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From: john_dark@anon.nymserver.com
Subject: {GrayMouser}JDR"Mystical Wish A"( MF fant f-solo )[1/2]
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JOHN DARK REPOST
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=====================
Mystical Wish
Gray Mouser
the.gray.mouser@f750.n154.z1.fidonet.org
"He knows how much you really want him.
He knows just what you want him to do."
- Tony Banks
Section A:
The forest lay blanketed under the shroud of night, lightly kissed by
the soft glow of the full moon above. A lone figure stole quietly through
the thick brush, carefully moving the branches out of its path as it made
its way towards the small clearing in the forest's center. Stopping
abruptly, it studied the ground ahead of it for a moment before taking a
short hop forward.
"Bless the Lady for her gentle light!" the cloaked elf whispered with
a smile as he took a quick glimpse of the moon overhead. His eyes returned
to the ground and he shook his head sadly as he regarded the concealed
snare he had just escaped. "The humans are a cowardly race," he thought
sourly. "A poor hunter would kill an animal without first looking him in
the eye." Pulling his small knife from his belt, he carefully sliced the
snare from the thin cord holding down the sapling. With a *whoosh* of
rustling leaves the tree stood back up quickly. Sheathing the knife, he
walked to the tree and examined the cracked bark where the tree had been
bent. He shook his head again and bound the tree tightly with the leather
thong that had been the snare. The wound closed, he nodded happily and
continued his trek.
His mind returned to his quest and he went over the legends in his
mind. The old woman he spoke with had told him tales of a great mystic, one
who had traveled the world and learned its many secrets. It was said he
could work miracles, conjuring great magicks that could heal the mind and
soul or just as easily destroy them. The elements bent to his whim and he
held mastery over angels and demons alike. These powers held no interest
for the young elf, however, as he was content to be only a dabbler in
forest magic. The one thing that *had* piqued his interest was what she had
told him next. The mystic knew of the intricate workings of the spirit,
specifically the bond formed between man and woman. This was the knowledge
he sought, the answer to the nagging questions that plagued his every
waking moment.
* * *
Chakyna.
His heart beat fiercely in his chest just thinking of her name. Ever
since he had met her, his thoughts revolved around this elven maiden sent
from the heavens to throw his entire world into turmoil. His life had been
blessedly simple before that, his days filled with happy journeys through
his beloved forest, tending the trees and their many inhabitants. The
animals knew him and called him friend. He frequented the neighbouring
villages and all who knew him spoke favourably of him, as he was always
quick with a helping hand or a gentle smile.
Several moons ago he had been helping the father of a new family to
the area build their small house. They had worked feverishly, hoping to
finish the dwelling before the short but brutal winter season started in
earnest. He was installing the heavy shutters on the windows alone that day
while the father, Thorash by name, went to pick up his family who had been
staying with friends during the building. Picking up the heavy oaken
shutter, his muscles strained as he moved it into position on the window.
Suddenly a cool hand tapped him on the shoulder from behind, startling him.
The shutter slipped from his hands and came crashing down upon his foot. He
cursed loudly and fell to the ground, clutching his injury. Spinning around
to find the culprit, he raised his eyes and above him stood a vision in
peasant's clothes. Her long silvery hair streamed over her slight shoulders
like the wind flowing through the trees at night. Delicate hands held a
small pitcher to her chest, almost hiding her smallish breasts from view.
Flashing violet eyes looked down at him and her slim pouting lips curled
into a small grin. "I'm sorry I frightened you, sir," she said, her voice a
melody known only to the angels. "Father suggested I bring you some water."
He sat there, completely oblivious to her words, captivated by her
exquisite beauty. Suddenly a loud voice shouted, "Chakyna! What happened?"
She turned and replied, "He dropped the shutter. I think he may be
hurt."
The sound of a man running was followed by a familiar voice saying,
"Greywind! Are you alright?" The man reached him and extended his hand down
to him.
Greywind took the hand and stood gingerly, never once removing his
staring gaze from the elven maiden. "I am fine, friend Thorash," he said
quietly. "I was just... startled."
Thorash had taken note of the young elf's fascination and he smiled
knowingly. "All the same, why don't you take a rest? You might want to soak
that foot in the river a space to keep it from swelling."
Finally tearing his eyes from her, Greywind smiled at his friend. "An
excellent idea." He started off but as soon as he put his weight onto his
injured foot he stumbled and fell to the ground with a grunt of pain.
Thorash carefully helped him up and was struck by a sudden thought.
"Chakyna, please help Greywind to the river. I must finish helping your
mother unload the wagon." Thorash lifted Greywind's arm from around his
neck and before Greywind could protest his arm was draped across the
beautiful girl's shoulders. He stared into her wide eyes as he heard
Thorash's voice call out as he ran back to the wagon, "Dinner will be in a
few hours, but take as much time as you need to heal yourself!"
Greywind stared helplessly into the twin pools of her eyes, unable to
break their mystical hold on him. His mouth opened and he managed to blurt
out, "My name is Greywind."
"So I heard," her voice chimed back with an amused air. "And mine is
Chakyna, as you have heard."
"Lovely," he whispered.
She blushed faintly and said, "I must apologize for father. He takes
great joy lately in pushing me upon any man within reach." Her hand swept
back her hair, revealing her daintily-pointed ears.
"I do not mind," Greywind breathed, shivering slightly as her hair
brushed against his bare chest. Suddenly he realized his condition and he
stammered, "I'm terribly sorry! I should put on my shirt."
"Why?" she asked lightly.
"I've been working all day. I must simply reek! I...," he babbled,
wishing suddenly that the ground would open under him and hide him from
her.
"Silly man," she giggled. "I am no stranger to hard labour. I've found
that work brings out the true essence of one." Sniffing deeply, she
continued, "From yours I can tell you are honest and kind. That should be
shared, not covered up."
His eyes widened as he took in her words and he asked, "Are you a
mystic?"
"Not fully, but mother has taught me a bit. Come, we should go to the
river. Your foot has already started to swell." He looked down and saw the
top of his foot bulging against the doeskin shoes he wore and he nodded
quickly.
A few minutes later Greywind was sitting upon a large rock and
removing his shoe gingerly. As he feared, his foot was now considerably
swollen and was throbbing painfully. He eased it into the water and sighed
happily.
"Better?" she asked.
"A little," he replied. Noting the lazily-flowing waters of the
stream, he said, "The dry summer has slowed the river. My foot will have to
soak for quite a while at this rate." Thinking a moment, he smiled and
said, "Perhaps I can speed it along." Reaching his hand into the cool
water, he closed his eyes and envisioned the waters rushing past. The flow
increased dramatically and he smiled as they chilled his injured foot.
"A forest mage, hmmm?" he heard her voice whisper incredulously.
"Not really," he answered without opening his eyes. "I learned some
things from a man I grew up with. He was..." His voice broke off as he
suddenly overbalanced, toppling headlong into the river. His body drenched
by the icy waters, he bolted upright and shrieked but then stopped abruptly
as he heard Chakyna's laughter. He stared at her fiercely before relenting
and chuckling along with her. He limped back out of the river and sat down
beside her. "I can't believe I did that," he mumbled in embarrassment.
"Well you *did* want to wash up before, yes?" she said with a mad
grin.
Looking back at her sparkling eyes, he nodded. "But not *quite* like
that!" he said, waving his hand at the river. Water splashed from his
dripping arm, sprinkling her face lightly. He gasped and apologized,
reaching for her and saying, "I'm so sorry! Here, let me..." As his hand
brushed her cheek, his body stiffened. He stared at her fearfully, as if
she were a deadly snake about to strike. She purred softly at his touch and
pressed her cheek into his hand. His heart beat wildly, causing his blood
to race frantically throughout his body, at last finding his manhood and
causing it to lurch madly inside his leggings.
She closed her eyes and continued to nuzzle his unmoving hand, saying
softly, "You are truly a gentle and noble man. I can tell. Please, don't
stop."
His mind raced, "Stop what? I've no idea what I've *started*!"
Summoning his last bit of strength, he pulled his hand away guiltily.
Her eyes opened and she asked, "What's wrong?"
"M... my foot," he stuttered. "It's..." He looked down at his foot and
was actually relieved to see that it had resumed its swelling now that it
was outside the cool stream.
She looked at it and frowned slightly. Looking at him, she asked,
"Might I try to heal it?"
"How?" he asked, being carefully not to make eye contact with her.
"Something mother taught me once. I could try it, if you'll let me."
Without answering, he lifted his leg and placed the injured foot
before her. "What should I do?" he asked.
"Just be quiet," she said with a smile that went unseen. Grasping his
cold foot in her slim warm hands, she said, "Relax." Closing her eyes, she
started to sing a song in a language he had never heard before, a trilling
melody that reminded him of the joyous song of the birds during the spring
mating. Her voice sent shivers through his body as his eyes lifted and
locked on her angelic face. His stare caressed the soft light skin of her
cheeks, down along the delicate jaw then up over her slightly moist lips.
Her song continued as did his visual exploration, up over her small nose to
her closed eyes. Her eyelids fluttered slightly as she sang, brushing her
long eyelashes over the tops of her cheeks. Suddenly her song ended and her
eyes opened wide, catching him in their all-encompassing power. He felt
like he was falling deeper and deeper into the very soul of this magical
woman, trapped forever in her bewitching gaze. "How does it feel?" he heard
her voice whisper.
Unconsciously he replied, "How does what feel?"
She giggled and said, "Your foot, silly!" running a finger up across
the sole of his foot for emphasis.
His leg twitched as she tickled him and the spell was broken for a
space. He laughed and pulled his foot back towards himself to inspect it.
Much to his amazement, it was no longer swollen and the pain was gone.
Picking his leg up slightly, he wiggled his toes and whispered, "It doesn't
hurt at all!"
"I'm glad," she said with a satisfied smile. Placing a hand on his
thigh, she absently stroked his leg and leaned close to him. "Perhaps you
could find a way to thank me?" she asked playfully.
Greywind's mind exploded in confusion. "Wh... what would you like?" he
asked hesitantly.
Reaching forward, her other hand trailed down the center of his slick
bare chest. Her warm breath tickled his ear and she cooed, "I'm sure you'll
think of something."
Unfortunately for Greywind, thinking was the *last* thing his mind was
capable of at that moment. Bolting to his feet, he blurted, "I have to
change my clothes."
"What?" she asked in disbelief. "But..."
His swift feet had already sprung into action and he called back,
"Tell your father I will be back to help him finish the shutters shortly,"
as he raced through the forest towards the small clearing that was his only
home. Intent on putting as much distance between himself and Chakyna as
possible, he barely heard her calling out after him, "Greywind! Come back!"
* * *
"You were a fool for just leaving her there like that," he berated
himself for what must have been the hundredth time today. Thinking back, he
reminded himself yet again that staying wouldn't have solved the problem
which had caused him to flee in the first place.
He had no idea exactly *what* Chakyna wanted.
His mind wandered back to distant memories of his childhood. The
loving golden-haired woman and the strong dark-haired man came to mind,
shadows of his parents that his memory could no longer form proper pictures
of. A familiar chill raced through him as he relived that day, coming home
after spending the night unknown to them in his beloved forest only to find
them both murdered in their sleep by unknown assassins for the few gold
coins they had. He remembered his future mentor, Steelhawk, walking in the
door several hours later to explore the burned-out wreck of a shack and
finding him huddled in the corner crying hysterically. Steelhawk took him
as a traveling companion and was both father and teacher to him from that
day forward. They had parted company some three years ago by mutual
decision, one which Greywind now regretted as he longed for the one lesson
his friend had neglected to teach him.
He wished desperately to know what to do with the fairer sex.
In his twenty-two years he had seen numerous displays of affection
between men and women during his travels with Steelhawk, but the greatest
mystery of all still eluded him. Why did his body react that way when he
and Chakyna got close? Why did Chakyna look at him that way, and exactly
*what* did she want of him? These questions tugged at his mind constantly
all through the winter. He had visited his friend Thorash and his family
several times, and each time he was overwhelmed with the same feelings
whenever he saw her. His heart beat fiercely and his words seemed to stick
in his throat. Ever since their first encounter by the stream, he was
always careful *never* to be alone with her for fear that he would
inadvertently do something wrong and offend this fair maiden whose beauty
called to him during the day and filled his dreams at night.
His silent cry for help was answered one day in early spring in the
unexpected form of an elderly blind woman named Shrilahr. He had bumped
into her, quite literally, one afternoon as he strolled through the
marketplace of a neighbouring village. Helping her back to her feet, he
gathered her day's purchases and carried them back to her humble cottage.
They had talked along the way and she had coaxed his problems out of him.
She told him of the legend of the great mystic and how he helped those who
needed him. "Go to the center of the forest, my boy," she had told him, "on
the first night of the spring moon. Wish for him and he will appear as the
moon reaches her peak. You'll see."
"First night of the spring moon," he repeated as his mind returned to
the present. "Now."
Reaching the clearing at last, he looked over it and nodded happily.
This had been his home for the last three years, after he had quit the
wandering life with Steelhawk. With the bits of forest magic he had learned
from him, life here was quite comfortable. The animals kept him aware of
the happenings in the forest and he in turn kept them safe from the
encroaching menace of the humans. A chittering sounded and he turned to see
a young chipmunk looking up at him inquisitively. He smiled and made a
series of chirps, which the chipmunk answered. Nodding, he waved his hand
and chittered once. His small friend scurried off to its burrow and he
wondered, "So no one has been around. I wonder what is keeping him."
Vaulting up into the lower branches of a nearby tree, he started to
pull himself upwards. "Perhaps I can get a better look around," he thought.
Suddenly the many noises of the night started to dwindle. The owl in the
next tree who had been hooting madly until this point fell deathly silent,
as did the pair of possums making their way through the brush. The wind
itself seemed to blow itself out and the unnatural calm caused a chill to
race up Greywind's spine. Then, without warning, he saw it.
Looking down from his perch, he saw the bushes surrounding the far
side of the clearing part themselves. Through the newly-formed gap floated
a thin figure clad in a flowing black robe. Greywind's sharp eyes detected
no movement below his robe and he pondered, "He moves without walking?" The
figure levitated to the center of the clearing and appeared to descend
slightly as it touched the ground. Suddenly a chittering noise broke the
eerie silence as Greywind's chipmunk friend returned. The black-clad figure
chuckled softly and turned towards it, bending down and extending a thin,
wraithlike hand. Without hesitation the chipmunk hopped onto the withered
palm. The hand raised before the cloaked face and a quiet conversation
started as chirps and squeaks were exchanged. The cloaked one turned its
head and seemed to look at something before chittering an instruction. The
chipmunk bounded off its hand and across the clearing to pick up a small
object in its mouth which it brought back to the mystic.
Greywind watched intently as the mystic took the item from the
chipmunk before dismissing it with a quick chirp. A male voice intoned,
"The roots of love," as his hand raised the object up to appraise it by the
soft glow of the moon. Held between skeletal thumb and forefinger, Greywind
saw a familiar item - a small heart carved from sandalwood. This one was an
earlier imperfect version of the one he had...
The one he had made for Chakyna.
=====================
Mystical Wish
Gray Mouser
Section A
-30-
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