Elizabeth Haydon - Rhapsody - Child of Blood

He was aware as he watched them of the seriousness of this festive ritual. Despite the light mood there was an undertone of solemnity, of portent, that was palpable. In a community such as this, mating and the propagation of families was essential to its survival.

Gwydion left the area around the meeting hall, looking to find a dark place where the stars were visible. He was well versed in astronomy, and suspected that he would be able to discern where he was once he got a clear look at the night sky.

The lantern-light played havoc with the visibility, and he needed to get a good ways away before he was able to see anything. When he finally could, it didn’t help much. He didn’t recognize any of the constellations, or even a single star. A very bright one hung deep in the sky by the horizon, but even that was unknown to him.

He felt a cold wave of fear wash over him. Until now he had expected that it would be relatively simple to navigate home once he had ascertained where he was. But if even the stars were foreign, he was much farther away than he had originally thought, though the season was certainly the same as the one where he had been. Nothing was making sense. Gwydion sat down on a bank of barrels and fought the panic that was rising in his throat.

Across the road a slight movement caught his attention, and he turned to look. Someone was moving behind the identical bank of barrels that lined the roadway, crouching low and peering over the tops of them toward the meeting hall. Gwydion decided to investigate. He had left much of his gear back at the farmhouse, but he still had his dagger, and he drew it now and ran silently across the road, circling around behind the line of barrels.

When he was in position he rose carefully and rested one hand on a barrel, looking around it to spot the intruder. To his surprise it was a young woman, hiding behind the line of barrels and watching the comings and goings of the crowd.

He couldn’t see her face. She had long straight hair with just a hint of a wave to it, and it hung like a silken sheet down her back. In the dark it appeared to be the color of pale flax, and Gwydion was struck by the desire to run his hand down it.

He reached out and instead tapped her on the shoulder. She started and gasped, reeling around to face him and nearly toppling the empty barrels into the road.

The look of shock on her face did nothing to diminish his instantaneous impression that she was undoubtedly the fairest thing he had ever seen. Her face was delicately formed, with large, dark eyes fringed with black lashes and an upper lip shaped like a longbow. Unlike the other young women at the party, she was clearly of mixed blood, as he was, and thin. As she backed up toward the barrels her hair fell over her shoulders, obscuring much of her upper body and the corsage of flowers that adorned her breast.

“Don’t be frightened,” Gwydion said as gently as he could. “I’m sorry if I startled you.”

The girl took a deep breath, and her enormous eyes ran rapidly over his face. She blinked abruptly, as if trying to clear away sudden stinging tears. It took a long moment for her to be able to respond, and when she did the wonder in her voice made his stomach tighten with excitement.

“You’re Lirin,” she said. The words held as much awe as he had ever heard uttered before.

“Yes, partly; you are, too?”

She nodded slowly.

Gwydion coughed to cover the flush he felt creeping into his face. “Uhm, are there many of you, I mean, Lirin, around here?”

“No,” she said, and the amazement was still in her voice. “Except for my mother and brothers, you are the first I have ever seen. Who are you?”

Gwydion thought about how to answer her. He wanted more than anything to tell her the truth, but he wasn’t sure himself what that was.

“I’m called Sam,” he said simply. “What about you?”

The young woman smiled for the first time, and Gwydion felt a strange stirring he had never experienced before. It was heady, and frightening, and dizzying all at once, and he was not sure that the control he normally had over his face or voice was still in place.

“Emily,” she said, and then she looked behind her. Two young men were approaching, bantering between themselves, and looking around the area. The young woman backed up, almost into him, and then ducked quickly behind the barrels again. Gwydion sat down next to her, hidden from view as well.

Together they watched as the men searched around, looking down the dry dirt road and over the neighboring fields. Just then the music started, amid a swelling of laughter and applause from inside, and the men turned back toward the hall. Emily waited until they were out of sight, then let loose a long sigh.

“Do you know them?” Gwydion asked, wondering what he had missed.

“Yes,” she said curtly. She rose up onto her knees to see better. Catching sight of no one else, she relaxed, then stood once more and brushed the dirt off her skirt.

Gwydion stood as well. In general he had little use for women, young or old; being motherless, he had little experience with any. But this girl was different somehow. There was an innate intelligence in her eyes, as well as something indescribable, and he was fascinated by her. Perhaps it was that she was the singular example of her race whom he had seen so far. Or it might have been the mild humming in his eyes and his utter inability to break his gaze away and stop looking at her. Whatever the reason, he wanted to make sure she didn’t walk away.

“Why are you hiding? Don’t you like to dance?”

She turned to face him again, and Gwydion felt the strange sensation once more. It began in his groin, but rushed rapidly to his head and hands, leaving those areas weak and perspiring a little. “I love to dance,” she said. Her tone was wistful.

“Well, then, shall we? I mean, would you like to?” His voice sounded inane to his ears.

Emily’s eyes filled with regret, and she shook her head. “I can’t,” she said sadly. “Not yet. I’m sorry.”

“What’s the matter?”

She looked behind her again. Seeing nothing that bothered her, she turned back around. She gave him a direct look. “Doesn’t this all seem, well, barbaric to you?”

Gwydion stared at her in astonishment, then let out a laugh. “Yes, actually,” he said, trying not to be rude at the same time he was being honest. “Yes, it does.”

“Well, then, imagine how I feel.”

Gwydion felt his liking of her instantly increase. He put his hand out to her. “Come out of there,” he said.

Emily gave a backward glance, then took his hand and allowed him to assist her over the debris around the barrels. They walked a little farther down the road, then looked back toward the hall. The dance was in full swing, with merry music issuing forth and the sound of excited voices filling the night air. It was warm, with a soft breeze; a perfect night.

Gwydion had so many questions that he didn’t know where to start, but he was sure that he did not want to frighten her off by overwhelming her with his need for information. He pointed to the corsage.

“Are you here with someone?”

Emily’s brows furrowed; then her eyes followed his finger. Rapidly, understanding crossed her face.

“No,” she said, smiling slightly. “These are a gift from my father. You don’t come to the foreharvest dance with anyone, that would be counterproductive.”

“I see,” Gwydion said. Now that she was out in the lantern-light he took the opportunity to study her more. Her dress was velvet, probably a dark blue, and it was cut with a deep, curving neckline. Underneath it at the throat was a modesty piece that matched the lace at the hem, studded with a line of small silver buttons of simple manufacture. A tiny matching ribbon pulled two of the front strands of her pale hair off her face, securing them at the back of her head.