Page 35

He thrusts, moans and groans against me, his breathing shallow and fast. I stroke him, all the time increasing my speed, and I can feel a pressure building in him.

His body is up against mine and his nipple is within kissing distance so I place my lips against it and kiss it.

This causes him to jerk violently and for some reason I find this thrills me.

I kiss his nipple again and this time I suck on it like he sucked on me.

He jerks again and this time his thrusts take on a new fervency and then he is jerking almost uncontrollably and he throws his head back and lets out a roar to the sky.

I feel a warm sticky substance running over my fingers and look down to see his seed pouring forth from his manhood.

I can’t quite believe how much of it there is!

His manhood pulses between my fingers and it seems his body is consumed with waves of pleasure.

Still his seed keeps coming and I can’t help wondering if Ellerban men produce more of it than their Ardvallan counterparts.

Finally, he falls against me, his body spent, and it seems he needs the rock to give him support. He cups my face in his hand and stares into my eyes. “Thank you,” he whispers before placing a gentle kiss upon my lips.

“You’re welcome,” I reply, when he comes up for air.

A noise sounds behind us and he immediately covers me with his body.

“What is it?” he asks. “Is it human or beast?”

I twist my head and peek out past his torso. “It’s a fearsome beast,” I whisper as I try to repress the giggle that will give me away.

He moves off me and starts to look around. “Why do I think you jest?” he asks, a suspicious expression on his face. He spies the beautiful little fawn a few feet away from us and smiles. “A fearsome beast indeed.”

He picks his clothes up from the ground, takes my hand and leads me to the nearby stream where he washes the seed from his body and my hand.

When he is done, he pulls on his britches and tunic but leaves his feet bare. He takes my hand and leads me over to the gigantic oak tree that dominates the meadow. He sits down, with his back against its majestic bark and pulls me to him, settling me between his thighs and cradling me in his arms.

“This is a beautiful place,” he sighs into my ear. “What is it called?”

“Glencalla,” I reply.

He takes a moment before speaking but he surprises me when he does. “From my rudimentary understanding of Ardvallan, I think that means the Glen of The Goddess? Is that right?”

“Yes,” I reply and can’t hide the surprise from my voice. “I didn’t realise you spoke Ardvallan.”

He smiles. “To say I speak it would be something of a stretch. However, my mother believed it was prudent for myself and my brother to learn the languages of our neighboring realms. So, thanks to her, I have a basic level of Ardvallan.”

“That was most wise of her.”

He smiles and his expression is one of pride and love. “My mother was a wise lady, alas she wasn’t in my life half long enough.”

“How old were you when she died?”

“Fourteen.”

There’s a note of sadness in his voice but before I can ask him any more about his childhood he changes the subject.

“What’s the story with the markings on the rock?

” he asks, referring to the dark red streaks that run from the top to the bottom of the rock.

“I’ve never seen anything quite like them. ”

“Ah,” I reply, “that’s because they’re unique to this place and what allegedly happened here.”

He shifts a little behind me and I can tell he has picked up on the intrigue in my voice. “Tell me more,” he urges.

“Well, legend has it that a great confrontation took place here between the Goddess Anú and The Dark Lord.”

“Truly? In this place? What happened?”

“It’s told that the then King of Ardvalla had offered sanctuary to the Goddess from The Dark Lord in return for healing his sick son.

However, The Dark Lord paid an unexpected visit and discovered the city of Valensia almost empty.

When he enquired as to where all the citizens were, he was told they were attending a celebration being held by the Goddess. ”

The prince interrupts me. “Let me guess, the celebration was being held here?”

I nod. “Yes, as the story goes, the first snowdrops had appeared and the Goddess wished to celebrate the end of winter and the bringing forth of new life. The Dark Lord was incensed with rage when he discovered she had been here all along when he had spent so many months looking for her. He marched the king and the lords and ladies of the castle here and had his army surround the crowd. He threatened to slaughter them and the city folk if she didn’t submit to him.

Of course she did, and he had her lie on the rock whereupon he ordered her to be defiled to death. ”

I feel the prince wince behind me.

“It’s said the king was forced to go first, under threat of the death of his son, after that it was the turn of the lords, most of whom did so willingly.

However, some refused and the Dark Lord slaughtered their families in front of them.

It’s said some of the ladies even joined in, using various implements, so eager were they to curry favour with the Dark Lord.

On and on it went with some of the city folk joining in and the soldiers, until rivulets of her blood ran freely over the rock. ”

“And these markings are the remnants of her blood?” he asks, his voice low and subdued.

“Yes, as the stream is of her tears. The oak behind us is known as the sacred oak, a symbol of her strength and of those who refused to do the Dark Lord’s bidding that day.

There are those who believe the decline in our population is due to a hex the Goddess put on those who defiled her, cursing their seed. ”

“Phew.” The prince exhales a long, slow breath. “That's some story. However, I couldn't help but notice on my walk around the city, a distinct absence of any shrines to the Goddess. When is her Celebration Day?”

I turn to face him, slightly confused at his question. “Celebration Day? What do you mean?”

“The Goddess, when do you celebrate her?”

I think on his question and realise he is asking when we celebrate the day of the Goddess, much in the same manner we celebrate the harvest, the winter festival and the spring moon.

“We don't,” I reply, “there is no celebration of the Goddess in Ardvalla.”

He looks shocked. “What? None?”

I shake my head. “No. None.”

“Has it always been so?”

“As far as I can recall,” I reply. “Why? Do you have a day when you celebrate the Goddess in Ellerban?”

His eyes go wide. “A day? We have a whole week! From once the spring moon shines in the sky, we celebrate the Goddess for the next seven days.”

I'm stunned to hear this and surprised to find a shocked expression on his face.

“Elinor,” he says, a most earnest expression on his face now, “it's no wonder your realm is in decline. To forsake the Goddess is to forsake life itself. Honour the Goddess and she will bestow her gifts of fertility, abundance and plenty upon you.”

“Prince Ronan, it’s simply a legend, a fanciful tale concocted around the fires of Ardvalla over the centuries. I wouldn’t put too much store in it,” I suggest, a teasing grin on my face.

“And yet, you worship the male gods in Ardvalla?”

I nod. “Yes, of course.”

“And it has never occurred to you to worship the Goddess? Any goddess?”

I think upon his words. “No,” I admit, “it hasn't, but now that you mention it, perhaps it's something I should think about.”

“I suspect some of your subjects have already thought about it,” he says, as he takes my hand and leads me to the rock.

He brings me around to the back where the water for the stream springs and there at the base of the rock are gifts and small shrines.

Fruit, flowers and colorful ribbons. Locks of hair, pieces of fabric, and small scrolls.

My mouth falls open in shock and I bend down to take a closer look. “I had no idea people were worshiping the Goddess,” I say in a hushed voice. “The Holy Cleric makes much of worshiping the gods but won’t hear mention of the Goddess.”

“I think it’s something you need to consider,” the prince says as he helps me up. He places his hand on the rock and whispers something in what I presume is Bawnish.

“Do you mind me asking what you said?” I ask in a low voice, not really sure if I should ask him but too curious not to. I hadn’t expected to discover this more spiritual side to him and I find it intriguing.

“I told her how sorry I am for what happened to her here and I thanked her for all the gifts she has bestowed upon my life, and I asked her to bless our union.”

There’s a depth and gravity to his voice I haven’t heard before, and I realise he runs much deeper than I’d previously thought. For all his gruff and forthright ways he has a deeply caring and sensitive side that I find most heartwarming.

“Do you wish to say something?” he asks, inclining his head towards the rock, and I'm just about to respond when the sound of horses’ hooves comes from not too far in the distance.

By the sounds of it there are a number of riders.

The prince grabs his stockings and boots and pulls them on, then he partially shelters my body with his as we walk around to the front of the rock.

I’m surprised to see a number of my soldiers approaching.

“Do your soldiers normally pursue you on your personal rides?’ the prince asks.

“No,” I reply as a shiver of concern ripples through me.

The riders slow on their approach and finally stop a few feet in front of me and the prince.

“Your Majesty,” the lead rider says, “his Eminence the Grand Master of the High Council commanded us to come find you and make sure you fared well.”

I step out from behind the prince and, in a confused voice, ask, “Did the Grand Master give any reason why he thought I might not fare well?”