Lord of the Dark (21 page)

The hideous laughter came and went like ocean waves, mingled with Rhiannon’s hysterical shrieks, for the elvers were wriggling up her naked legs to her thighs, and her terror was palpable as they approached her pubic mound.

“Gideon,
please
! Call back the feather, I beg you!” she shrilled, burying her face in his shoulder as she clung to him, her rigid fingers digging into his muscles through the eel-skin suit.

Lifting off, Gideon soared upward, shaking the demon’s glamour free. One by one, the eels fell away, and he heaved a ragged sigh. “Ravelle has dominion over the land in his domain, but I have dominion over the sky wherever my wings take me. Let me show you….” Twining her legs around his waist, he plunged into her in flight. “Creatures in the astral mate thus,” he murmured in her ear, taking her deeper. “Hold on to me and you will know pleasures you never dreamed existed…. You will know what it is to be taken by the wind….”

Gideon had longed to take her in flight since he’d first set eyes upon her in his pool; it was his most secret fantasy, but he’d dared not risk it with the watchers hovering. Seizing her buttocks, he drove into her, gliding on her juices, moving in and out of her folds one by one in excruciatingly slow increments, feeding upon her pleasure moans as they glided on zephyrs in the starlit darkness high above the ugly forest floor.

Like peeling back the petals from a rose, he entered her slowly, savoring each delicious layer, moving on to the next, leaving no velvety mystery unexplored, no hot, silky crevice unprobed. He was Lord of the Air, and she had made him so, for she clung to him, her hands clasped around his neck, in total abandon.

Gideon soared higher, creating the wind that tortured his feathers. “Hold tight! I won’t let you fall….” he panted. Letting go of her buttocks, he slid his hands along her curves until they cupped her breasts. The nipples had hardened like steel against his thumbs as they strummed the dark puckered buds.

Groaning, Rhiannon tightened her grip on his waist with her legs and arched her back, pulling his head down until his lips closed over one turgid nubbin and tugged, sucking deeply. Bewitched by the sultry moans leaking from her throat as he suckled, his skilled fingers pinched and rubbed and scraped against the other bud until she cried out for mercy, calling his name.

Darkness enveloped them like a glove, as he soared higher still, creating more wind to whip through his feathers, making him harder, bringing him to the brink of rapture unlike any he had ever known. He could feel her come—feel the orgasmic contractions—the hot juices of her release as they laved his aching cock, and he wanted it to go on forever.

Convulsed in an unstoppable frenzy of carnal oblivion, he brought her to the brink again, undulating against her, grinding the root of his shaft into her clitoris as he hammered into her again and again, finding the secret place at the seat of her sex that riddled her with drenching fire. He could feel the scorching heat of that fire as her hips lurched forward, and her deep folds gripped him relentlessly. He could hold back no longer, and crushing her close, he rotated his hips spiraling into her, a deep-throated moan escaping his parched lungs.

“Hold tight, my love,” he murmured. “I will take you to heights you’ve never imagined.”

He hadn’t broken his stride, hadn’t changed the friction as he spiraled into her, keeping her just at the edge of climax. Soaring higher still, he felt her posture clench around his rigid cock, felt it grip him on the verge of coming. It was time.

High above the clouds, he paused in flight and, in a split second, dove downward at a heart-stopping speed, while filling her with his sex from root to ridged mushroom tip. Riding the wind, he clasped her fast as he pounded into her streaking through the air in a spiraling tailspin, fueled by her rapturous moans. Her climax riddled him like cannon fire, triggering his own release. It was as if his bones were melting as she milked him dry, the soft, hot walls of her vagina squeezing out every last drop of his come until it overflowed, as they soared down, down through the dark night sky, joined to the soul.

Gideon pulled out of the spin just short of touching down, and found her lips in a fiery kiss as they hovered above the thicket. “You have seduced the wind, my love, and it has loved you well,” he murmured, when their lips parted. “I have longed to take you thus since first we met, to come inside you in the air—
my
air, for I am lord of it. It is the greatest gift that I could give you.”

Ravelle’s laughter came again, hideous and cold. “How touching,” the satyr said. “Enjoy her while you may. Soon, she is mine to enjoy, dark one, just like that pitiable centaur’s mate was once mine also.”

Rhiannon began to tremble in Gideon’s arms, and he soothed her gently. Beneath them, the mist had begun to dissipate, giving glimpses of the ground crawling with elvers.

“Don’t put me down!” she cried, her pinching fingers digging into his neck. “The eels…they are
everywhere
!”

Ravelle’s laughter echoed through the twisted trees. It rumbled through the shadow-steeped undergrowth alive with crawling elvers in the inky midnight darkness. “The feather…” Rhiannon reminded him. “Gideon, I beg you, please…call back the feather…Take me away from here!”

“Do not listen to him,” Gideon soothed. “He makes a clever demonstration, but he is not here in the flesh. Do not let his evil glamour spoil what we have just shared. Mine is the greatest power…even here.”

“If that is so, why do you hesitate?” she cried. “You cannot be having second thoughts about joining with him?”

That was the farthest thing from Gideon’s mind, but how could he confide his real fears—that the watchers would kill her if he took her back? Wasn’t that what they had in mind when they banished her to Outer Darkness? She had no idea of the danger she was in, or how close she had already come to death.

Gideon soothed her with gentle hands. “Of course not!” he said. “That was never an option. I wanted to prepare, to form some sort of plan before we go. There is great danger in returning, you know that.”

“There is greater danger here. You know what he meant to do with me. He wanted me to convince you to join forces with him here, and I was to be consort to you both! I won’t stand his hands on me again. I’d rather be dead!”

Gideon’s posture clenched, airborne though he was. “You said you hadn’t been harmed,” he reminded her, searching her eyes deeply.

“I wasn’t ‘harmed’ in the way you mean,” she returned, “but he put his hands on me—examined me to see if you had taken me…”

Gideon’s mind was racing. Rage set the muscles along his rigid jaw ticking. There was nothing for it. Though he was hesitant for fear of wasting the feathers, for he had no idea what lay ahead, she was right, he had to call one back.

“Hold on to me,” he said through clenched teeth. Closing his eyes, he called Lavilia with his mind, begging back the feather that would return them to Arcus.

The mantra was scarcely chanted when the disembodied demon laughter came again. All at once, the mist was gone and firm ground as far as the eye could see had become a writhing sea of elvers, eels, and snakes.

Rhiannon screamed as the squirming landscape undulated closer, and Gideon flew higher. “Why doesn’t the rune caster answer?” she cried. “Didn’t she hear your call? Suppose she doesn’t respond! Such creatures as she should never be trusted, even I know that!”

Gideon smiled, folding her closer in his arms as he hovered above the ground that was still crawling with reptiles. “Look!” he said, pointing upward, where a single white feather was drifting down.

“Do you have to catch it?” Rhiannon asked.

“It will return to me, watch, but the minute I touch it we will be out of here and I have no idea where we will find ourselves, so steel yourself and look sharp. Be alert for watchers. My wings will protect you, but you must hold fast to me, Rhiannon, no matter what occurs. If you should fall and I am struck…well, I think you see what I’m trying to tell you.”

The feather drifted lower, and a familiar voice echoed across his mind.
Look sharp
, it said.
Watchers abound. You have not been gone long enough
.
They have not tired of the vigil
.

“Where are you taking us?” Gideon queried.

You won’t like where you’re going,
Lavilia replied.
It is only temporary, but it is what must be for the destiny to play out. You’ll know soon enough, and you have no choice.

“Ye gods, Lavilia! You had a suggestion for me when I was in too much of a hurry to hear it. This is
not
my final question. You owe me this, and it is the second time I’ve begged you…will you tell now what you wanted to tell me then?”

I didn’t have a ‘suggestion,’
Lavilia said.
I had the solution, but you changed all that with your impetuous nature, Lord of the Dark. The window of opportunity has closed upon that avenue for now. I tell you this much for free: When it opens to you again, take it, for it is your last hope, yours and your lady’s….

“Wait!” Gideon shouted, for the feather had nearly drifted into his hand, and the rune caster’s voice had grown distant. “Tell me now! In the name of the gods, do not send me into battle unarmed!”

But the rune caster made no reply. Ravelle’s distant laughter ghosting through the darkness was the only sound as the feather crossed Gideon’s palm.

G
ideon plunged down feetfirst through a barrage of the watcher’s chain lightning into another dark forest, with a whoosh of sighing leaves and clacking branches. An irate murmur buzzed among the trees, awakened so rudely, and Gideon groaned when recognizing his surroundings.

“Where are we?” Rhiannon said, still clinging to him.

“Lavilia was right,” Gideon replied, “we’re in the last place I want to be with Ravelle on the rampage…Marius’s Forest Isle.”

“The lightning…can it reach us here, underneath these trees? I always thought it was dangerous to seek shelter under trees in lightning.”

Gideon shook his head. “No, the watcher’s missiles are not ordinary lightning. They will not harm the Ancient Ones,” he said, “but the minute we step beyond these trees…”

“We can’t stay here…not after what you told me about Marius and Ravelle.”

“Come the dawn, I will perform a little test.”

“What kind of test?”

“I will attempt to leave on my own,” Gideon said. “If I can get through without an attack, we’ll be able to figure a way to go about separately if needs must. I want to have a look at my isle. I’m told it sank into the sea. If there is
anything
left of it that can be rebuilt—”

“Don’t leave me here, Gideon!” Rhiannon cried. “How could you even think to after what happened last time?”

“That won’t happen again,” he assured her. “I don’t mean to go far, just to see if I can get past them without you in tow. If I can’t, then the rules have been changed. We have to know this, Rhiannon. I’m trying to protect you.”

An ancient oak alongside lowered a heavy bough to Gideon’s head almost knocking him over, and Rhiannon stiffened in Gideon’s arms. “I don’t want to stay here!” she cried. “These trees bound me while those evil nymphs had their way with me, while they violated me! I never wanted to set eyes on these trees again. They are evil!”

“Not evil,” Gideon corrected her. “Ancient spirits inhabit these trees. Many forest dwellers have come and gone over time, but the Ancient Ones remain, guardians of this place. They hold no loyalties to humankind, or the fay, or any entity, come to that. Their judgments are for the good of Nature and the forest, and are doled out at their own discretion. We may not always agree, but they are the nobility of the Forest Isle, and we pay homage and give respect. There are stone basins set about throughout the forest for offerings—herbs and flowers, seeds especially, they love those because they symbolize new birth. Such tributes are very prized, and the giver is rewarded in accordance with the gift. The Ancient Ones’ magic is very powerful.”

“Oh, so it was all right for them to bind me while the nymphs abused me because they are old spirits,” Rhiannon snapped.

“No,” Gideon said. “The nymphs evidently gifted them well, and so they did their bidding and bound you. I gave them no tribute when we disturbed their sleep so rudely just now, which is why this stalwart fellow chastised me.”

“You defend them?” she marveled.

“I respect them,” he said. “And they will help us.”

A rustling sound close by made Gideon curb his tongue, and he fell silent, pricking his ears in the direction of the sound. Rhiannon cried out as the great oak alongside seized her with its branches, covering her charms with its lush leaves. After a moment, the foliage parted and Marius appeared, longbow at the ready. Gideon’s posture collapsed, and he bowed to the Lord of the Forest.

“We shan’t stay,” he said. “Ravelle is on our heels. I won’t bring that down upon you. We’ll be gone in the morning.”

“You may stay as long as you like. I told you that before,” Marius said, handing a hooded mantle he had looped over his arm to Rhiannon, who was peeking out from behind a curtain of oak leaves. “I do not fear Ravelle. Our day is coming, his and mine, but it is not yet. Come! You have the stink of Outer Darkness upon you. My bathing pool is at your disposal. Then we shall talk.”

Rustling oak leaves turned them both toward Rhiannon, who was struggling with the mantle Marius had given her, while the great tree petted her with its leaf-laden branches. It seemed to be ordering her hair, while she slapped at the leaves.

A bemused smile creased Marius’s handsome lips. “He means you no harm, lady,” he said. “He only wants you to hide your hair beneath the cowl. We must go into the open to reach my lodge. The watchers are hovering. They will spot that magnificent mane of yours a mile away. He means only to protect you.”

“Yes, well, I can only go by past experiences,” Rhiannon snapped. “The last time I encountered this…creature it was not so inclined.” She whipped her long plait around and stuffed it inside the mantle, then tugged the hood down over her head hiding her face. “There,” she said. “Will this do?”

Marius nodded, as the great tree hugged her with its branches and petted her head as one pets a faithful dog. “He thinks so,” he said, clearly suppressing a chuckle.

Rhiannon halfheartedly stroked the leafy branch caressing her with a cursory pat, wriggled free of the tree’s embrace, and rushed to Gideon’s side.

“No, lady,” Marius said. “You will walk with me. The watchers are no fools, but neither are they possessed of sage wisdom. We confuse them, um?” He turned to Gideon. “Make your test now,” he said. “I will see to your lady. We are right behind you and my bow is at the ready.”

Rhiannon cast a pleading glance in Gideon’s direction, and he returned it with what he hoped was a look of reassurance. “Do as he says,” he said. “You are perfectly safe in Marius’s keeping.”

The look she returned clearly said she wasn’t so safe the last time he’d left her in the forest lord’s care. How he loved her when anger lifted her chin, courting shadows about the dimple set there, and sparks flashed in her doelike eyes. He loved the way color blazed in the apples of her cheeks when such a mood struck her, as if an artist had stroked it on at random. He longed to take her in his arms and lay all her fears to rest, but he dared not then. Instead, he strode into the clearing that stretched between the wood and the rambling lodge at the forefront of the forest lord’s compound.

Marius’s plan was sound, and all three reached the cottage despite the watchers circling overhead. Once inside, the forest lord led them to a rear chamber, past the faun, Sy, who was tethered to the hearthstone performing his chores at the end of a long chain. Pulsating warmth scented with pine tar and rosemary rushed at them, rising from the sunken mineral pool Marius had promised.

“It’s even warmer since Vane’s volcano erupted,” the forest lord explained. “All of the pools in the archipelago are. It happens every time the lava flows.”

“Are the pools still all connected?” Gideon asked.

Marius nodded. “All except yours, of course,” he said. “That sank back into the sea with the Dark Isle, Gideon. I know you were hoping, but you may as well know the Dark Isle no longer exists.”

Gideon nodded. “I assumed as much. Still, I was hoping…”

“There are other options,” Marius said. “Go, refresh yourselves. I will see if I can find a suitable garment for your lady.” He bowed toward Rhiannon and left them, melting into the shadows.

Rhiannon turned to Gideon. “You’re going to leave me here,” she accused. “You heard what Ravelle said. He will follow us, and this is the first place he will look!”

“You make it seem as if I mean to abandon you,” Gideon responded. “My punishment has changed. I need to see how far I can go on my own without dodging lightning bolts before I attempt to take you with me if we are to dupe the watchers. I will not see you put to the hazard because of me, Rhiannon. I would not be able to live with myself if harm came to you and it was my fault.”

“Well, you saw. You made your little test just now, thanks to Marius for suggesting it. So why must you go?”

“I need to consult with the rune caster. I have one feather yet to be redeemed and one question.”

“Accepted. Why can I not go with you?”

Gideon hesitated. Taking Rhiannon with him was not an option considering what happened on his last visit to the rune caster’s isle. He had no idea what payment Lavilia would extract for another consultation now. “You, my love, are a colossal distraction!” he said. “I cannot think clearly with you in my arms. Look at me! I am aroused just imagining it. Besides, I can make better time alone, and in case things have changed more drastically, I will not go about with you openly until I am absolutely certain it is safe.”

“Is that so? Well, look where you’ve taken me!” she snapped back. “I hardly call this place ‘safe,’ where trees take liberties—fondle, restrain, and fornicate—and nymphs seduce and lure those who mean them no harm into danger.
Safe
, indeed! I do not like this place!”

“That, my love, is because you’ve had a bad experience here. Can you not try to put that behind you and trust in me? I know this place for eons, and I would trust Marius with my life—and yours. He is beyond reproach. The nymphs have been banished from the forest, and Sy is now tethered to the chimney corner—just as you saw him when we entered—when Marius is not in residence. I want to see the place where the Dark Isle stood for myself. There is another place I want to see, the Isle of Mists, a long-forgotten spit of land that remained when the Shaman’s Isle fell.”

“And I cannot accompany you while you see these places—places that you hope to share with me?” She spun away haughtily and began to pace.

Gideon reached her in one stride, turned her back to face him, and shook her gently. “No,” he said. “You cannot—not until I’m absolutely certain it is safe for you to do so. I know it is hard for a mortal to understand immortality, but you must try to grasp this, Rhiannon.” He hesitated, waiting while she processed what he was saying, her brows knit in a frown. “The watchers’ lightning bolts hurt me, they weaken and daze me for a time, but they cannot kill me because I am
immortal,
you are
not.
To them, you are expendable. To punish me, they would think nothing of ending your life. They nearly did when they banished you to Outer Darkness. You were not supposed to come back from that alive, as a punishment for
me.
If one of their lightning bolts were to strike you it could
kill
you, and certainly would if it hit a vital spot. I do not want to frighten you, and I cannot make it any plainer. I can only do so much to prevent such a tragedy in the air. You must respect my judgment in this…for both our sakes.”

Rhiannon stared, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears in the torchlight flickering about the pool. Gideon almost winced. He hated the stricken look of her then. She looked like a wounded doe, and he was the one who had struck the blow that brought her down. He had avoided bringing up the issue of immortality, though it nagged him under the surface every waking hour and sullied his dreams. He had avoided it, because he had no answer for it. That was one of the things he wanted to take up with Lavilia, and another reason why he could not take Rhiannon with him. Considering his curse, which was immutable in view of his station and the gravity of his offense, it did not bode well for a happy outcome.

He would give up his immortality in a heartbeat for Rhiannon; there was no question, if only the curse would allow it, but his sentence was eternal, and he knew of no way for her to achieve immortality, though it had happened for others. It had happened for Simeon, Lord of the Deep, and his Megaleen, but those were extraordinary circumstances, and he had none to offer her. Still…if he were to speak with Simeon, perhaps his old friend might have some glimmer of hope to impart. As it was, they were fugitives, and would be as long as they lived where watchers could chastise them.

If only Rhiannon wouldn’t look at him like that. If only those tears would dry and she would smile at him again. How he missed that smile. He hadn’t seen it in some time…a very long time. There was no hope of that smile coming now to erase her sorrow and cause dawn to break over his soul. Instead, tears swam in those doe eyes. One spilled over onto her reddened cheek rolling off her lower lashes, and he groaned, folding her in his arms. He felt as if he were drowning in that tear.

It was no use. His wings unfurled halfway, his hot hardness leaned against her belly challenging the seam in his eel-skin suit and he was undone. There was no question. She finally understood.

When she tore herself out of his arms, she rent a tear in his heart as well. He could have sworn he heard it rip. “Rhiannon, wait!” he called, bolting after her as she burst back through the door to the lodge cottage proper.

“Leave me be a while,” she sobbed from the threshold. “Don’t worry…I shan’t go far. It works both ways. Like yourself, I just need to go off on my own for a bit….”

He was about to follow after her in any case, when his field of vision shifted to Marius coming into the main room of the lodge with a frock looped over his arm. Their eyes met. The forest lord’s gaze told him it was safe to let her go. Both he and Rhiannon needed time apart to order their thoughts, and after an agonizing hesitation, Gideon stepped back into the pool chamber and closed the door.

No sooner had the latch clicked, when the water in the pool began to roil and bubble until the surface churned with white water. From the center of the vortex being created, a man emerged, rivulets of water sliding down his eel-skin suit similar to Gideon’s. His handsome face, all angles and planes, bathed in mineral water shone in the torchlight, as did his long hair, bound with ropes of braided seaweed.