The Dark Chronicles Ch. 02

Part Two - The Mask in the Mist.

I was there.

When magick made a bridge of mist and a prince's seed made an unborn king, I Maer Maerlyn was there, a petty dabbling sorcerer stealing love like a thief.

After the solstice and ceremony of the Sun, when Nym Nymue was made consort and queen, the Lady went her way and I the Maerlyn went mine. Both our paths ran through the land, spiralled and straight, hers and mine, collecting legiances and curses. We did not happen upon each other many times, she serving the Goddess her way and me doing service mine. The Sisters in the Isle of Glas learned both our songs and collected news, so we knew what each the other did, but our paths seldom crossed.

In truth, Nymue's white purity frightened me yet bewitched me too. I might wish the forty years between us gone, but the Goddess never wheels the stars backwards, only forwards. I looked upon Nym Nymue when I saw her and had to turn away in torment and despair. Even I cannot sorcer a new face for these old bones, it cannot be done; and besides, who would do it?

I lie. I would be the very first to reverse my time if I could, if I could lie every night with Nymue, with a face that pleased her. I would do it, if I could. By the Goddess, there is something about the girl that reaches right into my guts and grips me there, twisting my belly like a silly boy seeing a sweet girl the first ever time. I turn stupid when I see her, so make sure I keep away as best I can. The land does not need another dolt, there are plenty enough of those in chapels and monasteries as it is.

In time, I found myself useful in making stratagems and plans down on the long peninsula, where Moors come up from Iber and Afriq, sailing their ocean ships bringing silks and spices brought across the long Atlant. Their trade made the tribes and kings down south grow strong, and their new wealth struck jealousy into olden reigns further north, living poor on turnips.

So fights and battles began, camps in high places became forts with bankments, ancient harbours were dug deeper for larger vessels. Warriors and fools circled around the land, legiances grew strong, fell weak, scattered, and rose again. Daughters and sons made dynasties and disasters, barren brides and fecund sons, bastards became princes and kings begat kings. I became Maerlyn the engineer, building fortresses impregnable made of stone and rock instead of thatch and wood. I made defences with a rare skill, and none so great as the fortress by the sea they called Tyntangel. The Gorloys Duke lived there and his Lady Ygraine, by the sea. They hearkened both to me and took my wisdom and advice.

And my diplomacy! Yeay by the Goddess I had a smooth tongue, layering bedazzlement and charm by equal measure, convincing this court and that to combine their armies, choose their arms and legiances together. I even convinced some fool bishop or other, I cannot remember his credulous name, to twice tithe his church monies to Gorloys, and he to grow stronger for it. So I, Maer Maerlyn, embedded mine self in Gorloys' court and knew the people there.

Midwives came and delivered of Ygraine a daughter, Morgayse who was first born and Gorloys' first daughter. And ten years on, a second child Morgayne did fret and cry upon the tit, who was the second daughter, but no son born.

Morgayse was a daughter like unto her mother, tall and fair even as a maid. Morgayne was contrary, small and dark and fey, a tiny child sitting with darkness in her eyes, watching, watching, watching all the time. Of this time I now tell, she crawled along in her swaddling clothes and still could not speak. But watching, oh yes, those little black eyes; hell's mouth might have spawned the imp. I was nervous around the child and no friends with her. Her little black eyes, they saw too much. Morgayne of the night, born in the darkest dark of the moon when the candle guttered and the midwife wiped the caul away that nobody might see.

Ygraine now, oh yes, she was a woman worth keeping away from other men in the high halls of Tyntangel's keep, circled nearly all around by sea and high cliffs. Ygraine now, yes. A strapping tall woman, with a great mane of waved golden hair and splendid thighs, long and firm. I magined her grip and her strongness. Yeay, she was a beauty, truly. Gorloys was ever jealous and tried always to hide his wife away, but the Lady Ygraine would not comply and did not obey him.

Princes came to the court to make treat with the Duke and to pledge legiance and horse for his campaigns, for Gorloys made excellent command. With the assist of my devious strategy, more forces joined the Duke's legions and made win upon northern and eastern losers and knaves, and his kingdom was made. But no sons for the kingdom to keep.

The princes looked upon Ygraine secretly and lusted. She made no shame and would dance with them, flagrantly. She was Gorloys' cursed wife, but ah, her sweet blue eyes kept such false innocence. Ygraine thought she was not barren of boys. Her belief it was the Duke who made bed with her and brought only girls. Ygraine looked with delight at the young princes and scoundrels who came to her husband's court, and thought upon her loins she could get a man to fuck who made men, not girls.

Gorloys knew this and bade her locked away. She fought upon and rattled the door, but was well guarded by his trusted legion, true aye to the Duke. Ygraine and her women, the Duke and his men. 'Twould be a brave man to step between, or foolish.

There soon came to the Duke's court a powerful prince, Uthur by birth, pen Dragen by standard and flag, a great commander and captain of men. I was intrigued by his standard, and remembered back to the dragen let loose from the mountain afar to the east and the cataclysm on the earth. I wondered at the man arrogant enough to fly that flag, and made to watch upon him. I made a pledge too, to discover Uthur's advisor, for any man so audacious would indeed be well advised. I wondered how I did not know of this man before now, for common enough, I Maer Maerlyn should be that advice.

This Uthur took one look at the fair Ygraine and was smitten, that I could see. He wanted her plain, and his look was more than politick, it was lust, straight and simple. Her to wrap those legs and firm thighs about his waist, for to fuck the Lady Ygraine? He would make battle, I thought, and fight Gorloys even as he supped with the Duke and drank his cup. Love's traitor then, the ancient game. I would look upon it only, 'twould be a foolish man to step between, or brave.

* * * *

"Maerlyn, do you skulk and watch from behind the kitchen door, like a servant child or some malodorous cook, making unto men poisons and soporifics?"

By the Goddess, what? What jest is this, who speaks to me with a contempt, but so familiar yet?

"Oh Maerlyn, have you forgot, your favourite sister's daughter's voice? I'm sad, that I am forgot so soon." Her voice was light and lyrical, a gentle teasing croon.

Oh Goddess, I was not prepared for this, not her. I turned slowly and looked upon the Lady, the white Nym Nymue, and even then was smit. She looked up at me, fond indulgence in her eyes, and she knew. She knew this old man was bewitched by her and could not get away, did not want to run, could not even if he tried.

"What witchery, Nymue, what witchery do you bring?" My mind, though struck by surprise, was seldom slow to grip and grasp at truths and lies; and I saw before me the pen Dragen's advice, that by superior strategy would assist. This man Uthur, then, must truly be a new and huge force upon the land, that Nymue would cleave to him and give him words. The Lady did not dabble foolish, so it followed she sought me here, deliberately. "I am found for your strategy then?" I asked.

"Ah, Maer, yeay, I have thought upon it true, these last years, and this man Uthur is important to us; but he will be surpassed, we make it so."

We make it so? Nym Nymue not strong enough to do her magick solely? "What conjuring do you propose, Lady, that we make it so?"

"Maer, you may be old, but you grasp quick the entire board, you grasp it so already!" Nymue looked at me and the crease in her eyes was friendly. "It will not be so hard then, not so hard as I thought." She paused, and ran her hand through her hair, still white like snow, but cut short and cropped about her skull. "I have talked it with the Sisters, my mother and Nyn Nyneve, and we think it possible." She touched my arm, and blood thundered through me and bumps on the goose took to my arms. "We will make it so, you and me, Maer Maerlyn, you and me."

So the Sisters knew it and plotted, for the Goddess? Powerful then, the magick proposed, but needing man and woman both to sorcer, the most powerful magickians in the land? She and me? What audacity is this, that I do not know it? I looked upon Nymue and knew I was but an apprentice now. The Goddess is well served then, that she finds Maer Maerlyn and Nym Nymue to do her will.

"And Uthur, what is he in this?"

"Ah, yeay, the powerful prince. See, who does he gaze upon, so full of lust?"

I looked to where Uthur sat and followed his gaze. Ygraine then, fucked by his eyes, as clearly as two follows one, and three follows two.

"Come, Maerlyn. I will explain, and then we conjure. My sickle moon is upon me, mine own power is strongest in me this night and it is time." Nymue looked across to the high table.

"See, the Duke and the prince make ready to ride. My plan unfolds tonight." Nymue looked up at me. "Do you feel strong tonight, Maer, or do I make it so?" She teased, and I was taunted.

Goddess, what do you have for me, planned and determined, that Nymue knows and I do not?

* * * *

"Come away, Maer, to Uthur's camp. I have a travelling tent there, safe and remote. Uthur's troops dare not disturb me where I sleep, and we shall have peace to do our work." She smiled and her eyes laughed. "They fear the white one and it suits me, mostly."

Nymue went from the room and bade me follow. I did not know her idea of peace and thought I understood the guards' fear. I feared my bones and my body might find her presence not so peaceful, and her talk of her sickle moon power unsettled me, as I knew from tales of Glas something of Nymue's conjure.

I also knew her singular focus and the heights she might soar, her tokens dropped from shoulders and rising up. My mind remembered Nymue's gold kissed nakedness at the ceremony of the half summer sun, and the precious curves of her delicate waist and the patch of white at the base of her belly. I remembered, yeay, and wanted. How could I not? I was always ever becharmed by the girl, and she knew it. Nymue looked upon me, and knew it.

The shock of the five high waves - I knew now her terrified tale - was a permanent mark all upon her. Nymue's cropped white hair now hid her age, and she flickered between young woman and old crone in a flash, but was artful and mysteried her years, that no-one could tell. I knew, of course, having counted the years since she was a babe on Vivyane's breast, and did not ponder her disguise.

Uthur's camp was pitched on the meadows before Tyntangel, his tents made in rows and his horse saddled up. Nym Nymue and I watched as the war horses thudded by, their big hooves plashing on the mud, their riders full rigged. The pen Dragen standard fluttered at the lead, and the colours of Gorloys Duke beside.

As the prince Dragen passed by my Lady, Uthur pulled up the reigns on his horse and leaned low to Nymue's ear. He glanced up and saw Gorloys ride on. "Is it this night, Lady, that I shall have Ygraine and betray the Duke?"

Ah, so that is the plot, but I knew not the working of it.

"Yes, Lord. Keep to the side of any skirmish this night, that you might withdraw suddenly, when my messenger comes. Then obey all, every voice you hear, even if the sense of it makes no sense." Nymue looked up at Uthur's high frame on his huge horse, and by any measure, she should be the smaller one. But when I looked upon them both, Nymue seemed to stand taller than he, and I wondered on at the plot, knowing it hers and not his.

Her words echoed: I have talked it with the Sisters and we think it possible. But only with me to aid and participate, yet still I knew it not.

Nymue whispered to mine ear, "Yeay, his lust falls to my plan and will focus him strong. His belief and desire will speed his feet, Maer, and we will not have to concentrate long. Uthur's want is our help, and will feed the spell." The witch looked up to mine eyes and we were a tall thin man and a woman delicate and small. I wondered at her strength. And doubted mine.

"But you are uncertain, Maer. I must explain it, and so doing, begin our sorcery that must combine the man with a mask to claim entry to the keep, that Uthur may go there." Nymue turned on her toe and made way to her tent. "I need your geography of the place, Maer, to know the hidden doors and escapes, and to guide the man when he returns from battle. The entrance is hardest by. You know it."

Indeed I know it, for I made it. I did not see how it could be done, to gain entry, if Uthur did not know the watch and the word.

I followed Nymue to her tent and she spoke true. It was distant from the rest of the camp, and from within it I could look down over my fortified entrance to Tyntangel. There I saw the watch. Uthur unknowing of the word, how could he pass?

"Maer, as we make it, so will it be. For the Goddess, who needs a new king." Nymue poured wine from a goblet and we both supped from the same cup. The palms of her hands covered the backs of my long fingers and again my heart a thumped and beat faster. I felt old and young both, and did not know what I should do.

"Follow, Maerlyn, come within."

Ah, my familiar name then, and I am beckoned. I knew not what was to happen, but guessed her conjure was begun with the the sip from the cup, some calming thing. Nymue led me into a second chamber of the tent.

"Wait," she commanded, as she herself went behind a screen and was hid. The screen was high, and Nymue was hidden from mine sight. I heard the squeal of a hinge, ungreased it must have been, and the flutter of cloth. Nymue came from behind the screen and she was all in her white, symbolic. Her hair was bare and uncovered, short against her skull, and the whiteness of it captured my eye like new snow. Her pale blue eyes gazed upon me, forthright but friendly, yet a concentration on her face. Her spell was started.

Nymue came towards me and took my grizzled grey head in the palms of her hands, and she kissed me. "Maerlyn, you and I this night must work up our strengths and powers, as the Hindi Maithuna teaches us, ancient wise. As I love you, so shall it be."

Love? The woman talks to me of love? "What lie is this, Nymue, that you talk of love?" My voice cracked. I could not keep my head straight through this nonsense. Even if I might want it so every time I looked at her, I knew it false.

"Do you doubt, Maerlyn?" Her voice sunk low, like honey and smooth. "Oh Maerlyn, doubt me not, yet true." Nymue began a small flowing dance, weaving her hands up and about my body, touching me not but I felt her presence there. Her arms made a sinuous rhythm and her palms caressed the air around me, a floating from my skin. Candles flickered in the tent and burned whiter, as if a new fuel was in the air. I stood still in the place and felt a surge through my old bones and muscles. In the base of my belly a heat began and my root began a swell.

"What heat is this, Nymue, that you bring?"

"The fire is always lit, dearest one, I have seen it in your eyes. I've always known it and could fan it when I like. But tonight is not frivolous, Maerlyn, it is a sacrifice, our love used for something else." Her voice was a low croon, a low song around me as she wandered, and sweet honey to mine ears.

"We make it so, yet when our Mother commands, only then. There is a greater will." Nymue stopped her spin in front of me and looked up at me. "Care not, Maerlyn. If the Mother wants it, we make it so." She smiled, and it was a softness. "You and me."

The witch reached to her throat where there was a simple clasp and dropped her gown away.

Nymue stood before me naked, her pale flesh flickering and shadowed in the candle light. She stood still and unmoving, the top of her sweet head barely reaching level my lips, for I am tall and she is not. Nymue looked up at me and the blacks of her eyes were jet and wide, else the rest of her was pale and white. Her breasts were pleasing round, a gentle swell most firm and nipples dark and hard. I looked down, I could not look away. Her belly was flat and smooth, a white triangle of fur at the base of it, soft looking like a white pole cat. Ah, Nymue. My own flesh stirred at the sight.

"Maerlyn, we must make ourselves hot with each other, to call up lust magick and drive Uthur to Ygraine to rut in our stead." Her eyes looked glazed, and she dipped her fingers between her legs and then to my lips, scenting me with her perfume, musky and dark. "Wait."

And she ran to the curtains of the tent that was the entry way, and her body was curving and sweet, her little waist just a span of my hands if I touched her. She called to her maid. "Send message to pen Dragen, a quickness in the feet who take it. Tell him, return from the battle soonest, time is a running now under the sickle moon. My strength, it is rising strong. Quick."

Nymue returned her whiteness to me, and her fingers clasped unto the cord about my throat and loosened it. My cloak fell away. "You do it Maerlyn, be naked too, with me in the flesh."

I unravelled my clothes, my britches and my tunic vest, casting them to the ground in heaps, and soonest stood naked as the day I came crying into the world. I sensed now the way of it, our high magick to conjur visions and delusions that Uthur might pass. To do it Nym Nymue and Maer Maerlyn both needs place our own lustingness on each other, but nay to consumate. Our flow of energy must be powerful strong to combine, the witch and magickian together.

"Your wood, Maerlyn, ist made thick for me?"

Even in her magick, I saw a sweet smile in Nymue's eyes, making this old man hard like I was young again and her the cause. She gripped me in her hands and held me tight, then placed my length to her belly and her breasts, feeling my hot heat there. "Ah, Maerlyn, your rod makes heat on my flesh and burns me against my skin."

Nymue's hands were warm and started a slow caress. Pleasing thick, my cock was long in her hands and she stroked me up, faster and slower. She sank to her knees afore me and crooned her lips around my plum, humming a low song on my flesh, suckling up on me, sending heat and thrills up my spine. So the witch made me rise, and I grew strong.

Her tune changed and one hand dropped away between her legs and she dropped to the ground like a dog on all fours. Displaying her cunt for my eyes, she played apart her purple and red lips, and her cunt was a bright split in her white flesh. I feasted my eyes on her ass cheeks and fresh cunt, seen for the first time and I hoped not the last. "Do your eyes like this sight, Maerlyn, my wet cunt opening to your tongue?"

I needed no directions, but sucked Nymue's honeyed cunt to my mouth and tasted her to my tongue and to my lips. I reached under her body, finding her swaying tits and cupping them. So I found the witch Nymue and tasted her, and her blood was metallic on my tongue. Her sickle moon was upon her, her tide drawing out and turning, and her sex opening up.

Nymue started up a low chant in her throat, her moans a rhythmic sound, and I supped upon her cup and she started up a high ecstasy but never peaked. Her body was flushing all pink as her strength rose, yet she surged and stopped, surged and stopped; and so did I. Between us the air began to coil and shift, a smoking thing pulling sacral energy from within her cunt and all along my cock, and the air crackled and glowed.