nubs and irritating to the flesh, the Trainer scratched and pulled at the blouse glued to his trunk. He tore off the offensive garment and tucked it under the saddle flap, chuckling as the girl blushed and averted her eyes.

“I’ll race you again to the other side!” he shouted. “And this time I’ll win!”

The Trainer kicked the flanks of the colt before she could react and emerged the victor of that lap as promised. But he didn’t notice the smock coming free from the saddle and floating along the breeze before sinking into the long grass. He noticed it missing an hour later. But they were in a rush to get back to the manor. The Trainer donned another he had in his rucksack and left behind a shirt drenched in his sweat.

The Sorcerer couldn’t believe his fortune. He waited until nightfall before he ventured beyond his domain to get the precious garment. He’d been tempted to boil it down many times over the years, but he resisted until he could finally claim the girl. The result could have been a catastrophe. He had never witnessed anything other than brotherly affection in the Trainer. If that were the true measure of his sentiment, the Sorcerer would feel no desire when he took on that essence. But his concerns were needless. When he stepped out of the mist to meet the girl grown into a woman, he saw her through the Trainer’s eyes. Through the Trainer’s flesh, he responded, yet also through his heart. When the girl burst into tears, the Sorcerer marveled at how natural it was to be tender with her.

So the Trainer did have that feeling for the girl, even when she was young.

His original intention had been to mold her into the perfect concubine, but the Sorcerer was surprised at the pleasure he took in mentoring her. The girl had the most intense focus he’d ever seen. And she was intelligent, with a gift for asking the right questions. The Sorcerer couldn’t resist such a pupil. As the months passed, he gave her far more knowledge than he meant to, going beyond the ancient texts on carnal arts. In the past few days, he struggled to find new lessons and realized he’d taught her everything he knew. But he couldn’t regret that decision. Once the years of civilized denial shed from her, unveiled was an animal magnetism that was unusual for women. Her features were as savage as ever, but the ugliness now suited the girl and made her presence devastating. When she strode into his Caverns with the strut of an outlaw, the Sorcerer was overwhelmed with pride for his creation. She was a masterpiece.

Then there was their coupling. He never experienced anything quite like her. From the first night, she plunged into the realm of fantasy with an abandon that was breathtaking. And the pleasure that was already exquisite became indescribable when the girl showed initiative and nurtured her unique expression in the subtleties of physical love. This was the only time a seduction borne from illusion became passion that pulsed with a life of its own. The Sorcerer cherished this chance to forget who and what he was, succumbing to the allure of being a man taking possession of his woman, only to want her more after his craving was satisfied. No conquest ever had this effect on him.

It was dangerous to don the essence of another man.

The morning the Sorcerer saw how little was left of the ruby liquid, a melancholic stupor weighed on his limbs when he slid that vial back in the rack and chose a deep green. He would never feel that way again once the Trainer was used up. Yet the Sorcerer prepared his lesson with the object of introducing another lover, hoping he hadn’t waited too long.

Then his prot_g_e was late. By the time he heard the near silent footfall on the stairs, he was nearly convinced she wasn’t coming. There was no relief to his unease when he saw her. The girl was different tonight. She was almost beautiful with her cheeks flushed and her eyes glimmering. And the Sorcerer sensed a current running through her, so strong the air around the girl was palpating. She was excited about something. But the cause of her excitement had nothing to do with him or the Trainer’s essence.

But she settled into the sofa as always, and the Sorcerer pulled the tapestry. The subject was one he’d already taught about positions for the body that would pleasure the woman no matter the skill of her lover. He planned to segue in the middle and introduce the need for a seductress to know many men, but the girl noticed immediately. She folded her arms and frowned, tapping her foot until he was distracted from talking.

“You spoke about this a couple of months ago,” she said. “Don’t you remember?”

“Of course I do, but this lesson has another conclusion.”

She cocked one brow and smirked.

“I’m familiar with these positions as you know, so why don’t you conclude now?”

Startled, the Sorcerer couldn’t think of anything to say. He felt awkward pulling the vial from his pocket, but disguised his uncertainty with flair, sweeping the essence to the torch where the vial glowed emerald in the light of fire. The richness of the color lent him a moment of optimism. Perhaps this would be another form of ardor.

“This came from a man celebrated for his poetry when he was alive,” he said.

The girl raised her brows, yet remained quiet.

“He was tormented as I recall, but very passionate. He was also handsome and revered the feminine mystique. I think you’ll be pleased with him.”

“Why should I be?”

“I admit I should have mentioned this some time ago. But a seductress is wise to have many lovers.”

“I don’t think so.”

“This is part of our agreement,” he countered. “You are more than ready to-”

“You have nothing left to teach me, do you?”

Her question caught him unawares. But she was right. So exhilarated he’d been with his gifted student, he’d lost sight of his plan, teaching her in six months what he meant to pass on over many years. The girl leaned back in the blood red velvet of the golden sofa, her wide mouth curved in a closed smile and the Sorcerer cursed himself a fool. She was perfectly still, but he could sense that restlessness, which hadn’t been in her the previous night.

“Sorcerer,” she said. “Have I pleasured you more than any woman ever has?”

“You have pleased me greatly as you promised,” he said. “But I wouldn’t go so far as to say that.”

“I don’t believe you,” she said, without a hint of arrogance in her voice.

The Sorcerer was impressed. This was the mark of true self-possession. A swell of pride rose up. His prot_g_e had mastered the soul of seduction, but he was loath to admit that.

“Your disbelief isn’t enough,” he said. “You must prove that beyond any doubt and…”

He extended the poet’s essence. In response, she waved the vial away.

“Have you exhausted the Trainer?”

“Not yet.”

The Sorcerer went to his collection, lifting the vial with a few drops left. He turned and saw the girl standing behind him. She took the essence from him and held it to the nearest torch. Her sinewy neck curved as she looked up, tears glistening in her eyes at the scant ruby liquid, swirling all she had left of the Trainer.

“This is the last night I come to you,” she whispered, her voice husky.

The Sorcerer had the urge to reach for her, but he restrained himself, knowing the girl would only recoil. He summoned the shadow servants, but it was the girl who emptied the last drops from the vial into the cauldron. The mist rose from the brew and the Sorcerer muttered the spell that would transform him into a man of feeling, his senses coming alive with each step he took. He thought he would burst when the fog dissipated and he saw his lover waiting for him.

Once they joined together, they never came apart. He clutched her with a desperation that frightened him, burying his face into the crevices of her flesh. He breathed in her scent so that he could take a piece of her with him once he ceased to be, evaporated into nothing like the Phantom that he was. Each time he felt the quiver of release, he held on. If he never let go, perhaps the night would go on for eternity.

But she was relentless. Her lips curled into a snarl, cold blue eyes glittering, she urged his body to betray him and give her what she wanted. His ecstasy would bring her freedom, and all he could think was that this was the last time…the last time she would be his.

He gazed up the tunnel and saw the gateway to the Caverns stood open. He had forgotten to close the boulder. If he’d remembered, she would never be able to leave him. But she wouldn’t look at him with hunger as she did right now, the sadness of farewell in her eyes. The Phantom could hold back no longer, so near as he was to the edge of the cataclysm. He’d held back long enough that pleasure had become pain, delicious when he finally gave in, the howl quaking his being from inside out when his lover forced him to surrender. Her moans echoed through the chamber and consumed him. His last peak was the most violent he’d ever known, wrenching his grief and shattering something inside.

Suddenly the girl gasped and fell on him in a faint.

The Sorcerer knew something was wrong when he felt the decrepitude in his bones. Somehow, he was no longer virile and young. But when he saw the girl’s essence lift from her, he realized what she had done. Her body collapsed, but her essence reached inside him to claim the Trainer’s. There was nothing he could do to stop her. The Sorcerer was too weak. He was falling and the precious essence was floating away. The Trainer rose with his lover who was setting him free.