WOLF DAWN: Science Fiction Thriller/ Romance (Forsaken Worlds) (41 page)

He would
die
if he didn’t.

There was a kind of mindlessness now, a thin thread of control as instinct took over. Such pleasure, such joy, it was glorious. Ash moved, building toward something overwhelming and inevitable. Lindha contributed, she had found his rhythm, joined in it, arching and rising to meet him. A kaleidoscope of sensations assailed them both, a maelstrom of pleasure coming in waves. Overflowing, uncontainable, Ash and Lindha were reaching toward a crest.

They were
so close.

Lightning struck them.

Together they bucked and screamed out their release. They held on to each other, clutching and straining together as if in a storm far out at sea. Holding on for dear life, their bodies joined, as wave after wave of sensation rode them. With ragged breath they clung to each other. They left the world together, floating away upon the heated ocean of his power, lost in a sparkling universe of pleasure.

T
he minutes passed while Ash and Lindha returned from the heavens, back to the world. Utterly spent, they lay together, limbs entwined. More time passed. Ash reached up to touch her face, brushing back the soft, dark gold of her sweat dampened hair. Lindha smiled in response.

“Lindha,” he whispered. Even her name sounded like a song from his heart.

With mutual physical release, their mental connection had been broken.

Ash reached out with his mind: a tentative caress. Softly, easily he made contact.
“Lindha?”

“I am here, Ash.”
Her mental touch was like a lover’s caress.

“Lindha. I’ve regained my powers!”
Soul free and unburdened, Ash wanted to shout for joy. For five years he had dreaded the Dark Sankomin.
“At last,”
he thought with deep satisfaction. He communicated mentally. Using a rapid shorthand of pictures and thought, he showed Lindha his volatile passions; guilt, rage, grief and despair. As the last Delian, the fear of madness and death had always been with him.
“Lindha, you have healed me. You have saved me from myself.”

“Yes. You are good, Ash. You deserve saving. You are so good.”

“Thank you, my love.”

They each knew almost everything about each other, and about themselves. There could be no more perfect communication. All those years that he thought he would never know the consummate joy of two-way mind-touch, and now he had Lindha. He repeated the Testimonials for her: “
How then to remain pure? To defeat the Dark Sankomin one must touch another’s mind, hiding nothing, showing all.”
Out loud he said, “I love you, Lindha.”

Lindha smiled. Her mind responded,
“I know.”

“You are my mate.”
As Ash thought this, much more than words surged through him: permanence, eternity, a union of souls forever and ever and ever. These were unspoken concepts. It was an attraction, a binding that could not be articulated. In wolf-mate terms, Ash simply felt what he knew to be true: he belonged to Lindha: she belonged to him.

“We are not married yet, Ash.”

“We will be,”
he thought, jubilant.
“Now. Today.”

“Not yet. It violates my vows.”

Ash sat up, contact broken. “What? You’re not allowed to marry? But I require it. It … it is a Trueborn need. You want me, don’t you? I know you do.”

“Yes, of course,” Lindha said calmly, sitting up. “I don’t know why, but it is a stipulation of the Prefect vows. If the Trueborn wishes to marry the Prefect it is not allowed until six months have passed from the time of his arrival. It isn’t long to wait, Ash.” Because he looked so upset, she added, “Of course, if you feel you don’t want me if it involves a six months wait, I am sure that there may be another Lady …”

“Another Lady? I’ll always love only you.” He glared at Lindha and found her eyes laughing. He swore when he realized she was teasing him. Apparently he still had a temper that he had not yet learned to manage. “All right. What’s six months? Besides, our marriage won’t be legal until I’m eighteen. We can still pledge ourselves to each other however, can’t we?”

“Yes, of course. We’ll make a formal announcement today. The moment we return in fact, if the Trueborn requires it.” She gave him a soft musical giggle.

“Well,” Ash said, appeased. He grasped her by the shoulder. “I
do
require it. And there’s something else I want,” he murmured, his voice deep and low with desire. His gaze travelled languidly over her. “Only, I don’t want to wait until we return to the Temple.” He gently pushed her back down on to the soft violet grasses and began, once more, to stroke and caress her.

“Certainly Trueborn,” Lindha breathed, instantly aroused. “As Prefect, it is my duty, and my privilege to provide for you whatever you need. Isn’t the Goddess most gracious, to have our desires so well aligned?”

It was well after dusk before they returned to the Temple.

“Son, the
battle within is between two wolves.
One is unhappy. It is fear, anger, jealousy, selfishness, resentment, and lies. The other is happy. It is joy, love, kindness, generosity, truth, and compassion.” The boy thought about it for awhile and then asked, “Which wolf wins?” His father replied, “The one you feed.”

T
he idea of two human minds interacting on a psychic level — intermingling — was something that both Ash and Lindha had felt intimations of in their early lives. For Ash, it had been the touch of his mother’s hand on his brow the many times he’d been sick.
Dear son, be well. Be well.
For Lindha, it had been the raw crimson of an Opan winter sunset, holding her father’s huge hand as a child.
She is so perfect.
Thus when Ash and Lindha had mind-touched each other it had been natural, and yet extraordinary. But never in their intimations of psychic connection had the two ever suspected that something would happen as would happen this day …

“I’ll race you to the river,” Ash shouted, grinning like a madman. His favorite companion, mischievous best friend and lover, Lindha was a whole new world of unexplored fun for Ash. He had never been happier than he was right now. The sky was light green, the warm wind from the east. He and Lindha were riding their stallions through the upper meadows, an activity they had often enjoyed since they pledged themselves to each other.

“No cheating,” Lindha admonished, “and no fair telling Bethan not to win as I’m sure you’ve done before.”

“Insults. You cast aspersions on my honor as Trueborn. That is pure jealousy talking. Ha! I don’t need to cheat to beat you. Why, I could beat you riding any mount, even Sideso,” he taunted.

Lindha’s eyebrows creased. “You’ll be sorry you said that,” she said. Her stallion, Bethan, jumped to the lead.

It was a fast race, both horses in a mad gallop, their necks and heads stretching, nostrils flared.

“A tie,” Ash said.

“What?” Lindha’s instant rejoinder rang with indignation. “I won!”

“Is that so? I’ll show you what I do with the disciples of Taro who try to deceive me.” Outwardly he put on a furious face, but inside he was laughing. He leapt from his horse, pulling Lindha to the ground. Holding her down, Ash firmly sat down on her hips. Then he held her arms outstretched high above her head.

“Let me go. You just can’t admit defeat,” she giggled, struggling to escape.

Ash didn’t relinquish his hold. Instead he started to tickle her with his chin under her neck.

“Stop!” She laughed.

“I’ll stop if you say, ‘Ash is the best rider in the entire Temple.’”

“Never!”

“Say it,” he laughed, tickling her even more. “I won’t stop until you do.”

“Ash is the best rider in the entire Temple,” she choked. He let her go, one hand fell to Lindha’s stomach as he lay down on his side beside her, smiling broadly.

“Except for me,” Lindha added under her breath.

“I heard that,” he said, reaching for her.

“No, Ash, no. I have had enough. Please,” she begged, still laughing, and then added, with due seriousness. “I just didn’t want you to think that you could force me to do something against my will. Besides, you
are
the best rider in the Temple. There. I said it because it was true, not because you made me.”

“All right,” he said. He reached over, and pulled her near to rest against him. He wanted to hold her. “No more tickles.” They lay together, Lindha nestled with her head against Ash’s chest. They sighed, each contented with the other’s nearness.

Ash felt that he was a different person since that remarkable day of mind-touch healing with Lindha. No, not different. It was as if something he
wasn’t
had simply floated away. What was left was only him. Now he knew himself to be the person he really was.

Freed from the burden of Dark Sankomin, he had discovered a sense of humor, had left guilt behind, and in his eyes the entire universe seemed brighter. It was as if he had taken off thick, dark, protective glasses, after having worn them all his life. Everything was bright, fresh, and wonderful. Not only that, he no longer feared the end he had imagined for so long. It had been always there, that malevolent future. Like a demon of malicious intent, it lay at the back of his mind, poking him, prodding him, reminding him of his assured doom. As the last Delian, he could not have escaped the Dark Sankomin. He had been destined for a death from madness and despair.

Ash ran his finger up and down Lindha’s arm, drawing little circles, aware of the incredible fascination and attraction she held for him. Everything about her was so new, yet he already felt so comfortable with her, as if he had known her forever. “I’m certainly glad to hear what you said about your will,” he said with a bold grin.

“You don’t ever need to force me, Ash, not for anything you want.” As if to settle the matter, she rolled on top of him and kissed him soundly. After a few moments, she raised her head with an inquisitive look.

“Ash, what’s it like, mind-touching the animals?”

Ash’s brow drew down in a frown and for a moment he was lost in contemplation.
What was it like to mind-touch the animals?
Ash sighed.
There was nothing like it in the whole universe.
The experience was impossible to describe. He said, “Lindha, it is a bit like mind-touch with a person. There is another living being that I connect to.” He concentrated. “But Lindha, the animals …”

“What about the animals?”

He smiled and got to his feet, restlessly punctuating his words with his hands. He breathed in deeply. “It seems to me sometimes that I can spend the entire day with any of them. They want to survive, as people do, and that is about the only similarity. They are so self-contained.” Ash was pacing now with animation as he tried to express himself. “They are not disturbed by guilt, nor do they cry with regret or complain about life. They just go about their business. It often seems to me that they are not dissatisfied by anything.”

Lindha raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“It’s true. They don’t suffer the Dark Sankomin as people do. Their minds are different. They never think about possessions, other than perhaps a mate, as in the case of the wolves. But when mated it isn’t ownership, it is unity, and protective care of each other.” For a moment he seemed lost in thought, and then he said absently, “I think I would have died long ago from the Dark Sankomin if I was unable to mind-touch the animals.” His expression lightened. “You see, animals live in the now. So unlike a human, forever plotting and planning and regretting. Before you, the greatest peace I was capable of experiencing was by living in an animal mind.”

His attention fixed on something unseen as his voice trailed to a stop. A strange feeling came over him then, moving from deep inside of him. He thought:
I can be myself with them. Sometimes I feel more wolf than man.

Trueborn! Inhuman!

It was that feeling he had before. Something the Seer had told him. He thought:
This is what I’ve lost. This is what I seek … this truth.

“Could you show me?”

“What?” Ash said coming out of the memory, momentarily disoriented. The feeling disappeared. It was gone so completely he could hardly remember what he had been thinking of.

“Ash,” Lindha said. “Are you okay? You left me for a minute there. You were talking about the animals. I was asking you if you could show me. I want to mind-touch them.”

“That’s right.” He smiled. “I don’t think so, love,” he said, shaking his head with regret.

“Oh,” Lindha said, looking away. Ash immediately felt sorry; she looked so disappointed. “Lindha, I don’t even think my people knew how to do it.” He frowned and deliberated for a moment. “I wonder. You know, if we were in full contact, perhaps you could be with me while I found an animal to touch. It would be difficult, to have our minds joined while I project. I would direct it, but it just might work.”

She jumped up. “Oh! Please. Let’s try.”

“Fine. But first, comfort.” Ash got a thick blanket out from his saddlebag. They were in a secluded meadow, safe and private on Temple property. They both lay down, easily making contact.

“Lindha?”
Ash feel her presence, a light, healing green, but wanted to make sure.

“I’m here.”
She radiated affection.

“Good. Hold on. I am going to contact Tarplan. Remember, if we make contact with him or any animal, don’t say or think anything, all right? It’s intrusive and could frighten them. Just be there and experience them, with your mind as blank as possible. Otherwise you may upset them.”

“As you wish, of course.”
Her excitement bubbled through to him.

Ash reached for Tarplan, slipping into his large animal body like a fish sliding into a stream. Then they were both there; they
were
the stallion.

Tarplan was unaware of their presence. Tarplan’s eyes, located on either side of his head, gave him wide, panoramic vision — but he was quite unable to view what was directly in front of him. His large pupils seemed to be able to detect the slightest movement however, far more than human sight. It was astonishing, to see what a horse saw. Lindha understood then why horses seemed to shy unexpectedly: they could view motion peripherally that human eyes were unable to see. Colors were different, too. While not precisely color blind, Tarplan seemed to perceive a lot of gray, and little red. It was quite curious.

The animal was heavy, all four feet solidly placed. It was odd to have four legs and hooves, yet it felt natural and right, too. All Tarplan seemed interested in was the soft violet grasses. The three of them together sought out the tender blades, occasionally finding juicy pink clover, tearing and grinding the delicious fare with his large molars. The meadow smelled sweet, with delicate nuances of fragrances that neither Ash nor Lindha were ordinarily able to differentiate, much less identify. Apparently grazing animals were able to discern with precision a vast number of plants through smell.

The meadow was wholly different from the viewpoint of a horse. The sensation of Tarplan’s large and powerful form combined with his thought. The animal was intent on and absorbed by the simple act of eating. It was exhilarating. She knew the smell of warm grass, earth and flowers. The sun was warm and restful on his back. Lindha enjoyed the soothing impression of contentedly swishing a tail. Tarplan was intelligent but arrogant, considering himself superior to other horses and animals.

The minutes passed. Ash tired of Tarplan’s touch. He broke contact.

“That was wonderful!” Lindha said sitting up with excitement. “A bit disorienting and disconcerting at first, but soon eating grass seemed quite the natural thing to do — didn’t it taste delicious? So many different flavors and smells — oh, I could do that all day! I see what you mean. Why did we stop?”

Ash smiled, and listened patiently as she detailed her experience with tireless fervor. He had been bored by Tarplan, but his heart swelled as he watched her joy. When there was a pause in her verbal tirade, Ash quickly jumped in. “Want to try it again with another animal?”

“Oh, yes.”

He pointed to the blanket and she lay down next to him once more. She contacted Ash and he thought,
“Hold on.”

Reaching out for some time, Ash became aware of a fleeting touch and made contact. Perfect! It was a whitehawk. Ash and Lindha had taken flight. Soaring with the great white bird, they climbed high into the sky as if ascending to the gates of the Golden Lands.

Upon contact Lindha experienced an elemental assault on her senses. A whitehawk’s eyesight was far advanced when compared with
homo sapiens
. The bird’s vision had a degree of complexity that isn’t present in human vision, and for which human sensory experience provides little intuitive understanding. Lindha was astonished at the vivid colors, the spectrum of colors in a visual band she had never perceived in her human form.

Ash was used to the bird’s extraordinary sight and knew exactly what he was seeing. He waited patiently while Lindha assessed, interpreted and analyzed, making sense of the whitehawk’s complex vision.

Ash projected calm awareness as Lindha struggled with sensory overload. There was so much to understand. It took some time to experience some degree of comfort in the foreign bird form. The whitehawk was aware of every tiny shift of wind, of each thermal updraft or downdraft, the quality of the air, the speed and direction of the airflow, the temperature and amount of moisture it was composed of. She knew all these details, but had no idea how she knew them. Somehow she could distinguish the quality of the air, any dust particles, discern every detail. The bird was enjoying the updrafts, and soaring complacently over its territory. Lindha felt the rapid beat of its heart speeding, her strong, wide wings; she could feel its blood flowing. She could feel every feather, the large ones at any rate. She could move them singly or as a group. The whitehawk had total control.

This is the most incredible thing,
Lindha thought.
She was flying.
Hers was a careful isolated thought that she didn’t project, recalling Ash’s admonition to not confuse the animal. Mind-touch with animals showed her a freedom such as she had never known. As she began to make sense of the bird’s fantastic vision she realized just how much she could see. It was as if she had had impaired sight all her life and never knew it until her vision was corrected. The quality of light, dark, heat, cold — she could see everything! A little mouse under a cool, moldy log; a fish in the river leaping for a bug; Ash and her, laying on a blanket, hand in hand kilometers away; a tiny red wren-finch sitting on Bethan’s back. Any movement was immediately perceived by her acute bird sight. Lindha felt she would never tire of it. She could fly away forever.