Elizabeth Haydon: Rhapsody: Child of Blood

“Where are we?”

Emily sank to the ground and he followed her lead gratefully. “This is one of the hills that overlook our farm,” she said. “My dowry lands are the fields in the middle by the stream, where the willow stands. I call this place the Patchworks, because in the light it looks like the quilt on my bed, with the different textures and colors of the fields.”

Gwydion looked at her face shining in the moonlight, and heard a door in his heart open. There was something much more than the alien chemical excitement that had been coursing through him from the moment he laid eyes on her, leaving him feeling giddy and stupid. Deep inside him he felt a need more intense than he had ever felt before.

It was as if he had known her his whole life, or perhaps merely that his life had really started when he met her. Either way, and for whatever reason he was here, he knew he couldn’t bear to be away from her for even a moment now. And there was something in her eyes that told him she was examining these same strange and wonderful feelings within her own heart.

She turned and looked into the valley again. “Well, do you like it?” she asked, a little anxiously.

He knew her meaning, and added his own to it. “It’s the most beautiful sight I have ever beheld.”

Awkwardly he leaned toward her, hoping that his lips would find her willing. He had never kissed anyone except in gestures of respect, and so moved with agonizing slowness, his extremities going cold in the expectation that she might dart out of the way in horror.

Instead, when his intentions became clear to her she smiled, closed her eyes, and leaned into his kiss quickly and with eagerness. He had not anticipated the softness of her mouth, or its warmth, and the sensation sent cold shivers through him, even on this hot night. She touched his face before their lips parted, and the gesture went straight to his heart.

Then, as the happiness he was discovering began to envelop him, an icier feeling rose up to meet it. He looked over the valley and the picture in front of his eyes began to shift, the luminescence turned from moonlit silver to the flat gray of caustic smoke.

In his mind’s eye he could see the valley in the aftermath of a devastating fire, the pastureland smoldering, the farmhouses and outbuildings in ashes. The ground was razed, and the fields swam in rivers of blood that seeped through the whole of the pastureland. Gwydion started to tremble violently as the red tide began to surge up the side of the valley below them, coming their way with an unstoppable insistence.

“Sam?” Emily’s voice was filled with alarm. “Are you all right? What’s the matter?”

Gwydion snapped out of his reverie, and as he did the vision vanished, returning the valley to peaceful silver again. A look of consternation had taken up residence on Emily’s face. Her fingers still rested on his cheek, and he took her hand. His own was shaking uncontrollably.

“Sam?” Emily’s eyes grew darker, and worry flooded her face.

“Emily, where are we? I mean, what is the name of this village?”

“Merryfield.”

His stomach began to cramp. Merryfield was a common enough name; it could be anywhere. But on the ancient maps he remembered there was a village by that name, somewhere in the midst of the Wide Meadows, the great expanse of open plains that made up a large part of mideastern Serendair. The Meadows had been devastated in the war; none of the human villages had survived. And even when peace was restored, the villages were only beginning to be rebuilt when the Island was destroyed.

“What are the nearest towns? Cities?”

Emily’s concern was growing as each moment passed. “There are no towns or cities around here, Sam, not for more than a hundred leagues. My father only goes into the city once a year, and he’s gone for more than a month when he does.”

“What’s the name of the city, Emily? Do you know?”

She squeezed his hand in an effort to calm him, though he could see she had no understanding of his panic. “We’re in the middle of two. To the west, on the other side of the great river, is Hope’s Landing, and to the southeast is Easton. That’s the biggest city in the land, I think.”

Gwydion’s eyes began to sting. It can’t be , he thought desperately, it can’t be . Both of the names she had mentioned were cities in Serendair.

“Sam?” His panic was beginning to take Emily over, too. Gwydion looked into her face. His eyes cleared suddenly, his vision became intensely acute again, and from the depths of his despair his pragmatic nature reemerged.

Of course , he thought, his fear subsiding instantaneously. He was here to save her from the destruction of the Island. He knew how, and to whom to go, and when they would need to leave. Some beneficent Fate must have sent him back in Time, given him this chance, though he had no idea why.

He looked at her again, and smiled, and that realization came to him as well. This must be his soul mate; he knew it more certainly than he knew his own name. He could see it. With the clarity of the knowledge came a sense of calm assurance and growing joy. Emily was his soul mate. It was easy to believe, given how much he knew he loved her already.

Gwydion took her face in his hands, and pulled her into another kiss. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said when he released her. “I need to tell you something.”

She moved back from him a little. “What?”

He tried to keep his voice from cracking, as it occasionally did when he was excited or anxious. “We have to leave as soon as we can, and go east to the Meadows. If anything happens to me, or if we get separated for any reason, you must promise me you will find someone named MacQuieth, or Farrist, or Garael. Please, promise me.”

Emily stared at him in amazement. “What are you talking about?”

Gwydion thought about how to explain, and then realized he couldn’t. How could she possibly understand now? No one knew this was coming; the war had not even reached here, and the death of the Island was centuries after the war. Then a sadder thought occurred to him. Perhaps he wasn’t destined to go back, either. Perhaps instead he was to live, and die, here, in the Past.

He took her face in his hands again and studied it carefully. Despite his irrational behavior, she seemed to understand his distress, and she wanted to soothe it. Her eyes sought answers in his face. They were dark with concern; their sympathy had no visible bottom to its depth. It was a face he could look at forever and still not tire of, or even fully know everything about. Tenderness welled up inside him, choking him, and he decided, without a second thought, that dying here with her was infinitely better than going back to living without her.

The moonlight shifted and filled her eyes, and she smiled. When she did, his fear of the situation evaporated, and he kissed her once more, lingering longer this time. The wonderful, queasy feeling returned to his stomach as he felt her lips part slightly and her breath filled his mouth. The intimacy was more than he could handle without losing control completely.

He drew back, and found a look of wonder on her face. “I can’t believe you really came,” she whispered. “Where are you from?”

Gwydion was astonished. “What do you mean?”

Emily took his hands, her excitement spilling over from her eyes to her body, which began to quiver happily. “You were my wish, weren’t you? Have you come to save me from the lottery, to take me away?”

Gwydion swallowed. “You could say that. Why do you think I’m your wish?”

Her face held no shyness, no awkwardness. “I wished for you to come last night on my star, right after midnight, and here you are. You don’t know where you are, do you? Did I bring you from a long way off?”