Enchantress Awakening: Part One of the Book of Water (The Elemental Cycle 1) (3 page)

“Oh, I am but…but these desires I feel, I think they have affected me more than I had guessed. I fear they may overcome me and perhaps in part I want them to. How can I feel like this and stay true to Penric who has shown me naught but love and deserves the same in equal measure.”

“Ah, well what people deserve and what we can give them is not always the same thing. Do you want to be with Penric alone, and for the rest of your life?”

“I want to make him happy and I do not want to hurt him.”

“Dear Caleigh, you need to be happy yourself too. The truth is you have three choices before you; you can fight your desires and stay true but unfulfilled, this would be proper and would make Penric happy but it would not be honest or fair on yourself. Alternatively, you can give in to your needs and keep these moments secret, this way you will be satisfied and Penric will be happy yet I hazard you will not. I think that guilt would not sit easy with you. Lastly, you can be true and satisfied by being honest with Penric. It will hurt him but it might save him more pain over time. Only you will know which of these three choices is best.”

“You are right, I must choose yet I know not yet which choice I shall make.”

“You still wish to have the potion?”

“Yes, I am very grateful to you for this and for your wisdom.”

“I’m glad I that someone can help you for once. I think we have all become accustomed to it being the other way round.” Caleigh smiled, less weakly than before, her eyes shining through the film of tears.

There were only a handful of women at the banquet, including the handmaidens, all the rest of the near fifty guests were men, all household riders with the exception of Sir Marc and Earl Cynric. These near fifty set of eyes fell often upon Caleigh, who like all other servants of Connlad had pitched in to help accommodate this large party. She was glad of any duty that could keep her busy because it distracted her at least partly from the barrage of lustful images that invaded her mind over and again.

Not all these images were objectionable, some were sweetly romantic and in some cases the carnal visions were appealing too. Caleigh’s fear was not that she would be despoiled so much as infected. She was quite surprised how she kept her calm while her cheeks felt fit to burn.

Tonight, she noticed something new as well, she was beginning to become accustomed to the flashes of lust that went her way when she passed close to one of the riders and now she had started to notice how it happened to Ellie too. The stares lingering upon her moving rump brought fresh echoes of desire into Caleigh’s mind that, were it not for her curiosity about this development of her gift, would have exacerbated her already flustered state.

This happy, bawdy mind-set was not shared by all the men in the room and this Caleigh noticed too. Guilt cut across her sensing Penric’s uncomfortable jealousy, for while he may not have her powers of empathy he could read the nature of a man’s gaze easily enough. Knowing she was blameless for this somehow did not free her from feeling responsible. Less concerning and more curious was the reaction of Earl Cynric. Throughout, he watched her more intently than almost any other man there and yet she never sensed any desire greater than honest admiration. Whatever reason he was watching her for it was not motivated by lust.

By the end of the banquet, Caleigh had just decided to put this curiosity to bed when Sir Marc beckoned her over at the Earl’s bidding. It was Cynric who spoke, “Marc tells me that you are a talented dancer. Would you care to perform for us tonight, I feel sure that the musicians would appreciate the accompaniment.”

“Of course, my lord” Caleigh assented with a sincerity that completely masked her inner fear. Still smiling she took to floor beside the musicians, two fiddlers, a lute-player, a harpist and a flautist; all men. Fifty ale and mead addled heads followed her progress in turn. The harp started a tinkling harmony soon joined by a mournful tune from the flute. Caleigh moved her feet slowly and swayed gently with each step, closing her eyes and surrendering to the music. For a while she was calm as the fiddles slowly joined in and the lute was gently plucked. She saw herself drift slowly over fields and water as though carried on a soft breeze.

The pace of the music quickened and so too did her movements, now skipping, now swirling, her eyes closed no more. Her excitement grew and so did that of the men watching her. All those eyes and all those thoughts trained on her. The rush of desire hit her like a tidal wave. She wanted to give in, to rip her clothes from her body and dance right in Sir Marc’s face or else mount Robin Stronghand like she knew he wanted her to. Her sex leaked with excitement and sweat poured from her brow. Indeed, so flustered was she that all accepted her excuse of tiredness when the musicians next paused to begin a new song.

Staggering away from where she had danced, her head dizzy with emotion as well as movement, she looked over the enraptured crowd she passed. Many wore a look of puzzlement, unsure why they had become so excited over such a wholesome performance. Penric seemed caught between worry and pride: Ellie only the latter. Nearer the exit she caught sight of the face she was looking for. Earl Cynric looked neither flustered nor confused: he looked like someone who had just heard a very interesting answer to a question.

4. Past Presence

Caleigh left the banquet as soon as she was able to excuse herself and went in search of fresh air and solitude. The latter she was denied almost at once. Penric had followed her out of the main hall and stood forlornly at the end of the corridor she sought to seclude herself in. “Why do you leave?” He asked.

“I feel unwell and the heat in there was affecting me.”

“I had hoped we could be together after the banquet. I have seen you only sparingly of late. At least, less than I hoped. Have I erred in some way?”

“No Penric, you have not erred it is I who is at fault.” Caleigh answered heavily.

“I am not aware of being wronged by you.”

“I may not have wronged you but I have done wrong without realising. I did not know it before and now I do it makes it no easier to do what is right.”

“I am not sure that I understand.”

“I would like to be the woman you wish me to be but she is not me. I am barely beginning to understand who that is.” Caleigh could see Penric’s spirits falling and wanted for all the world to stop the hurt that was about to come and yet she knew it must in order to spare him further and deeper harm to come. Knowing no words could make this parting kind she held him in a fond and chaste embrace hoping that somehow through her arms she could impart to him how her love for him remained undimmed even though it was not the species of love he wished for.

Outside and alone at last, Caleigh stood upon the battlements a little way from where she had earlier watched the Earl and his bodyguards arrive. Some twenty miles to the northwest where the foothills joined the mountains was a monastery that overlooked the valley at whose steep end was the Shrine of Lost Souls. Her stomach quivered with anticipation. There lay the answers to questions she knew and questions she had yet to form, yet lived within her taking shape by the hour. For now her questions were simple; who was the woman in her dreams and why had she appeared to her each night since she had shed her maidenhood? 

Footsteps made her start and she spun to see Robin Stronghand dimly lit by light of star and moon. “Forgive me, I did not meant to scare you, I had not expected anyone else to be here.”

“It is no offence you have as much right to solitude as I.” Caleigh answered.

“Please, do not leave. I say I expected to be alone but I do not seek it. Can we not share the view between us?”

“Of course we may.” Obliged, Robert stood beside her on the ramparts. Caleigh peered at him running her gaze over his dark hair and handsome face. He was only two inches taller than her but much broader with well-muscled arms and shoulders.

“How long have you been working at the hall?” He asked conversationally.

“A little over one year”

“Ah, I suppose you remember me not, then. I’ve been in Crowbridge for all that time.”

“I remember you. You were oft in my parent’s tavern.”

“The Horseshoe? I remember the owners had a pretty young daughter, I did not realise that was you. You’ve changed much.”

“Not so much, I have just grown.”

“That’s no lie.” Robin assented merrily causing them both to laugh. She knew what he was thinking, and she didn’t need her gift to do so. He was wondering how that pretty young girl who he used to winked at cheerfully had turned into this full-bodied beauty that stood beside him.

“May I ask you something?”

“By all means”

“Why did you get the name strong hand? Would not strong arm make more sense?”

“Ha, it might I suppose. Do you remember when Bergonia invaded four years ago?”

“I remember it well.”

“Yes, well it was a bad time. They got as close as the hill line, here to the east.” He said pointing.

“I know. I stood here at the time.”

“Hmmm, well you know that we rode out to meet them Sir Marc’s riders and Lord Cynric’s forces. As we charged I swung my axe at the rider coming at me and hit him in the chest. Unfortunately as he continued past my axe was still imbedded. Any sensible person would have let go but like the fool I was I held on tight because I didn’t want to lose my axe. I was pulled from my saddle and dragged along behind him for a few yards before somehow I managed to drag myself onto the back of his saddle and throw him from his horse. Rightly I should have been known as Robin fool hand but he was a captain of note and it was reckoned a great feat for it. Mine was the hand that did not let go, hence why Sir Marc dubbed me ‘stronghand’. Not so impressive a title when you know the truth, is it?” They smiled in unison.

“I am not so sure; I think the tale is quite impressive.”

“Impressively ridiculous, you mean.” They laughed again and then she saw it happening, she saw him lean in and herself responding, kissing him with tender abandon. She saw her dress fall from her shoulders and her magnificent bust escaping from her undergarment while his hands tugged at the material and roamed across her flesh. She saw it all happening within an instant through his mind’s eye and it took every reserve of control to make his wish come true. “Caleigh, is something amiss?” Robin asked seeing the startled expression cross her face.

“No, nothing I am merely more tired than I had reckoned. Please excuse me, I must to bed now. May the rest of your night pass pleasantly.” She said in hurried retreat.

“Farewell.” He answered meekly, looking like a child called in from play too soon.

The beautiful white robed woman was in her dreams again, not this time calling out to her from the Shrine of Lost Souls instead standing in a circle debating with five starkly differing men all in robes. The words of this debate were not to be heard and the image departed in a flash of light. With the fading of the light the Shrine reappeared, altered from how she had seen it before. The weeds were cut back and someone had lain out a bed with books and piles of parchment about its head. A man, probably the owner of these items, with long dark hair and beard strode up to the edge of the precipice where the shrine opened up onto the mountainside and stood there transfixed as the woman in white appeared before him shimmering with light that looked to radiate from within.

The scene shifted and while the shrine remained it resembled now how it had appeared to Caleigh in her previous dreams. She realised too that she was present and no longer simply looking in on what was happening. To the east a great black cloud front was covering the land in darkness, smothering out all light from the horizon to the edge of the mountain from which she looked out. To her left, drawing her eyes away from the looming blackness a pale light shone out slowly taking form as a ghostly outline of the woman in white she kept seeing. Blue eyes gazed upon Caleigh from high translucent cheek bones. “Come to me.” She spoke in a calm and melodious voice.

“Why me?” Caleigh answered.

“You are the one.”

“The one what?” Dimly Caleigh realised she was no longer looking upon her dream-image but her bedchamber ceiling. The ceiling offered no answers: it never did.

…

“Is it true?” Ellie asked accusingly the moment they had a break in their duties.

“Is what true, Ellie?”

“Is it true that you and Penric are no longer as one?”

“Yes, that is true. How did you hear of it?”

“That matters not, besides anyone who has caught sight of Penric this morning would know something is troubling him.” Caleigh winced inwardly at this description of his suffering. Why was it that trying to be fair to him felt like an act of cruelty? “What made you decide to part from him?”

“I think it was the kindest thing I could do.”

“Well, if you see fit to pass on him I wouldn’t mind sharing myself with him.”

“Maybe that would be for the good. He deserves to be loved.”

“Oh, I was not thinking of that. I would like a ride but I am not for stabling yet.” Despite herself Caleigh could not help but smile at her friend’s cheery crudeness.

“Be kind to him. He has been hurt enough by me.”

“I intend to be as kind as I possibly can be to him. I must admit though, I am surprised that you have moved on so swiftly. It does not seem like you at all.”

“How do you mean, moved on? I am not happy about any of this.”

“Oh, so what of Robin Stronghand? It is said you met with each other after the banquet.”

“I spoke with him, yes, that is not to say I consorted with him. Since when did idle conversation become interesting to people?”

“It is Robin that makes them speak so, not what they think of you. He has a reputation and nobody would be surprised if his eye fell upon you. They probably expect it, to be honest, and I doubt he has too many conversations that are in truth idle.”

“That as may be, but who is to say I am so easily charmed?” Caleigh protested in the full knowledge of how close she had come to submitting.

“Well, it is up to you how easily you are charmed. I would think no less of you if you lay with Robin, he is said to be a good lover. Be careful not to love him though.” Ellie said sagely.

Caleigh was tempted to retort angrily, after all she had done nothing with Robin and yet people were talking as if it was already decided. On the other hand, she knew Ellie and knew why she was saying these things and that there was no ill intention behind it.

Nonetheless, she was not in the mood to hear what rumours might be said of her. Parting with Penric had not been easy and she hated to think anyone would believe she did it casually or so she could set in motion a dalliance with a new man.

Wandering amid the flowers of the garden offered some solace and for a while some solitude too. When this happy state was broken she was not annoyed because the person joining her was one far removed from the gossip and rumour-spreading she had sought to avoid. In fact, this was the person she was most eager to speak to at this moment. Earl Cynric moved her way with a purpose that none of his perusing stops to examine each new feature of the garden did anything to diminish.

“My lord.” Caleigh greeted curtseying at his approach.

“Well met, Caleigh. I trust this morn finds you in good spirits?”

“Yes, my lord, well. Is there something I may do for you, my lord?”

“I had hoped that I might pass for merely admiring the flowers. Alas, my purpose is too plain. Sir Marc and Dame Edith tell me you are good to talk to. If you would not mind I should like to talk to you for a while as I pass through these gardens.”

“Of course, my lord” Caleigh said walking into step with the very slight hobble of the Earl. “What may I ask did your lordship wish to talk about?”

“Oh, nothing in particular, it is the talking rather than the subject that interests me. You intrigue me, Caleigh, as I was warned you might.” A smile bristled from under his blonde moustache as if he were remembering a joke someone had told him. “How do you find life in Connlad? Do you ever feel unsatisfied or yearning for more?”

Not knowing how else to respond to this comment Caleigh answered honestly. “My lord, if you had asked me this but a week ago I should have said no but now perhaps yes, if only a little. Please, I do not wish to say that I am unhappy or that I am not grateful for the kindness Sir Marc and Dame Edith have shown me. It is simply that the world seems to me bigger than I had imagined until recently.”

“Such is the nature of growing into adulthood. It is only natural that you should start to look beyond that which you have known until now.” The Earl said sagely while keeping the smile upon his face. It occurred to Caleigh in this moment that Cynric might be knowledgeable about much that was unknown to the people of Connlad.

“My lord, do you know much of the old shrine near to here?”

“Do you mean the Shrine of Lost Souls?”

“Yes, my lord. I have been thinking about it of late and I realised that I know very little about it. I know not even which god it is dedicated to?”

“It is one of three shrines of the White Lady. Were you ever told the tales of Albion as a child?”

“I was told of how once there was a great king but I do not recall the tale in full.”

“Ah, that is a loss. It is a good tale and deserved to be heard. I shall not recount it in whole to you now, though I may at a later time if it is your wish. I will tell you of your shrine, however. The Shrine of Lost Souls has been around for a long time, I believe it was there long before the Senatian Empire reached these lands though not as long as the great henges. It was where nearly one hundred-and-fifty years ago that Caerddyn went after first seeing the white lady and where twenty years later he first met Albion, after he had been sent thither by the White Lady himself.”

“Why was he sent thus?”

“Ah, that is hard to say without telling the story in full. May be I can begin it for you, if you would care to hear it.”

“Yes, my lord, I should like that very much.” Caleigh answered to Cynric’s ill-disguised delight.

“You know, of course, that Albion was born of these parts only a small distance to the south?”

“Yes, but beyond that I know little. My lord, I am sure that your telling of the tale is much more complete than that which I heard as a child.” Caleigh said with enough genuine enthusiasm not to sound falsely flattering.