The Dark Chronicles Ch. 08

The valley curved and widened, the stream now a body length from bank to bank, and deeper. The path was no wider though, so Lilith guessed few people came here. The place was quiet, just the hum of wind in high branches and the deeper burble of the brook.

Lilith stopped. Ahead of her there was a wide clearing, the trees surrounding the space cut down. Up from the stream, on a small rise, she saw a small cottage, stone walled and thatched. It looked well kept, the thatch still pale in the sun. The path ahead of her curved up to its door, and she saw the same path curve off to the north.

"That's curious," she said, and perhaps the horse listened. <i>Both paths meet at the door.</i>

She looked around, but could see no sign of occupation. The two paths were lightly covered with short grass, but Lilith could not tell if feet last passed the day before, or a week before, or a month.

"Come on, let's see." Lilith turned to her horse, and it did not seem afraid, even in this uncertain place. Trusting its animal instincts, she stepped forward, slowly walking to the door. As she approached the building, she felt a sweet heaviness in the base of her belly, and her nipples thickened as if cold, even though the air was warm. Her heart beat a little faster, and she instinctively touched her horse's neck, to feel its hot heat and animal flesh.

"Ah, I see it." The reason for the thick sex magick in the air became clear. Carved on the door, near its full height, was a Na Gig, a full carven image of a woman's sex. The slit of it was obvious, and the lips all rubbed and smooth. Lilith ran her fingers down the length of the portal cunt, and her whole body throbbed.

"Sweet goodness, there's power here. Someone's made this, and grown it powerful too."

She looked down, and there on the door stone was an offering and a lock, a rush from the stream below, wrapped with twists of hair, blond and red. She knew that to gain entry here, she too would need to make an offering. Given her heightened arousal all day, Lilith thought that an easy thing; standing hot naked before the door already, she'd brought herself here.

She looked down at her gold burnished torso and thought it offering enough. She trailed a finger down her thigh, realising her full naked walk had exposed the flesh of her legs to a touch from the sun, and her skin was hotter there.

Lilith turned back to her horse, and led it to a wooden stall in the lee of the house. <i>A rider here, regularly,</i> she thought, seeing good straw and a wooden pail for water. She unsaddled the horse, placing her packs and panniers on a stone shelf, then spent a good time currying down the animal, brushing away its sweat and dust, until she gleamed with her own sweat from the effort.

Lilith let the bridle fall. "Go graze, my friend," she said softly, knowing the beast had sense and would return to the quiet safety of this place. The horse whinnied and shook its big head. She watched with joy as he galloped once in a single big circuit around the cottage, as if to close them in and keep them safe.

"Now me," Lilith whispered, making her way back down to the brook, where she found three stone steps down into a hollowed out bathing place. She walked into the water, and it surrounded her. She submerged her whole body and washed away the dust and sweat, rubbing her limbs, squeezing water through her hair, cleansing herself.

After a long, languid moment, she climbed back out of the water and walked dripping towards the cottage. Reaching the flagstone in front of the door, she reverently bent down and picked up the totem, touching it to her lips, then held it between her breasts. She placed her palm against the door and with a gentle push it opened, swinging silently on greased iron hinges. As she touched the wood, Lilith felt a deep throb of energy in her belly, warm and full. Her breasts felt heavy, her nipples tight. She cupped her breasts in her hands, and offered them up to the Na Gig, a lustful holy mother, a sister, a daughter too, an old crone and a virgin child.

"Accept this my body, let me in."

Her voice was clear and steady, seeking entry to this sacred place, offering the one thing that was hers to give. Her body, pure as water, as bright as the sun, cleansed by the stream outside. She stepped inside.

It was a small room, lit by two small window openings either side of the door. Lilith saw simple benches below each window, an open hearth with a black hanging pot, and a central table, wood carved and smooth. Around the wall, at regular intervals, were a series of rush holders, empty now. Below each holder was a dark pool of dropped pitch and ash, from their burning.

She stood quietly at the door, letting her eyes adjust to the low light, letting her senses adjust to traces of sensation, a lingering something in the air. She took in a deep breath, inhaling some languid scent, a faint perfume. There was something familiar to Lilith in the room, but she couldn't quite catch it, some flittering thing. Goose bumps thrilled down her arms, and her breasts felt heavy, pushing tight ice into her nipples from deep within her chest. Her cunt bloomed, and she felt a pulse deep within herself.

Outside, she heard a slow clop of hooves as the horse returned to its shelter. A soft wind brushed across the grass behind her, a susurrus of sound. Lilith placed the totem from the threshold on a shelf by the door, and stepped into the building. She pulled the door to behind her, the wooden handle worn smooth. She felt a familiar touch from the wood, as if her mother's fingers lingered there.

Lilith's heart thumped low, as she realised what this place was.

"Mother, Father, is this where you come?" There was no reply, but her vision grew sharp. Between her legs Lilith was wet, a sweet intensity of sensation aching within her, curling around the base of her body, pulsing with her heart beat. Her slow lust, which been building all day, was a settling thing on her soul. She shivered, and ran her hands languidly over her body, feeling her curves, her small waist. "Ohh," she sighed, in love with herself and wanting more, her own limbs tangled in his.

"Ohh, Father, is this where you find her?"

"Mother?"

Lilith took slow steps, one by one, around the table, running her fingers along the smooth wood where her parents' hands had touched and their breath fell. She walked towards the inner door to the next room, her arms and legs prickling, her slow conjure building.

Outside, a shimmy of ripples flickered across the pool and the tall reeds quivered. The sun sank low, and a blaze of colour glowed pink and lilac as dusk settled. Small creatures moved, wary.

She pushed open the door, her heart beating faster. Sweet fuck, their lingering lust reached the back of her throat like smoke, and she tasted them like she'd kissed her mother's cheek and kissed her father's lips, so many times before.

She'd never tasted them like this before, never so sweet.

Standing in the room, in the chamber where high magick was conjured and spun by her parents, Lilith could taste and smell the beloved love that made her, and the beloved corruption that made her brother.

She understood how their two twinned lives had twisted around each other and grown; curling together in their mother's womb, until the wizard held her tiny body first, pulling Lilith into the light, then her brother, Mordant, to hide in the shadows.

She fell backwards onto the bed, their bed, where her parents came with their forbidden love, their lust for each other, two children from the same womb. Lilith had shared a womb, but she had no interest in Mordant her brother. No, her beloved man was the High King, and she his daughter would sit beside him, to be the next queen.

Lilith had heard tell of Miryamme the Queen, her father's bride, with her feeble head and her empty womb; but the kingdom had no need for another heir. She, Lilith, was the eldest child, lifted first from Morgayne her mother's body by the mage, the fool, Maerlyn.

She knew Maerlyn was no fool. She'd watched him and her mother too, and knew in her bones there was a strange love between them. She could not fathom it, but saw it turning on a long look here and a secret smile there.

So her mother the Red Morgayne, a betraying witch, loyal to herself first, all dark and hidden (and what loyalty to the thin man?), but still the object of Artur's lust. Lilith remembered Nymue's question, <i>Is there love in you?</i> Hers was that pure love as only a daughter could love. Morgayne could slake Artur's lust, but Lilith would calm him with her daughter's love, and be fierce for him, too.

She pushed herself further up the bed until her head rested on pillows, where her parents kissed. Lilith lay back, her body still warm from the sun, her flesh clean and sweet from the stream. She closed her eyes, and her other senses sharpened, the scrape of her fingers loud on the sheet, the scent of her sex faint and lingering; or was that memory?

She gave herself up to the thickening air, the swirl of sex magick that permeated the room, the walls, the very light that streamed from high windows, the conjuring there of her parents; she could smell it. A child born of this would be powerful indeed, and Lilith remembered how her words alone hid her from Nym Nymue.

She knew then she was destiny, unseen, the fate of kings in her hands. Imagine, then, her deeds!

Lilith smiled as she caressed herself, bringing her own sex magick into the heady mix in the room, mingling with the shades of Artur and Morgayne as the air remembered them. She sighed, and thought she felt a touch; but it was her own hand on her breast, its palm pressing hard against her nipple. She moaned and thought she felt a kiss, but it was her own fingers spreading her lips apart and fluttering deep into her sliding wetness.

As her passion rose the sky outside darkened and a gentle rain began. Lilith's voice cried out like a bird's and the wind rose, swirling through the high trees, making tiny waves upon the pool, shaking leaves that twisted and fell to the ground. Animals scurried, and the horse in its shelter stamped a single hoof.

Lilith came and the thunder cracked, and the rain came beating down.

* * * *

Far south, Morgayne looked up and a tiny smile creased her mouth and eyes.

"What is it, Mother?" Mordant asked, but didn't expect to be told.

Far north, Artur looked up and said, "A storm's coming, Maer."

"Best be sheltered, sire," Maerlyn replied, tumbling dice from a cup.

"It's too late for that, Maer, too late."

To the east, Nymue looked up. <i>Is she this strong, already? I'll never see her now.</i>

To the west, the sea shuddered ceaselessly against the land, rising and falling like breath.

* * * *

I was there.

When the king's daughter, Lilith, rode beside him on a high horse and blood be spilled, I was there.

Conjures begin slowly, they always do. The one of which I tell started with a little shower of rain on a clear day. Or am I getting mixed up with with the weather outside? I rolled the dice and forgot to count, clank, clink. "Best be sheltered, sire."

"It's too late for that, Maer, too late." Artur's eyes were distant to the south, and my guts twisted, expecting then to see Morgayne and her slow hands in a matter of days. I knew that look, that longing look. I had it too, but called it my stupidity. Who did I think I was? She the Red Morgayne, with her blood on my hands, scrub, scrub; and her black hair hanging me still, round my neck.

The rain continued continuous, out of season and unusual, but I thought little of it. I knew Nym Nymue controlled mist and fog and the occasional pond, but the last I knew, she was content in Glas. So the rain continued on, 'twas three dull days to my count.

The king was slow and listless, wondering ways to surprise the heathens with their ships, and calling armies to his side. Lot came down from Orkens with his sturdy boys, the sons of Morgayse the king's half sister: Gawaine, Gaheris and Gareth. More red hair than was acceptable or predictable, but the pretty maids from the village didn't seem to mind. They rode on big horses, and made a lot of noise. Good fighters though, all could swing a sword.

The rain thickened, and from the south it came until the third day it was thick grey cloud down low, driving hard against the skin.

I heard a call from the guard on the zig-zag path. "What horse there, walks on alone? Look there, on the path."

I went curious to the palisade, and sure enough, emerging from the driving rain, there walked a slow horse, a big grey. Artur beside me started. "I know that horse. 'Tis Lilith's that she's ridden since fifteen years. Why here?"

The rain bedraggled the creature, yet on it came.

"Groom, go to the horse, bring it to me." Artur called for Rednock, his best man of horse, a whisperer; could calm any beast. But the beast needed calming not. I saw Rednock go to it, to take up its halter, but I saw him step quickly back, a look of fear on his face.

He looked up, and called to the king. "The horse, sire, 'tis ridden, but I see the rider not." Rednock was uncertain. "I'll not touch it, lord."

And as he spoke and stepped away, I heard a high laugh, full of glee, and the hair on my neck rose quick. I knew that laugh.

I glanced to Artur, and his face was split with a broad smile, full quick and bright. He stepped forward, his arms all wide, and he laughed too.

"Girl, what you? Come down from your horse, sprite, come kiss your father! Keep one for Maerlyn too, on his cheek."

And sure there, like a shadow or a shade, I saw a cloak lifted strange from the back of the saddle where it was rolled, and it was pulled up and took on a human shape. As it fell around Lilith's shoulders, for it was no other but she who rode before us, I glimpsed the hiding of her naked flesh as it coalesced and shimmered, and I saw how it was done, her conjuring spell.

Full naked on the horse she rode, but tranced men's eyes that they could not see until she wished it, then covered herself with cloth, her travelling cloak, and her body hid but her shape revealed.

I was full astonished, knowing what power it took to conjure up a hide like that. I remembered the night when Nymue meddled her greatest art, with me beside all rutting and hard, and she fooled the eyes of Gorloys' men; Uthur to pass by and fuck the fair Ygraine. And the granddaughter now could do it? As easy as riding a horse? By the Goddess, Nymue never spoke of this. I wondered if she knew.

Artur reached up his arms to take Lilith by the waist, and lifted her down from the horse, his arms all inside the cloak and a wrapping her body all round. His eyes fair shone as Lilith kissed his lips.

"Father, I've come, and it was a long ride. Do you love me still?" Lilith's eyes were bright, and her smile so full of delight, teasing him, her father.

She turned to me. "Maer! Show me your hands, that touched me first, and cradled my little body like a bird." And she turned my hands all over, and touched them with a kiss. These old hands. I turned them over and looked at them too, and wondered why they shook.

Artur escorted Lilith through to his dwelling, his arm protectively about her shoulder, although I didn't think she needed much protection. Warmth, maybe, after riding through the rain; and sure enough I saw smoke spiral upward through the thatched roof a short while on.

I wandered away to find Emmelyne, thinking it sensible to set upon a spying if we could, knowing Lilith's birth shroud a secret still between the two of us.

"She's got a power to her, Em," I said, explaining what it took to hide from men the way she had. "And she commands the king, I see it. His slow mood, all gone tonight. She cheers him."

"The Lady pleases the king, Maer?"

"His daughter, Em. Think not on it, not that."

Emmelyne looked at me a long moment, then said, "Her mother's daughter, too, Maer; don't forget it."

An unlikely thing, to forget Morgayne, nor her daughter.

"I think, Em, I shall ride to Glas on the morrow, to speak with Nym Nymue and find out what she knows."

* * * *

"Nothing, Maer. If Lilith be not before my eyes, and I don't blink, I see nothing of the girl. I know her not, and her futures past, never known."

Nymue told me of her encounter with Lilith in the marshes and on the dunes, and I sat, astonished. "You say, Nymue, you saw her horse, but not Lilith, yet the sun shone bright?"

"Yeay, Maer. She shone brighter and blinded my eyes, till she moved and I saw her shadow and shade."

"Just as in the rain. She rode, and blinded ten men's eyes, even her father's first. But he knew, in an instant, when she laughed." I gazed upon Nymue, and she looked up at me. "Her laugh, Nym, she loves him fierce and teases. He craves it, our king."

"Ha," Nymue burst out. "Is there love in you? I asked her that, but she answered it not. Fierce, you say?"

"There would not be a snake, Nym, could slither between them. They each would die for the other, I think it."

"Is't pure then, their kiss?"

"I dread it not, Nym, their kiss."

Nymue sat and pondered long. "Yet Morgayne her mother, I didn't see her, either. And that love was pure, too; a sister's love for her brother."

An ember cracked and flew from the fire. We sat, Nym Nymue and I, and watched it dull to black. She looked at me again.

"I wonder if we were clever, Maerlyn, long ago. Or fools, both of us fools."

* * * *

I returned to Camlann, and found Artur preparing another march to the east with a small but ruthless band, to intercept and turn back the men in boats, and declare Britten his own, protected under the dragen's high banner.

"They're like scum on waves, Maer, blown up on a storm, but they've no stronghold yet. We'll spill their blood and break their heads, and send them back to the sea. Filth with untrue gods, they dare to sully our Goddess's land." His wrath was slow and measured, but a new fervour coloured his face, blackened his eyes, made distant his gaze.

His kingdom had been threatened for many years, but there was a new spirit in him now, Artur King, that I'd not seen for a long while. The cause of it stood beside him, Lilith his daughter, standing tall, dressed in long leather, a cross-bow slung across her back, her hair tied in long twists like the skin of golden snakes. She was going to ride with her father as his reconnoitre and spy, all eager to depart.

"By my blood, Father, I'll bind us, and we'll ride the high hills together." Lilith took a sharp blade from a scabbard at her waist, and she put her naked arm against the hard muscle of his arm. With a single, quick and spiral cut she bound two lines of blood, hers and his, in a twist from wrist to shoulder, cut around their arms five times, and bound them both together.

She dipped her fingers in their blood and marked Artur's cheeks with vertical stripes, and he did the same with hers.

"Come, Father, we ride for the east. Command it."

As the cavalcade disappeared over a hill, I looked up and saw the frail Miryamme looking down from a small window. I made a knot on my cloak, to go on the morrow to calm her. Poor child, I had so many knots on my cloak.

l resolved to see Rednock too, something had reminded me about stables. Of course, so many horses; dobbin, dobbin, and all I could ride was a donkey.

I was there.

When the king's daughter, Lilith, rode beside Artur on a high horse and blood be spilled, I was there.

* * * *

Two weeks on, the troop of horse and men and Lilith their spy camped on a high ridge. Off in the distance lay the grey surge of the sea, heaving slowly in from the north and east. Marshes and fens laced the land before them, four rivers flowing down to the northern sea.