Stormchild: Emeline and the Forest Mage

VARGIN RISING (30y ago)

'I wandered the world, sweet warrior, I wandered the plains. I slept in the starlight, I bathed in the rain.'

A melodic voice floated on the Desert Mother's winds. A hypnotic voice, soft and sweeter than honey. Casamir lost himself in the sound of it. A swaying dance moved his limbs, a dance he barely recognised. The shapes his dance followed were foreign and unlike the holy dance sanctified warriors did in prayer. Was this him worshipping something other than Sheia? He wasn't sure, and he wasn't sure he cared either. What lingered in his heart was a yearning for the source of that sweet voice. His mind barely registered how strange that was. He liked men, after all.

'I wandered the oceans, brother, I slept on the seas. I breathed in the forest, I thought of my kin.'

When Casamir closed his eyes he could see the woman in his mind, the sweet voice pouring from soft red lips, her eyes dark pools of desire, her body white and shimmering. His mind barely hitched on the strange texture of her skin. When he opened his eyes, he realised he was walking. Away from the dune atop which he'd been dancing and away from the tents of Shegeb. Dusk was falling deeper, the stars appearing above his head.

In the distance, in the low light, he saw the silhouette of the woman. She was real. This intoxicating wonder was real. He followed the sound like a scorpion follows the shadows. Like a snake dances to the flute, unable to escape and unwilling.

'How my heart longed, warrior, for a gentleman's touch. How my lungs sighed, brother, to fall in your arms.'

As he neared the woman, his heart skipped a beat. In the rising moon's pale light she seemed even more a goddess. Oh Sheia he was lost in that swaying voice, in those dark eyes pulling him nearer. 'Oh Sheia,' he breathed.

Desires he had not known before stirred then, warmth in his body in most unholy places. The shimmering of her skin was not a superficial glitter but something more innate with her very being.

'I breathed in the clouds, lover,' she sang in a hungry whisper, meeting Casamir's eyes as he climbed the last stretch of dune to stand beside her. He choked on his own breath, his heart racing, his palms suddenly sweaty. 'I kissed the moon,' she sang.

'I danced with my soul,' he sang. His voice didn't hypnotise sweetly as hers did. It sounded flat and gruff in comparison, but the desire was all too real.

'I drowned in your love,' they sang together.

For a moment there was silence, and Casamir stepped closer to her. She reached her hand towards him, only a breath of wind between them.

'Who are you?' he asked.

In response she smiled, and he noticed how her hair, darker than the soul of Abadon and smooth as silk, stirred in the Sheia's breath. 'I am your dream. I am your vision in the night.'

A dream? Casamir felt disappointed for a moment. Only a dream? He often had dreams that seemed more real than his waking life, but usually he recalled falling asleep. There was one way to be sure.

He slapped himself. Hard. His teeth clattered and his face stung, a tear springing forth from one eye. 'You are not a dream,' he said, rejoicing inwardly. 'You are here, real and sweet. Now, tell me your name.'

The woman cast her eyes down, bashful and innocent, and all the more lovely then. Casamir whispered a curse under his breath and moved the palm of his hand the slight distance further to meet her own. At the touch, ecstasy filled him. He barely thought to wonder at the strangeness of that. They seemed as one. Had he been waiting all his life for this woman to appear? He called to the sand around them, and the sands whirled and twisted in a small tornado, blotting out the stars. As his emotions rose, as the fire in him rose, so too did the winds.