| |
IN THE SOFT LIGHT of dawn, the water rode over the cliff with a sound perfect in tone and pitch, everywhere at once, the sound of power and life, the sound of the blood of Creation. Barakiel and his companions stood above Kaieteur Falls in Guyana, where the Potara River plunged more than 700 feet into a curved basin of rock and foliage. Back along the plateau, the river cut a swath through a dense jungle, dripping and fragrant, filled with the calls of the creatures that lived by its rhythms. From the base of the first drop of the falls, the river continued downward in cascade after cascade. Barakiel, who had seen nebulae and the Turning and the bejeweled and furious energy of the Stream, was nevertheless smitten by the beauty of the place. Here was life, fecundity, the blended powers of geography, gravity, water, light, sound, air, time, all in one spectacle that seized his heart with hope. Surely, here, the Three could heal him, in this place that breathed the Balance of nature.
Zan, her arm around his waist, gave voice to his thoughts. “I think we chose the right place.”
When Pellus, Remiel, and the Sylvan Three had returned from the Wasteland early the day before, the commander said the healers needed to rest before they all sat down to consider which waterfall in the wide world they should choose for their attempt to restore Barakiel. At the hidden base not far from the Wasteland Dungeons, the Three had been able to help scores of warriors despite the harsh conditions. The Stream had spoken to them, at its most brilliant when seen whirring above the barren russet of those frigid hills. Once back in the Earthly Realm, the healers took Remiel’s advice and rested, but their concern for Pellus meant it wasn’t long before they were viewing images of waterfalls on Zan’s laptop. After much discussion, they finally picked Kaieteur. Pellus thought it the best choice because of its lack of tourists compared with other famous waterfalls, and its strength. Kaieteur was one of the most powerful waterfalls in the world, with more than twenty-three thousand cubic feet of water gushing over its edge each second.
Now the group stood on a promontory above the falls in a light rain, absorbing the scene and the misty, green silhouette of the Pakaraima Mountains in the distance.
“Well, healers,” Pellus said. “How should we proceed?”
“We may need to stand under the waterfall,” the Three said, “but all that pounding water would surely harm us. We do not think we can form an edifice of healing power sufficient to withstand it. Not in this realm.”
“I will stand in its waters, Three, at their edge,” Barakiel said. “In this way, you can avoid the heaviest flow and sustain yourselves. I will reach out to you when I feel the power of Kaieteur within me. I cannot access that energy in my present state, but I believe I will be an effective conduit. Balance willing, you will take it from me.”
“Very well, Barakiel, but how do we get down there? Is there a rift, Pellus?”
“Not at the moment. I sense that one will appear downriver shortly, but the spot is not close.”
“I will jump, healers, with you in my arms,” Remiel suggested.
“I think I am too weak to jump, but I can climb down,” Barakiel said.
The Sylvan Three nodded. “Please do not drop us, commander.”
Remiel chuckled. “Please make sure you hold on.”
“Can you conceal us, Pellus, from up here on the plateau, should it become necessary?” Barakiel asked.
“Yes, that is a simple matter,” Pellus said. “Although, as far as I can tell, there is not a human within miles of this place.”
“That will likely change later in the day,” Zan said. “How long do you expect to be in the healing trance, Three?”
“It is hard to say, Zanogara. We have no experience using this force of nature. It is safe to predict we will need to stay within the water’s power until your star once again breaks the horizon. At this moment, the tall ones celebrate the star’s arrival. The tall ones have great power here, along with the life that winds among their limbs. We should stay in the healing trance until we can share in their celebration, and in the joy of all the creatures here when this realm turns enough to reveal their star to them. So many creatures! We can feel them, hear them, and smell them. This energy will join with the water’s power.”
“You see how nature loves the Three,” Barakiel said. “They will succeed. They must.”
With that, Remiel hoisted the healers, who wound their arms around her neck. She leaped off the edge of the plateau, landed on a rock fifty yards or so from the base of the falls, then made her way toward the furious cascade with the Sylvan Three. Before long, they were barely visible through the churning mist.
“Amazing,” Zan said. Barakiel kissed her, as soft as a water droplet.
“Balance willing, our next kiss will be different.”
“Balance willing.”
He walked to the edge of the promontory, grabbed the rim of the rock, and flipped down. He hung there for a moment then let himself fall into the thick vegetation on a lip of earth fifty meters below, scattering a collection of colorful birds. His descent was easy then, with ample handholds. Once at the base he walked over to Remiel and the Three while sweeping insects off his limbs.
“I will rejoin the others,” Remiel said. “Good luck, Three.” She nodded towards them. “Barakiel.” She grasped his shoulder and he returned the gesture. “May the Guardians be with you.”
Remiel turned and ran into the thick foliage to begin her ascent. Barakiel addressed the healers as they all disrobed. “You see that fissure in the rock, Three? We can use it to get behind the falls where I can enter the flow. Let me carry you across the river.”
Though the raging water pushed at his legs, it felt wonderful, temperate and silky. The Three, whose legs were also submerged, laughed to feel it caress their skin. When they reached the rocks, the healers picked their delicate way to the fissure and crept inside. Barakiel did not need to protect himself completely, but he needed to grip the rock to keep from being swept under the falls.
Deep in the fissure, the Three pressed back into a narrow space between the deluge and the rock, their luminous silver eyes all Barakiel could see in the wavering light. “I will go under,” he said. With a deep breath, he stepped into the pounding column of water. He nearly lost his footing before he braced himself against a tumble of rock. Amid the roar, he tried to quiet himself, inside, so the energy of the crashing water could make him its vessel. He remembered a dark sea, the Destructive Realm, and his father leaping into a vast black reservoir of power. Within the terror and death of this memory, he sensed something else, unmistakable—a shimmering cloud gathering in the darkness.
I feel it now. Creation comes to dance with Destruction. Balance willing, the Three will know. They must know.
He thrust his arm towards the back of the fissure. He hoped the Three could see it.
They did. When the healers wrapped their hands around his forearm, their energy sought him, singing with the thundering water, hot and tingly along his spine. Images played in his mind of organisms, microscopic, but that collided with the deep sounds of drums. The Three entered his mind. They didn’t speak but told him somehow that he should lie down under the water, tuck himself between the rocks and sleep, it was time for him to sleep under their care, shrouded in the power of that place.
Barakiel crouched and was nearly swept away. With grunting effort, he drew rocks toward himself. The skin on his hands shredded and the pressure of the water assaulted his ears, a painful thrumming that overrode the wild beating of his heart. The water with its mineral tang invaded his nose, forced its way down his throat. Finally, he managed to lie flat, half-covered by boulders, the falls pummeling his limbs. Terrified, he wondered if he would survive. He reached out, arm flailing, seeking the Three’s touch. And then it was back, hot and tingly and benevolent. The heavy thump of the water on his body now seemed like a rigorous massage, his breath was replaced by water, acceptance of the power all around him. In his mind’s eye, he saw green things sprouting, curling, reaching, enveloping, until the water’s roar faded to a whisper and he lost consciousness.
Within the ring of blue fire the forces dance, around and around, the endless black of the Void and the burning light of the cosmos, changing, ever-changing, the only constant is change as nothing becomes something becomes death becomes life, flowing through particles that have lost their coherence, scattered by terror, they spread wide, wide, the bonds stretch too thin, something becomes nothing becomes life become death. I will die. I.
I. I am. I am something. The bonds do not break. She is something, the bond that does not break. I am within the blue fire, beholden to her. She beholden to me. The blue fire is me. What am I?
Again, the sun rose over the jungle, bringing with it a cacophony. To Zan, it was the sound of a million creatures laughing. At her, her anxiety and fear. Rainer and the Sylvan Three had not emerged from the waterfall at dawn the previous day as expected, and here it was dawn again with no sign of them. Pellus sat beside her, wan and motionless. Remiel paced, every so often throwing concerned looks their way, her black eyes soft with worry.
“Godammit!” Zan said. She picked up a rock and smashed it to the ground, again and again, scraping the skin off her knuckles.
Are they even alive in there? Why can’t I feel him?
She scrambled to her feet, sure bugs were crawling on her, her thin patience fried, a frenetic current charging the edges of her awareness. She screamed, held it, a scream longer and louder than any she had ever delivered from a stage while holding a guitar. Birds wheeled away from the promontory, the jungle creatures stopping their laughing. Zan’s vision went gray then transformed to darkness and light that flashed by so quickly she vomited and fell to her hands and knees. She was vaguely aware of Pellus and Remiel, their hands on her back. And then it came. The power. Her mate. Rainer.
“They’re coming. They’re coming!” She leaped to her feet and rushed to the edge of the promontory to see Rainer emerge from the water with the Sylvan Three in his arms, his movement parting clouds of luminous mist. Zan couldn’t tell if the dawn had set the mist aglow, or her mate. The jungle creatures resumed their raucous cries, their laughter replaced by a chorus of joy.
When Rainer reached the rocks a safe distance from the falls he set down the healers, looked up at Zan, and growled. She shouldn't have been able to hear it over the din of the falls. She shouldn't have been able to feel it among the vibrating rocks, yet she did.
Oh, boy.
“They did it,” Zan said. “The Three have restored him to Balance.”
Pellus and Remiel spoke to her, but she wasn’t listening, completely focused on Rainer as he strode to a spot below the promontory, dove into the thick vegetation at its base, and popped up in front of her a moment later.
“Unless you want to watch,” he said, “I suggest you leave.”
Although he hadn’t removed his burning eyes from Zan’s face, she knew he was talking to the others.
“You are restored!” Pellus veritably skipped along the ledge in a rare display of enthusiasm. “Tell us how—”
“Pellus,” Rainer said. The adept stopped his cavorting. Remiel grabbed him and leaped off the promontory, presumably to join the Sylvan Three. Rainer grinned under smoldering eyes then stalked toward Zan like the jaguars that called that place home. Her body quivered. She was terrified. She’d never been so turned on in her life.
Lips parted, breathing heavy, he framed her face with his fingers. Zan stared into his eyes, mesmerized. Rainer’s irises were crystals of blue, a lattice of circular perfection, intricate and deep. She saw no pain, no doubt, no guilt. She saw the Turning, its energy, gorgeous and ancient. Balanced. She knew instinctively that Rainer was more than he had been, or had let himself be. He crushed his mouth to hers, his hands playing over her back. With a spasm, she wrapped her arms around his waist. She slid her hands to his naked ass and pulled his hips against her.
His kiss eased. He stepped back to yank off her clothing before taking her mouth again, so hungry that Zan had to break away to catch her breath. He squeezed her as she luxuriated in the power that danced beneath his skin, raced through his nerves. She’d never been able to feel it like this before.
The jungle chorus grew louder as the sun climbed higher in the sky, touching off bits of rainbow in prisms of mist from the falls. Zan’s heart sang with love and her body with lust as Rainer’s hand explored her breasts, her belly, her thighs.
He growled with raw power, a wildness in his eyes, the embrace of Destruction. She closed her eyes as his mouth ravaged her lips, her neck. Blood-red flowers bloomed under her closed lids, intimations of violence. Yet he mastered it. For her. She knew this, a kind of knowing she’d never experienced before, like a blade’s edge cutting into her consciousness. Part of him was capable of breaking her body with passion, a part balanced with reverence for the trust she’d placed in him. His hands and mouth moved over her skin, urgent and joyful, to please her, to bring her with him, to inspire a lust in her that would match his own.
I love you. I’ll answer you with the gift you need.
She pushed him down onto the rock of the promontory, climbed on top of him, took his tip and rubbed herself while he stared at her with furious lust, the blue crystal lattice of his eyes taking her deeper and deeper until she couldn’t even hear the jungle anymore, just felt the blood rushing in her as she prepared to accept him. She lowered herself, slowly. His breath caught, his hips spasmed. She knew he wanted to spear her in a violent surge, but she held him back, savored every bit of his length as she pressed onto him. Once she was filled, she kissed him, sucked on his lip, gently rocked.
“Show me what you are,” she whispered.
Another growl, a huff of amusement, then a gravity-defying thrust of his hips that raised them from the ground. He held her against him and pumped with such abandon that she lost track of where his body ended and hers began. She came on a rolling wave of sweetness and heat, crying out like a child of the jungle. She opened her eyes to gaze at his beautiful face, glistening with sweat. His eyes were closed, his mouth set in a faint smile that told her he was where he wanted to be. Where he belonged. These thoughts made her body ruffle and begin all over again. She concentrated on his thickness, his enormous hands on her ass, holding her suspended, the friction of their skin, the earthy smell of his desire, his lips and tongue on her neck. Again, she came for him.
“Give it to me,” she said.
He crushed his forehead to her chest, spun her around, and pushed her into the vines growing on the embankment behind them. While leaves tickled her face, he shoved into her. His low, smooth growl grew jagged as he picked up speed. Breathless, he talked to her. “I see us, Zan, ah, when I am inside you, uh, ah, our love is bondage, our love is freedom.” With a long shudder, he came, and she sailed on his power, the warmth that spread from her womb through her core and into her limbs to flutter there, renewing her pleasure.
“Oh, mmmmmmm,” was all she managed to say. Rainer gently pulled her from the vines. He swung her body to cradle her. He lay down. She stretched herself along his length.
“You rose above it, Rainer. All of it. You rose above him.”
“Yes.”
They lay serene and motionless until Rainer dipped his head to give her a long, luxurious lick along the hollow of her throat. The sensation transported Zan back to the first time he’d loved her, the night she’d learned the wonderful possibilities of his flesh. A delicious tingling drove through her, became more intense as Rainer’s tongue traveled downward.
“Oh, good lord,” she whispered. He chuckled.
“Do I make you weak?”
“Yes.” Another breathless whisper.
“I’m glad I’m the only one who can.”