Love and Magick

Chapter 7 The masked rider barely looked at the trail in front the horse, intent instead on the trees and shrubs that hemmed it in. Suddenly someone leapt from a tree just in front and grasped the bridle. Steel clashed on steel as the rider did battle with the one who tried to wrest control of the horse. The rider’s pure black garments contrasted with the green of the opponent. The rider’s speed and agility made short work of the slower brute force of the one on the ground. “Enough!” he suddenly shouted letting go of the bridle. The rider lightly vaulted to the ground and faced the opponent sketching an impertinent little salute with the sword. The left hand lifted and pulled off the mask revealing a mass of black curls that tumbled over her shoulders with a life of their own. “Well done Jamie, you almost had me this time,” she saluted. “Sure Jade, and that stallion you’re riding is white”, he said stroking Zeus’s glossy black mane. Jade giggled, the amusement in her green eyes firing Jamie’s own. In the two years she had known him a bond of deep trust and loyalty had been born. Like two orphan children identifying kindred spirits they had begun a friendship that fateful day two years ago when Jade had changed the course of his future (with Lady Hawthorne’s help). In the clean and quiet country, under the loving care of a unique woman they had both bloomed into adults quite unlike that which they could have been. They owed the Lady of the house a lot – and they both knew it. Jade’s tumbled curls and glowing skin, her clear green eyes and radiance were all a testimony to the loving care she had received. Jamie was more that just a ‘stable hand’ to Lady Hawthorne as well. Recognising intuitively that his was also a rare personality and that it might help Jade’s confidence to include another beginner, she had spontaneously included him in Jade’s and Cyndy’s tuition. He rode with them, did math and history and studied languages with them, fenced and studied philosophy. However, he adamantly refused to partake of the music and etiquette lessons, a fact which lady Hawthorne definitely understood (having hated them herself at their age). He also insisted in working as much as possible to pay for his keep. As expected the fact that she was not the only one who had to catch up to Cyndy made Jade more comfortable. Lady Hawthorne had no qualms about admitting to herself that the two young people she had taken in had a much greater aptitude for learning than her own daughter. Both had devoured years of learning in month’s, thirsting minds had taken in as much as their tutors could impart. The most positive side-effect to date was that Cyndy had actually become more studious and competed outrageously with the other two. The three had become fast friends and were inseparable most of the time. On this rare balmy afternoon when Jade and Jamie were away from Cyndy they had time to continue with their plans. Lady Hawthorne and Cyndy had gone to tea at a neighbours’. The two had decided to practice their swordplay under cover of the trees. “Do you think we’re ready then?” she asked. Jamie raked a hand through his ash blonde hair, violet eyes regarding her intently. “Are you sure you want to do this Jade?” he asked, “You’ve accomplished so much, are you sure you want to risk losing it all?” “What have I accomplished Jamie? Am I supposed to measure my success by the number of concertos I can play on the piano? …or the number of algebraic equations I can solve? …or the number of languages I can speak?…or the number of dresses I own? What about all the others who are like me as I was just two years ago? Helpless innocents?” her intent green eyes glared into his. “You know that ever since I heard of this mysterious Baron I have had no choice! So will you meet me tonight? As we planned?” Jamie nodded, knowing that while he disliked the risks she was about to take, there was a part of him that believed he had no choice. From the moment she’d outlined her plan he had admired and respected her all the more for it. This plan had been in the making for the last two years. In fact, he reflected, it had probably been in the making from the time she had been taken to Madame Witherspoon’s establishment. “Time?” he asked. “As soon as I know everyone is abed, I’ll signal you,” she responded, “In the meantime, we’d better get back. Lady Hawthorne and Cyndy should be back any time now.” Chapter 18 Finavara, king of the Irish Connaught Tuatha dé Danann and consort of Onagh, prowled his domain. He hated what the long absences from his realm did to him. They diminished him in a way that only a Tuatha dé Danann could understand. He felt stretched thin, yet compressed into a minute space…hungry and thirsty yet unable to eat…in need of companionship yet unable to stand anyone’s presence…unable to sit or stand or lie comfortably… He cursed the day they had conceded to this ridiculous bargain with the humans. Cursed the fact that he was forced to stay in this realm, with its sameness…. He hated the fact that he knew each Fae and each Fae knew him... Hated that they did the same things and danced the same dances, ate the same food and sang the same songs…Paradise they had and Paradise was utterly and totally boring! He felt even his hatred slipping! All emotion quickly became blurred in this realm. How he had scorned the petty humans on that long ago day! He had thought them beneath his notice, even as the Elders spoke of a time when even the mighty Tuatha dé Danann were as the humans were then. As he had watched them over the centuries his scorn had eventually become replaced by disbelief and that too soon gave way to a reluctant fascination. Soon came the day when their tangled lives reached out enough to lure him to their realm. The first few times the entry had been so intense it was painful, as he was bombarded by emotions he could not remember ever having. On those occasions he had not been able to stay long. No more than the blink of an eye in his time or a night of theirs. Those visits were as a drug to him. Addictive beyond belief… Soon he learned to push the limits of his endurance… until a night became two and then a week and then a month… The entry into their realm was as painful as the withdrawal. He played within very specific boundaries. As long as he did not really interfere there was no price to be paid for going outside their realm – none save his pain. And over time he had gradually begun to even relish the pain. It was a reminder that he was not dead. HE could still feel, although no other Fae would choose to. Then had come The Night. It was so christened in his mind because it stood out above all other. The first night he came face to face with a real human female. She had stared in astonishment at him, this frail creature come to fetch a jug of water from the edge of the stream. He marvelled still at the way the human females had gained a suppleness and grace that now set them apart from the males. If the Elders were right (and he had begun to believe those old fools really did know what they were talking about) - soon the males would begin to look more and more like the females, until all were androgynous. Like the Fae. For now only a slight difference set the males and females of the Tuatha dé Danann apart from each other. He had long ago excused himself for what had happened that night. She had approached him after all. It had only taken one touch of her slender fingers upon his hand to ignite such a feeling of lust in him that he had been unable to help himself. He had not realised he seduced her. Not until they had both lain sated. The mists of passion had cleared from his mind and gaze and he had recognised the empty look in her eyes. A look he had seen once as he observed a human be hypnotized by another human. After a few encounters such as these, he had realised there must be something in the depths of his