The Marechal Chronicles: Volume V, The Tower of the Alchemist (14 page)

“There is a man whose mother named him Alexandre.  A man whose father named him Etienne.  That same man is the first and only one that I shall ever name my lover.”

She went to his mouth and kissed him.  The frantic hunger of earlier was gone, in its place a calm resolve.

Myri pulled back from him and said, “I have always known there would be but a single man for me in all my life.  Little did I know that I would find him so soon.”

Etienne kissed her.  His tongue slipped between lips that parted for him without hesitation and he explored her willing mouth.

Then it was his turn to pull away to speak.

“You do me a great honor.  But I feel that I must tell you that I can not say the same for myself.”

And he did as she had done.  Etienne looked deeply into her eyes and continued without flinching.

“I have known women before you, Myri.  In the village of Urrune, I have learned what there is to learn between the sheets of young maidens.  And so, I tell you now that I cannot give you the gift that you offer me.  If you wish it, then I shall stop now and I will not blame you, for you are beautiful beyond words and any man would count himself lucky to see you but smile for him.”

Myri’s gaze softened then.

“My heart is yours, Etienne.  Do with me as you will for I am helpless before the desire that burns inside me.  That one of us has some skill in the matter does not displease me.”

Etienne nodded.

“I will do my best.”

Myri smiled.

“I would expect nothing less.”

All grew hushed around them as a man bent his head to the breasts of the woman before him.  If he could have thought of such things, that man might have imagined that all the small beasts of the forest had indeed made a truce in that moment, not to keep them warm and sheltered, but to be perfectly silent as the simple magic of the union between a man and a woman unfurled in that quiet place.

As it was, Etienne spared no thought to anything or anyone other than the woman who moaned as he took a rose-tipped nipple between his lips, then pulled back in a long, knowing movement.

Myri’s entire body responded as he did the same to her other breast, then a corded hand slid down across her abdomen, slipped past her navel, and cupped the dark curls between her thighs.

She cried out softly, perhaps in surprise, but also in a husky voice, and her eyes were wide as Etienne touched her where she had become so very moist in expectation of him.

Her hips lifted as he slid his fingers among her folds, then they hitched as he brushed past her sensitive apex and down to her most humid place.

“Are you sure?” he asked, and heard his own voice grown low and throaty. “There is still time to say no.”

Her answer was laughter.

“I name you lover.  Now show me that I have chosen well.”

Etienne grinned, then he stood up and pushed his trousers down and off.

Myri’s hair spilled out dark against his white shirt and he saw her eyes flash to take him in, all of him, for the first time.

But she did not hesitate as she nodded up at him.

Etienne lowered himself down with exquisite slowness between Myri’s legs.

She pushed up at him even as she fell wide in acceptance of what he offered.  The alchemist’s son took his time as he brought himself to bear, then pushed forward slowly yet firmly.

Myri whimpered, and Etienne did not look away from her eyes as he continued the movement he had begun.  Her jaw clenched and then he was inside her, a warmth like a bonfire enveloping his member.  A warmth that felt so much like a home he would never, ever leave.

Slowly, every so slowly, they moved against one another and soon the sound that might have been a whimper became a moan of desire as Myri’s head tipped back, as she arched up against the man who held to her hips and rocked in time with her.

They existed only for one another.  Their eyes were closed and they did not speak, but their bodies conversed in a primal language known the world over since time immemorial.  It was a discourse of delight between two beings who existed in a state of heady bliss that rose up and up only to fall down in an expulsion of breath in unison.

Neither of them took notice of the spangles of light that flickered around them, neither of them noticed there was no chill in the air.  For there was more than one kind of magic at work in that place and although it had been forbidden by her mother, Myri’s power slipped its traces and did as it wanted while its mistress died and lived again in the embrace of a beautiful man.

Etienne felt Myri rise tight against him, then her fingers pulled him hard to her before her entire body trembled only to go rigid, then tremble again.

He felt her down below and soon his own control wavered then broke as his long deep strokes shortened, hesitated, then plunged forward with all his might, and she held him to her as his passion spent itself in great, hitching spasms.

In time they released their tight grip upon each other, and they kissed deeply before smiles broke like the dawn upon both their faces.

They laughed for the sheer delight of one another, then their laughter died away as passion came back to drink once more at the fount of their youth and desire.

This time the experience was slower, more deliberate, and their eyes stayed wide, their pupils large, open and filled with nothing but the image of the face before them.  They watched each other as exquisite agony and anticipation broke upon their brows; they watched as their expressions grew so very serious, frowning before the dam broke beneath them once again.

Myri held his head upon her lap, and she smiled as she watched him sleep.

Etienne’s lashes were deliciously long, the kind that any woman would beg, borrow, or steal for, and they seemed a fitting way to frame the pale grey of his steady regard.

She sighed then brushed a lock of hair from his forehead.  She looked over his body as he lay there in satisfied somnolence, sated after what they had done.

His body was magnificent.  She knew there was no other word more deserving of the man who had made love to her only a short time before.  She knew, also, that he would ever be the measure against which she would see all other men the rest of her life, and that not one of them would come close to the sheer and careless beauty of the alchemist’s son.

“It is forbidden to me.  I know.  Yet I also know that I cannot do otherwise.”

Her words were quiet and meant for no one if not for herself.  Then Myri placed her palm carefully across Etienne’s brow.  She closed her eyes and her lips moved as she spoke silent words in a language so rare and unknown that none save one for a thousand leagues round could have guessed their meaning.

Through her fingers, a golden light shimmered and then dimmed.  She opened her eyes then dipped her head to him and kissed the place where her hand had been.

“Sleep on, beloved.  Dream of me if you will, and I will rest content in the knowledge of what I have just placed in your mind.

“It lies apart from your memories, deeply hidden except in need. For all the rest of your days, you shall know the way to find my home and that no matter what might befall either of us, we shall never be truly lost to one another.”

Myri closed her eyes and smiled at what she had just done.  She had been told that sorcery in the alchemist’s son’s presence would lead only to disaster, but she no longer believed what her mother had said.  Instead, she believed that the bonds between her and Etienne were stronger than any risk and worth chancing the worst of hazards.

Then Myri started and opened her eyes wide.

In the haze of her delight for him, she had forgotten the warning required if Etienne should ever try to seek her out.

“The spell has been cast and the counsel that should have come with it forgotten,” she whispered as she bent down to his ear, “Listen, my dreaming man, and heed what I say.

“‘Ware the Watcher, dear Etienne.  Come to me with a clear heart and a bright eye and it will do you no harm.  It does not obey me, and my mother will suffer no one of ill will come to our home.  One day, the Watcher shall be under my rule and then you will need not fear it.  But that day is not yet here, so tread lightly and smooth your angry brow before you set foot for the marshlands of my home.”

Myri frowned, and she did not find again the calm of only a few moments before.  The warning should have been given as she whispered the incantation.  In that way, it would have been as clear and unforgettable as the knowledge Etienne would need to find her. 

She took a deep breath and hoped that some remnant of magic had lingered long enough to carry the rest of her message.

But, more than this, she hoped with all her heart that it would never come to that and that they would never find themselves apart.

She could not have known that her wish was without hope and that destiny had other intentions for both of them ...

Chapter Ten

The following morning, Etienne had woken early.

The day was a bright one, tarnished only by the fact that his father paid him so little attention when he had gone up to check on him.  Oddly enough, Etienne asked him how went his research and instead of pleasant surprise, his father’s response was dismissive at best.

Etienne simply shrugged and went down the tower stairs to break his fast alone.  He knew that when his father was deep in his work, there was little point in trying to strike up a conversation.  The most one could hope for from the Alchemist then was a distant stare or, perhaps, a few mumbled words with little bearing on whatever had been asked.

It did not matter, though.  Nothing could have soured the morning as far as Etienne was concerned.

He would return to his own work after having neglected it for far too long.

When they had gone their separate ways at last the day before, Myri had told him she could not meet him the following day as she had done since they had first met.

“But why?” he had asked, “How shall I bear an entire day without you?”

Myri had laughed as they walked hand in hand to the forest’s edge.

“You will bear it because there is no choice.  As to why, it is because I must find the Boar.  Certain distractions ... “ and she had nudged him as they walked, pushing him off balance for half a step, “... have resulted in my losing his trail.”

Etienne had fallen silent at the subject of the beast.  It was the best he could manage and bit his tongue instead of claiming once more that magic and monstrous beasts did not exist.

Instead, he had looked into her eyes for a long moment, then he kissed her tenderly before leaving her to return to the tower of his father and his father’s fathers before him.

So the morning was his and Etienne’s thoughts turned to the stones that still resisted his efforts.

The courtyard of the tower was surfaced in hard cobblestones, and scattered about were the remains of Etienne’s travails.  There lay stones of various sizes and shapes, most of them shot through with veins of rich colors that shined under the bright sky.

Without giving it much thought, he went in search of his tools, those that Bellamere’s father had fashioned for him and, in short order, Etienne was obliged to take off his shirt as he hammered stroke after stroke upon hard surfaces that would eventually yield their secrets to his unwavering determination.

It had been a long while since he had last discovered a heartstone, and he was sure that it would please his father if he could find another after all this time.

Secretly though, he wondered if there were none left for him to find, which was why he had ordered such heavy tools from the blacksmith.  A few stones still refused to break before his hammer and Etienne had convinced himself that, perhaps, one of them hid in its center a heart of crystal that would put a smile on his father’s face ... for a little while, at least.

Etienne struck again and again at those stubborn stones and eventually, one after another, they broke at last under his heaviest hammer.

Finally, he turned to the one that had not broken the day Bellamere had delivered the new tools, then thought better of it.

Instead, he set his hammer down and would wait for his full strength to return and his heart to calm.  Then, he would strike the thing with all his might.

That was when he heard the unmistakable jingle of a mule fitted with tack and laden with a load.

Strangely, he did not hear the usual creak and groan of the blacksmith’s cart along with the sounds of the mule.

Curiosity got the better of him and Etienne went to look out at the only road leading to the tower.

He smiled at what he saw there, then he walked with broad strides to the side of the portly young man who stood next to the mule.

His face was sweaty and red, but there was no mistaking his good friend.

“Louf!”

Etienne clapped a hand to Bellamere’s shoulder.

“Ah, it’s good to see you.  But what are you doing without your cart?  It’s a long way from Urrune when you’re used to riding a buckboard rather than walking.”

The blacksmith’s son nodded and gulped. 

Etienne understood.  His friend was out of breath, so instead of scrutinizing him too closely and in guise of letting him catch his breath, Etienne looked to the sky, closed his eyes, then stretched his arms over his head.

They both heard the joints of his spine crack as Etienne leaned back.  Then they both laughed for there was no other response needed when there were bright, blue skies overhead and a good friend to speak with.

“Aye.  There’s no denying it,” Bellamere said, “It’s a fair ways longer than I thought, but that’s the way of it, I suppose.  As for the cart, I decided I wouldn’t need it where I’m going.”

Etienne frowned.

“And where might that be, Louf?”

Bellamere’s face grew serious then and he said, “Well, my father has finally gone and done it.  He turned me out, so I’m off for Barristide to see if I can make my way in the world.”

The alchemist’s son shook his head.  He had been on the verge of telling his friend all about the beautiful woman named Myri, but what he heard then chased all thought of her from his head.