Rhapsody: Child of Blood tsoa-1, Page 2

  He felt a cold wave of fear wash over him. Until now he had expected that it would be relatively simple to navigate home once he had ascertained where he was. But if even the stars were foreign, he was much farther away than he had originally thought, though the season was certainly the same as the one where he had been. Nothing was making sense. Gwydion sat down on a bank of barrels and fought the panic that was rising in his throat.

  Across the road a slight movement caught his attention, and he turned to look. Someone was moving behind the identical bank of barrels that lined the roadway, crouching low and peering over the tops of them toward the meeting hall. Gwydion decided to investigate. He had left much of his gear back at the farmhouse, but he still had his dagger, and he drew it now and ran silently across the road, circling around behind the line of barrels.

  When he was in position he rose carefully and rested one hand on a barrel, looking around it to spot the intruder. To his surprise it was a young woman, hiding behind the line of barrels and watching the comings and goings of the crowd.

  He couldn't see her face. She had long straight hair with just a hint of a wave to it, and it hung like a silken sheet down her back. In the dark it appeared to be the color of pale flax, and Gwydion was struck by the desire to run his hand down it.

  He reached out and instead tapped her on the shoulder. She started and gasped, reeling around to face him and nearly toppling the empty barrels into the road.

  The look of shock on her face did nothing to diminish his instantaneous impression that she was undoubtedly the fairest thing he had ever seen. Her face was delicately formed, with large, dark eyes fringed with black lashes and an upper lip shaped like a longbow. Unlike the other young women at the party, she was clearly of mixed blood, as he was, and thin. As she backed up toward the barrels her hair fell over her shoulders, obscuring much of her upper body and the corsage of flowers that adorned her breast.

  "Don't be frightened," Gwydion said as gently as he could. "I'm sorry if I startled you."

  The girl took a deep breath, and her enormous eyes ran rapidly over his face. She blinked abruptly, as if trying to clear away sudden stinging tears. It took a long moment for her to be able to respond, and when she did the wonder in her voice made his stomach tighten with excitement.

  "You're Lirin," she said. The words held as much awe as he had ever heard uttered before.

  "Yes, partly; you are, too?"

  She nodded slowly.

  Gwydion coughed to cover the flush he felt creeping into his face. "Uhm, are there many of you, I mean, Lirin, around here?"

  "No," she said, and the amazement was still in her voice. "Except for my mother and brothers, you are the first I have ever seen. Who are you?"

  Gwydion thought about how to answer her. He wanted more than anything to tell her the truth, but he wasn't sure himself what that was.

  "I'm called Sam," he said simply. "What about you?"

  The young woman smiled for the first time, and Gwydion felt a strange stirring he had never experienced before. It was heady, and frightening, and dizzying all at once, and he was not sure that the control he normally had over his face or voice was still in place.

  "Emily," she said, and then she looked behind her. Two young men were approaching, bantering between themselves, and looking around the area. The young woman backed up, almost into him, and then ducked quickly behind the barrels again. Gwydion sat down next to her, hidden from view as well.

  Together they watched as the men searched around, looking down the dry dirt road and over the neighboring fields. Just then the music started, amid a swelling of laughter and applause from inside, and the men turned back toward the hall. Emily waited until they were out of sight, then let loose a long sigh.

  "Do you know them?" Gwydion asked, wondering what he had missed.

  "Yes," she said curtly. She rose up onto her knees to see better. Catching sight of no one else, she relaxed, then stood once more and brushed the dirt off her skirt.

  Gwydion stood as well. In general he had little use for women, young or old; being motherless, he had little experience with any. But this girl was different somehow. There was an innate intelligence in her eyes, as well as something indescribable, and he was fascinated by her. Perhaps it was that she was the singular example of her race whom he had seen so far. Or it might have been the mild humming in his eyes and his utter inability to break his gaze away and stop looking at her. Whatever the reason, he wanted to make sure she didn't walk away.

  "Why are you hiding? Don't you like to dance?"

  She turned to face him again, and Gwydion felt the strange sensation once more. It began in his groin, but rushed rapidly to his head and hands, leaving those areas weak and perspiring a little. "I love to dance," she said. Her tone was wistful.

  "Well, then, shall we? I mean, would you like to?" His voice sounded inane to his ears.

  Emily's eyes filled with regret, and she shook her head. "I can't," she said sadly. "Not yet. I'm sorry."

  "What's the matter?"

  She looked behind her again. Seeing nothing that bothered her, she turned back around. She gave him a direct look. "Doesn't this all seem, well, barbaric to you?"

  Gwydion stared at her in astonishment, then let out a laugh. "Yes, actually," he said, trying not to be rude at the same time he was being honest. "Yes, it does."

  "Well, then, imagine how I feel."

  Gwydion felt his liking of her instantly increase. He put his hand out to her. "Come out of there," he said.

  Emily gave a backward glance, then took his hand and allowed him to assist her over the debris around the barrels. They walked a little farther down the road, then looked back toward the hall. The dance was in full swing, with merry music issuing forth and the sound of excited voices filling the night air. It was warm, with a soft breeze; a perfect night.

  Gwydion had so many questions that he didn't know where to start, but he was sure that he did not want to frighten her off by overwhelming her with his need for information. He pointed to the corsage.

  "Are you here with someone?"

  Emily's brows furrowed; then her eyes followed his finger. Rapidly, understanding crossed her face.

  "No," she said, smiling slightly. "These are a gift from my father. You don't come to the foreharvest dance with anyone, that would be counterproductive."

  "I see," Gwydion said. Now that she was out in the lantern-light he took the opportunity to study her more. Her dress was velvet, probably a dark blue, and it was cut with a deep, curving neckline. Underneath it at the throat was a modesty piece that matched the lace at the hem, studded with a line of small silver buttons of simple manufacture. A tiny matching ribbon pulled two of the front strands of her pale hair off her face, securing them at the back of her head.

  Her Lirin blood was obvious in her slim build and delicate features, but she was only three or four inches shorter than he was, probably just over five feet. Despite the calluses on her hands, and a small scar on her wrist, she had an absence of the coarseness that some of the other farmgirls had, and there was an air of dignity about her that belied her age. He wished he could tell more about the colors of her complexion and beautiful dark eyes, but the light was too weak.

  He was suddenly grateful for the first time to his own father for the years of intense insistence regarding Cymrian language study. "Well, what are you going to do now? Since you obviously don't want to go in."

  Emily looked back at the hall. "I think I'll just wait here until my brother comes to fetch me at midnight," she said, sounding a little disheartened.

  "Seems like a pretty miserable way to spend a summer evening."

  "Well, there are varying degrees of misery. It could be worse."

  Gwydion nodded sympathetically. He could see that her family must be somewhat better off than most to afford her the trimmings on her dress, though in his family's circles she would still be seen as a very poor peasant, or at most a common landowner. Her family's relative weal
th, coupled with her appearance, had obviously made her a prime target for the young hunters inside. Unlike the other young women, however, she was unwilling quarry, and he respected her for it.

  "I have an idea," he said, casting a glance around. "There's a clear, flat area over there near the meeting hall, but not too near. I'm sure we can hear the music from there. Why don't we have a dance or two there? If you're willing, of course." All his years of etiquette training stumbled over his tongue and he screeched to an awkward halt.

  Emily's face brightened, and Gwydion's heart rose. "What a wonderful idea," she said happily. "I would love to. Thank you."

  He offered her his hand once more, and led her across the road and over the fields to the small clearing he had seen. They ducked quickly to the side of the building when more people came through the door, but managed to avoid being seen.

  A mazurka was ending just as they reached the field. They stood, facing each other in awkward silence, until the next dance began. Gwydion put his hand on her waist, and was almost unbalanced by the thrill that shot from his fingers up his arm to his head. He took her hand as she lifted the edge of her skirt, and they followed the rhythm of the music across the field, turning in time.

  Almost immediately there was a problem. Though the dance was a simple two-step, Gwydion's training had been in classical military style, and as a result, the unsophisticated step Emily used caught his foot on the fourth pass. She trod lightly on his toe, and embarrassment flooded her face. He ignored it, going on, but at the same point in the next set of passes it happened again. She stopped, looking humiliated, and turned away quickly.

  "I'm terribly sorry, Sam," she said. "You must think I have all the grace of a farm animal. Maybe you should go back inside."

  Gwydion took hold of her shoulders and turned her around. "What are you talking about? I'm the one who doesn't know the dance. Please don't do that."

  "Do what?"

  "Start acting like I'm one of them." He gestured at the hall. "I'm enjoying your company, Emily, and I can't think of anything you resemble less than a farm animal. Do you know what the next dance will be?"

  Emily's smile returned. "Probably a courting twirl."

  "Well, can I have another go of it? I think I can handle that." She nodded. Gwydion noticed that he had not released her hand, and she had not pulled it away, so he held it as they stood, waiting for the waltz to begin. When it finally did he was careful to stick to the basic steps and not add any of the flourishes that he had been taught for use at court.

  This time they meshed perfectly, and he could see exhilaration take her as they waltzed across the field in time to the diminished music. When she was excited her eyes caught the light, or perhaps they generated it themselves. Either way, by the time the dance was finished they were sparkling brighter than the illumination from any lantern.

  "Emmy, what are you doing out here? Are you coming in?" She whirled around. Gwydion looked over her head to see a small group standing at the edge of the field, staring at them. The speaker was a dark-haired young man of mixed race; he concluded that this must be her brother. In addition there were two young women and one of the boys who had been out looking for her earlier. All wore expressions containing varying degrees of displeasure.

  "Everyone's waiting for you, Emmy. You've missed three dances already and your suitor card is messed up completely. Come on."

  Emily straightened her shoulders. "I'll be in eventually, Ben," she answered with an annoyed tone. "And I couldn't care less about the suitor card. I didn't put one in the basket, so I shouldn't have one anyway."

  "Everyone has a suitor card," said the other young man, his annoyance a match for hers. "And I had the first dance. Now get in here."

  Gwydion watched Emily's back go rigid. "Don't you dare speak to me like that, Sylvus," she said coldly. "I'll be in when I'm damned good and ready." He swallowed a laugh at the look of horror on the faces of the young women, and the astonishment of her brother and Sylvus. Ben smiled slightly, and turned to the other boy.

  "See, didn't I tell you? Are you sure you want to risk ending up with that for the rest of your life?" He winked at her and went back inside, followed by the girls. Sylvus stared at her. Finally he spoke.

  "Hurry up, Emily, I'm waiting." He went back inside, with a backward glare at Gwydion.

  He heard her mutter under her breath. "Yes, and you're insufferable, too."

  Gwydion leaned his head down near her ear. "Good for you," he said encouragingly. "Want to take a walk?"

  Emily gave his question no thought at all. "I'd love to. Come, I'll show you my favorite place in all the world."

  The moon was just beginning to rise as they ran down the road and cut across the field, heading up the slope of a rolling hill and leaving the noise and light of the party behind them.

  Gwydion had always been happier outdoors than inside, and as a result spent much time running and walking out in the world. Despite that training it was difficult to keep up with Emily, who, her dress and sensibly laced shoes notwithstanding, climbed the hill without even breathing hard, running most of the way.

  Gwydion had still not completely adjusted to the thin, warm air, and found himself struggling up hills and steep grades, trying to stay beside her, but more often lagging behind. Occasionally she would remember he was there, and slow her steps, or turn and offer him her hand. Finally he decided not to release it when her excitement spurred her to hurry again, and she got the message. They climbed the rest of the way together, hand in hand, at a speedy but reasonable pace.

  Just before the summit she stopped in a shaft of moonlight that made her hair look silver. "We're almost there," she said, and he could see her eyes sparkle again in the dark. "Close your eyes."

  Gwydion complied, and followed her blindly up to the top of the grade. She turned a little to the right, and gently led him behind her.

  "Watch your foot, there's a hole here."

  He stepped around it, and felt her come to a stop. He could hear the intake of her breath as she released his hand.

  "All right, you can open your eyes now."

  His vision adjusted automatically, but his breath was taken even further away by the sight. The valley stretched out below at his feet, bathed in moonlight, as far as he could see. A variety of fields made it up, some tilled, some fallow, with a great willow tree in the middle bending down over a stream that bisected the land. Even in the dark Gwydion could feel the beauty of the place, made somehow more intense by Emily's love of it.

  "Where are we?"

  Emily sank to the ground and he followed her lead gratefully. "This is one of the hills that overlook our farm," she said. "My dowry lands are the fields in the middle by the stream, where the willow stands. I call this place the Patchworks, because in the light it looks like the quilt on my bed, with the different textures and colors of the fields."

  Gwydion looked at her face shining in the moonlight, and heard a door in his heart open. There was something much more than the alien chemical excitement that had been coursing through him from the moment he laid eyes on her, leaving him feeling giddy and stupid. Deep inside him he felt a need more intense than he had ever felt before.

  It was as if he had known her his whole life, or perhaps merely that his life had really started when he met her. Either way, and for whatever reason he was here, he knew he couldn't bear to be away from her for even a moment now. And there was something in her eyes that told him she was examining these same strange and wonderful feelings within her own heart.

  She turned and looked into the valley again. "Well, do you like it?" she asked, a little anxiously.

  He knew her meaning, and added his own to it. "It's the most beautiful sight I have ever beheld."

  Awkwardly he leaned toward her, hoping that his lips would find her willing. He had never kissed anyone except in gestures of respect, and so moved with agonizing slowness, his extremities going cold in the expectation that she might dart out of the way in horror
.

  Instead, when his intentions became clear to her she smiled, closed her eyes, and leaned into his kiss quickly and with eagerness. He had not anticipated the softness of her mouth, or its warmth, and the sensation sent cold shivers through him, even on this hot night. She touched his face before their lips parted, and the gesture went straight to his heart.

  Then, as the happiness he was discovering began to envelop him, an icier feeling rose up to meet it. He looked over the valley and the picture in front of his eyes began to shift, the luminescence turned from moonlit silver to the flat gray of caustic smoke.

  In his mind's eye he could see the valley in the aftermath of a devastating fire, the pastureland smoldering, the farmhouses and outbuildings in ashes. The ground was razed, and the fields swam in rivers of blood that seeped through the whole of the pastureland. Gwydion started to tremble violently as the red tide began to surge up the side of the valley below them, coming their way with an unstoppable insistence.

  "Sam?" Emily's voice was filled with alarm. "Are you all right? What's the matter?"

  Gwydion snapped out of his reverie, and as he did the vision vanished, returning the valley to peaceful silver again. A look of consternation had taken up residence on Emily's face. Her fingers still rested on his cheek, and he took her hand. His own was shaking uncontrollably.

  "Sam?" Emily's eyes grew darker, and worry flooded her face.

  "Emily, where are we? I mean, what is the name of this village?"

  "Merryfield."

  His stomach began to cramp. Merryfield was a common enough name; it could be anywhere. But on the ancient maps he remembered there was a village by that name, somewhere in the midst of the Wide Meadows, the great expanse of open plains that made up a large part of mideastern Serendair. The Meadows had been devastated in the war; none of the human villages had survived. And even when peace was restored, the villages were only beginning to be rebuilt when the Island was destroyed.