Chapter 8: The Magic Door
Elathan had left early while Igraine was still sleeping. She woke up alone in his bed, feeling empty and cold without him. Shivering, she wrapped the black satin sheet tighter around herself. Her clothes were still drying on the stone by the lake, so she had nothing to wear.
Standing up, she looked down at her body. She still couldn't believe how much she had changed in the short time since Elathan had brought her to these caves. Although not perfectly slim – she mused that her curvy figure would stay with her forever, no matter what she did - her belly was much flatter now, and the daily training with pole, sword and sometimes a longbow had given her strong, lean muscles. Actually, she had never felt better in her whole life.
Back in her own world, her only joy left had been raiding the fridge in the middle of sleepless nights, followed by an inevitable rush of guilt. But it wasn't food she really craved; her heart wanted something else. Nothing had helped to fill her emptiness inside. Now her life had changed so much. She would really have to discuss the nature of their relationship with Elathan, unsure if she wanted to spend the rest of her life as a mere slave. But being with him excited her, made her feel so alive. And she wasn't alone anymore. Even if she didn't know what the elf felt for her, or what the future would bring, there was one thing she was sure of. Last night, the prince had taken her under his protection, sworn to stay with her. He was nothing like Stephen. She was sure that his honor meant everything to him, and that he'd never leave her.
Elathan. Since she had tasted his elven blood mixed with her own, he seemed to have conquered her completely. She could feel him under her skin, sensed his presence in her soul. Right now, she didn’t know if he was near or far away. But she sensed that he wasn't angry or brooding today, but pleased, almost cheerful. She asked herself what was the cause for this unexpected mood. Perhaps he had thought of a new way to humiliate his human prisoner?
Slave, her mind whispered. I am not his prisoner anymore. I have surrendered myself. Now I belong to him. The thought was not degrading, but sent pleasant little shivers down her spine. Heavens, what he had done to her last night! She was not able to describe the exquisite, overwhelming feelings he had awakened in her. His body covering hers, rubbing his own heart’s blood into her skin, sealing their bond for all time. The taste of his blood, so unexpectedly sweet. And his skillful tongue on her, parting her moist folds … She wanted to feel it again, everywhere on her body. And she wanted him to love her.
The prince had left a message on the bedside table, written in black ink on a piece of parchment. His handwriting looked slightly antique, powerful and elegant.
Lady Igraine,
There will be no training for you today. You will wait here in my chambers and prepare yourself for the hunt until I come for you. By the lake, you will find appropriate clothing and, as is the custom of the Fae, a gift to my slave of pleasure. I would be honored if you accepted it.
I suggest that you get some rest before night falls. You will need all your strength.
Elathan
"Prepare myself?" Igraine murmured, confused. And what on earth did he mean when he spoke of a hunt? What kind of prey did he want to chase down? She doubted that many animals lived in these caves, apart from insects and small reptiles, maybe. After a while she gave up wondering about the letter. She couldn't even guess at the mysterious plan the elf had come up with this time. There was no other choice for her than to just wait and see.
Nevertheless, she heeded Elathan's advice and allowed herself to spend a lazy day. She bathed in the warm waters of the underground lake, enjoying the wonderful scent of the prince’s exotic soaps and oils on her skin. Still undressed, she sat down on the soft cushions by the lake and ate the simple, hearty meal Elathan had left for her. In his letter, he had written that she would need her strength. She had no idea what he meant by that. On the other hand, she already knew him well enough to know that he wouldn’t warn her in vain.
She was amazed by the new clothes he had spread for her on the pillows, a sleeveless top with tight-fitting trousers. They were made of the finest fabric she ever had seen, delicate but at the same time warm and comfortable. The elven cloth was colored in a lovely deep green, with fine golden threads woven in between. There also were soft brown leather boots that reached up to her calves and a belt that held a small but sharp dagger, clearly made for the hands of a woman.
When she picked up the shirt and trousers to dress, she found a sword lying beneath. Igraine gasped. She stretched out her hand and took it, unsheathing it very carefully. Looking very similar to a samurai sword, it was the most beautiful weapon she had ever seen - light and not too long, with a curved blade that gleamed like a moonbeam in the gloomy cave. The black hilt carried a golden sign, probably the prince’s seal. She had seen it before, among the paintings on the cave walls. Silver elven runes were engraved in the blade. She wondered what they meant, and if they were magic. Her heart beat faster, realizing that Elathan had given her a priceless gift. Even she could see that this sword was a masterpiece, flawless and unique. It was a gift fit for a queen, not for a slave.
Quickly she dressed, sighing when she felt the elven clothes as they glided along her skin, their caress soft like a feather’s. Then she closed the belt with the dagger around her waist, but it took a while to figure out how to carry the sword. It was strapped to her back with two leather bands around her upper body that were crossed between her breasts. This way the weapon didn’t hinder her while she moved, though was easy enough to grasp by reaching over her shoulder. When she was satisfied with her appearance, she stepped to the edge of the lake and looked down at her reflection.
Igraine’s eyes widened when she saw the woman mirrored in the dark, calm waters. She looked like a stranger, because she was … beautiful. The woman’s tight clothes fit perfectly and enhanced every curve of her strong, well-trained physique. The sleeveless top seemed to be made to show off her muscular shoulders and arms, the wide belt accentuated the way her waist curved into nicely-shaped hips. Her trousers fit her long legs snugly and clung to her toned thighs and calves. She noticed that her hair had grown very fast, for it fell in heavy dark waves over her shoulders and back, reaching down to her shoulder blades now. Her face had changed, too. It was more chiseled, with high cheekbones and huge green eyes that stared back at her from the water.
How was it possible to change that much in such a short time? She was sure it had something to do with the magic of this place. She could feel it everywhere, surrounding her, making her skin tingle. Her senses had become stronger since she had tasted Elathan’s blood the day before. Her eyes seemed to be sharper, seeing even the smallest insect crawling over the rock of the far end wall. The colors looked brighter, more intense. She felt as if someone had lifted a veil from her eyes. For the first time, she really appreciated the earthy tones of the cave, the green moss that grew on the stones. Her hearing had improved, too. She noticed the gurgling water of a well that must be around the bend of the underground lake, little creatures that crawled inside the walls, carving out the eternal stone.
She began to walk around in the cave, practising with her new sword. It was very light to hold and precisely followed her movements. The blade was sharper than anything she had ever seen before, as it instantly drew a drop of blood from her finger when she accidentally touched it. She sheathed it again and went to Elathan’s bedchamber, not really knowing why she wanted to be there.
In this room, his presence was almost touchable, even when he was not there. She went to the bed and sat down at its edge, letting her hand glide across the silken sheets. Then, after throwing a glance behind her to be sure that no one watched, she grabbed the closest black pillow and buried her face in it, deeply inhaling the trace of his scent that still clung there. Remembering what he had done to her in that bed, a longing moan escaped her lips. Elathan. How much she missed him already.
Igraine had felt desire for him before, but since they had shared their blood, being apart from him felt like physical pain. Moaning again, she lay down on her belly, hugging the pillow with both arms. She didn’t even think about removing the sword on her back. This was where he had slept with his arms around her, making her feel protected, safer than ever before. It didn’t matter if he was a prince and she a mere slave to tend to his sexual needs. She happily would spend the rest of her life this way if it meant being close to him.
She must have fallen asleep for a while, for an unfamiliar sound made her startle. Igraine sat up abruptly, wondering why she felt so stiff until she remembered that the sword was still strapped to her back. Searching for the origin of the strange, high-pitched sound, her attention was drawn to the wall on the other end of the chamber. There, a silvery light had begun to penetrate the massive stone.
It was a thin line at first. It started on the cave floor and ran up through the rock to the height of a tall man, ripping the stone apart. It arched to one side in a high bow-shape and then down again. It was the outline of a door. The light was pouring out from the narrow crack, as if an unseen force from outside had sliced through, splitting the hard stone.
Igraine wasn’t sure how she knew this, but there was old magic at work here. Elathan’s magic. She felt him as if he had touched her.
Igraine. She heard his voice in her mind, calling her to him.
Without thinking, she stood up from the bed and went to the glowing door in the wall, cautiously, step by step. She had her hand ready at the hilt of her sword, not knowing what would come out of the door when it finally opened.
The age-old stone of the cave eventually gave way, and the door opened slowly, swinging to the side with a loud rumble.
Igraine was blinded by the light shining out of the opening, streaming into the darkened cave. She shielded her eyes with one hand and tried to see what was on the other side of the door. Hearing Elathan’s voice in her head once more, she decided to proceed and took another step forward, crossing the door’s threshold.
Her skin tingled when she felt the magic that had caused this unmoving stone to open. She reached the other side, and her feet didn’t stand on the solid stone floor of the cave anymore. It was the softness of earth covered with fallen leaves.
Igraine let her hand fall down to her side and stared at her surroundings, disbelievingly. She had not expected what she saw there. Huge trunks of ancient trees reached up to the heavens, their branches forming a green canopy high over her head. She saw the sun shining through the mass of green leaves to warm her skin, and felt a soft breeze playing with her hair.
A forest. Only a moment ago she had been in Elathan’s underground bedchamber, and now she stood at the edge of a large clearing, surrounded by high elm trees. When she turned around, the magic door was gone, as it if had never existed.
She instantly knew that this wasn’t a normal wood. While some trees carried glossy green leaves, others were in full bloom, their branches sprinkled with lovely blossoms – some of them white and pink, others lime-green, they filled the air with their sweet scent. There were even trees in their autumn garments, their leaves silently falling down to the forest floor and coloring it in the most wonderful shades of golden yellow, russet and deep purple. It occurred to Igraine that the trees themselves had chosen their favorite season, although this was impossible - in her world, at least.
This forest is enchanted, she thought. She could feel the elven magic, his magic, all around her, confusing her human senses, creeping under her skin. It felt as if this place had waited for her, beckoning her to come home. It was beautiful beyond imagining.
A little blue bird landed on a nearby branch and curiously watched her with its tiny black eyes. When Igraine stretched out her hand to the bird, it surprised her by fearlessly hopping onto her hand. “Hello, little fellow,” she said very softly, not wishing to frighten him away. But the bird seemed to like it there. After he had settled down on the soft flesh between her thumb and index finger, he leisurely started to clean his wings. She laughed, charmed by the little animal who contentedly rested on her hand, without a care in the world.
A rustling sound behind her caught her attention, and she slowly turned around. The bird flew away, chirping merrily as if bidding her good-bye. Igraine stood rooted to the ground when she saw Elathan coming out of the woods, riding a midnight-black steed.
The prince sat on the noble horse as if he'd been born to it, holding the reins loosely while steering the animal with his muscular thighs. He was dressed in a stunning light armor in a deep green adorned with delicate golden trees and leaves. Igraine saw the sign she believed to be the royal seal on his belt. It was the same as on the hilt of her sword. Underneath, he wore tight riding trousers in a green so dark it looked almost black, high boots and a soft shirt with wide sleeves that reached down to his brown leather wrist armor. Igraine’s heart stopped beating for a moment when she realized that the colors of his clothes exactly matched hers, marking her as his own.
Besides his sword, the elf carried his spear and an elven longbow, both attached to his richly decorated saddle. His long moonlight tresses were tamed by a thin leather band that held the sides back, accentuating his regal features. Elathan’s high cheekbones and almond-shaped eyes, combined with a straight nose and a determined jaw line gave him an aristocratic look, yet mated with the exotic beauty of a wild beast. His golden gaze never left her face while he rode to her side and dismounted with a single, swift motion, landing softly on the forest floor.
Before she knew it, he had pulled her into his strong embrace, kissing her so fiercely she forgot to breathe. His firm lips took possession of her, wild and passionate. Igraine moaned and willingly opened her mouth for him. Boldly he claimed her with his tongue, unmistakably giving her a foretaste of what would come when he took her body. His wonderful scent surrounded her, making her knees so weak she had to grab his muscular upper arms and cling helplessly to him. She feared that she might melt into a puddle at his feet if he took his arms away.
She felt his hand covering the back of her head, holding her prisoner so she couldn’t escape his kiss, even if she wanted. His gloved fingers stroked over her dark hair, wrapping it around his palm while he tasted her lower lip, nibbling and sucking until she moaned with delight. His other hand wandered down over her sensitive back, making her shiver with desire. He grabbed her soft backside and pressed her close to his strong, hard body. Feeling his nearness was almost more than she could bear. She wanted him, right here and now.
Igraine had never felt this way before. This kiss dispelled every other thought from her mind, made her care for nothing else but ripping off his clothes, feeling his naked skin on hers. Without him, she was incomplete, like a creature ripped into two halves by a cruel god. He was a part of her now.
Suddenly she couldn’t be near enough to him. Desperately she threw her arms around his neck and molded her body to his, frustrated by the hardness of the prince’s armor between them. He kissed her again and again, his tongue exploring her mouth while her body trembled in his arms, and her womanly core pulsated, moist and ready for his entrance.
When he pulled back from her lips, she cried out softly and tried to capture his mouth again. Slowly, he broke the kiss and buried his face against her neck. Igraine felt like crying when she felt his agitated breath grazing her skin. She couldn’t stand being separated from him anymore, even for one single moment. “Elathan,” she whispered into his hair, not daring to tell him what she yearned for. The prince moaned deep in his throat, gently biting her neck while he strained to hold himself back. They stood encircled in each other's arms. For a while, their heavy breathing was the only sound. Even the birds had stopped singing, and time seemed to stand still for a moment. Reluctantly, Elathan stepped back to bring a safe distance between them. He knew that if he waited only a moment longer, he wouldn't be able to stop himself anymore.
Igraine opened her mouth to protest, but a soft rustling made her turn her head to the other end of the clearing, where the undergrowth between the tall trees moved. The branches parted, and a most unexpected creature came into sight.
It was a centaur. His upper half was a young man’s body, athletic and sculpted like a Michelangelo statue. He had a face that could make a woman sigh, and long black hair flowing down his back. From the waist down he had a horse’s body. His dark muscular flanks shivered when he threw back his head and took in the mingled scent of elven and human arousal that filled the air. The centaur curtly nodded to Elathan before he directed his attention fully towards the human woman, staring at her with blatant desire.
Elathan pushed her behind his broad back so she was blocked from the mythical creature’s view. “Centaurs,” he growled. “It's always the same with them. Never able to control themselves in the presence of a female.” He laid his hand on the hilt of his spear, making sure the centaur would see the warning gesture. “She’s mine, Aegis,” Elathan said. He gave the centaur a warning look, his eyes glowing dangerously now. “I would not advise you to touch her. Now where are your friends?”
Aegis watched the prince with open challenge, but just for a short moment. Then he quickly averted his eyes from Igraine and raised his hand. One after another, three centaurs stepped into the clearing, joining their leader. They were strange companions for a prince, Igraine thought. Every one of them had a different coloring, their hair always matching the fur on their horse half. One was very pale with light hair, similar to Elathan’s; the second reddish brown while the last was the color of polished ebony, his white teeth flashing in his handsome face when he grinned at Igraine. They were beautiful creatures; yet they looked wild and untamed. Obviously they respected Elathan, every one of them bowing his head to the prince as they left the shelter of the trees. Igraine had the distinct feeling that she didn’t want one of them as her enemy if she could avoid it.
All of a sudden she noticed that the clearing wasn’t bathed in golden sunshine anymore, the thick canopy of leaves filtering out a good part of the light. The autumn colors of the trees looked duller now, and it was rapidly getting darker. The silence of the woods was only broken by the occasional sound of small night creatures searching their way through the undergrowth.
Elathan turned to her, his face cold and unmoving again.
“Brace yourself, Igraine. As soon as night falls, the hunt will begin. The rules are quite simple. You only have to run and try to escape me and my hunting companions.” He gestured to the centaurs. They seemed to enjoy themselves immensely, grinning while they watched Igraine’s shocked face. She had just realized that the prince intended her to be the prey. Slowly, she shook her head, unable to believe that he would do this to her.
“The ritual will last until the sun rises in the east,” he continued, clearly unconcerned. The question is not if I catch you – there is no doubt about that, but how far you will make it before I hunt you down. Thus, you will prove yourself worthy of being a slave of pleasure, strong enough to cope with the desires of an elven warrior.”
He saw the panic in her eyes, so he put his hand under her chin and lifted up her face to him. “Don’t be frightened, sweet Igraine,” he added gently. “You are strong. Our blood has become one. I’ll do everything in my power to protect you, and the centaurs will not dare to touch you. Their only task is to chase you towards me. But be warned, this forest is very old. My people magically changed it for the sake of the Fae who live here, undisturbed by meddlesome humans. But there are also other creatures that still dwell in these woods. Some of them might prove dangerous to a human foolish enough to stumble into their way.
“I am the hunter, your master. You are the prey, my slave of pleasure. Run as fast as you can. I’ll give you one hour’s head start. Then I will not rest until you are mine.” He lowered his head and dropped his voice to a whisper, so the sharp ears of the centaurs wouldn’t hear what he told her. “I knew how beautiful you would look wearing this elven attire - like Diana, the goddess of the hunt. You can't imagine how much I want to be inside you, right now. But when your time comes and I take you, do not expect me to hold back, woman. You will surrender yourself to me completely, and I will claim what is rightfully mine.”
At this very moment the last beams of light shining through the leaves were gone, and the clearing was filled with dark shadows.
“The hunt has begun,” Elathan announced loudly, his voice rolling like thunder between the ancient trees.
Igraine hesitated only for a second. She threw one last glance at the prince’s face, just to see the expression in his eyes. They were dark, deep amber now, and showed no emotion except the thrill of the hunt. Terrified, she turned around and began to run.