To more fully enjoy this story in living, breathing HTML, please visit our website at: /~vivian Now offering over 140,000 words of pure prurience! -------------------------------------------------------- Sangrelysia by Vivian Darkbloom The Secret Cave "Welcome to the northern sanctuary," I announced. From one of the countless pockets in the magical robe I wore, I drew out an illumination globe. The globe washed the ledge and the cave in a clear, soft light that rendered everything into perfect visibility but without any harshness or glare. I left it floating midair. Sylvia pouted with her inimitable air of sarcastic disdain. I knew that she was only being impossible because she was upset, and that the sensible course of action would be to let it play out now, then discuss it later. "This?" she pointed at the cave with fresh disgust. It was a shallow cave, choked with cobwebs and dust. In the back corner lay a few ancient ceramic urns. I chuckled. "Think you can open it?" She frowned. "What's the magic word?" "Let's see if you can find it." She perked up a bit at the challenge, studying the scene for a minute or two, then brushing the cobwebs back from one of the urns, and struggled for a minute with the lid, before she thought of using the opening spell I had taught her the week before. The lid popped off into her hand, and she reached into pull out the scroll curled up inside. It had only two words written on it: " `God is.' -- that's it?" she queried incredulously. In response, the rear wall of the cave slid into a new formation as a door, which featured in its middle a brass knocker in the shape of a duck with a nosering, or a `bill-ring' as I guess you would call it. "What's the big idea, lady, waking me up from a fine nap like that?! This had better be important!" "A talking duck?" she demanded, even more incredulously. "I was bored," I replied. "Look, you can change it if you like." "But, a duck?!" "Lady, it's not my fault I was born this way. Why, I've high ambitions. I'm studying to be an opera singer!" It began massacring the Habanera from Carmen: "L'amour est un oiseau rebelle que nul ne peut apprivoiser. . ." "Trust me, it beats the paperclip." I assured her, interrupting the aria with: "Hey! That's enough already. You better stop before your voice quacks." Indignant, the duck pouted. "Everybody's a comedian now, ain't they. Nobody understands true talent. . ." "And," I continued, "she's with me, so you can just let us in now, and furthermore you can let the Princess in any time she wants." The duck-head did a double take, nosering crazily flopping about, craning its neck with feigned astonishment. "Why, it's the wizard. Gosh I hadn't noticed you standing there." "Yes you had, but you just can't resist harassing someone when they're standing in front of you. So, for about the fifth time, would you please open up and let us in." "Why, of course. Yes sir!" it quacked irreverently. As the door gave way we entered, shutting gently behind us. I shook my head. The things we put up with for security. I brought the lighting globe in with us, and quenched it as the interior globes sprung into luminosity. The place had the smell of long stillness, of silent anticipation, waiting in patient calm for us to enter and stir the air, freshen the interior with our voices and laughter. With the familiar sense of home, the highly pitched tension that had been sustaining me deflated, leaving enormous exhaustion to hit me like an anvil. I was completely dead beat and sore with fatigue and fever. With my last ounce of remaining strength, I led Sylvia downstairs to the guest room. "I think you can find everything," I said. "Good night." "Good night," she called after me as I re-ascended the stairs, up into the upstairs bedroom, where I collapsed on the enormous bed that sprawled in the center of the room, immediately sinking into a deep dreamless sleep. Some time later I awoke in total darkness, momentarily uncertain of my surroundings, only knowing that I felt a warmth against my back. I turned over, drawing her into my arms, feeling her warm naked body against mine "I couldn't sleep," she said. "You're not wearing anything," I commented. She giggled. "Neither are you, I notice. "I'm so glad you're with me," I replied. Never having slept together before at night like this, we lay entwined in novel stillness, sharing the joy of union, the mesmerising softness of skin, the assurance of human contact. Gradually drifting off to sleep, I heard her call out quietly: "I love you." I murmured something similar in reply, or at least I hope it was similar, as my consciousness had faded almost completely by then. Chapter 15 _______________________________________________________ For more stories, please visit our site: /~vivian