Copyright © 2011 Russell Turney
Smashwords Edition
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Note: This short story is a scene that never made it into my novel, Tough Justice. I thought it a little racy for inclusion in a mainstream book.
The Enchanted Forest
Iain spooned behind Emma and slipped his hand inside her pajamas. A small murmur escaped her lips as she let the fingers wander over the soft, warm skin of her abdomen. The scene unfolded dreamlike. Iain wasn’t sure if it was real, a vision, or something else otherworldly.
Iain hiked across the rolling countryside that was Emma’s stomach. He stopped to inspect a sinkhole in the middle of the landscape. Sensing a presence behind him, he turned. The strangers garb resembled that of an elf or Robin Hood. Something told him this was a ranger of sorts. Soft blue eyes peered out from the shadow cast by her hood. The eyes appeared lit from behind by candles. They sparkled with humour and warmth, flickering as an ethereal breeze caressed the wax tapers. The shape of the eyes and cut of the garb told him this was a female.
“Welcome, intrepid traveler.” He felt the words in his head, sensual, soft, and powerful. “What brings you to this land?”
“I wish to explore the wondrous sights of this magical realm.” Iain surprised himself with the flowery reply.
“Permission is required to venture beyond the area you now stand upon. You must endure the first test to pass. Do you consent?”
“Yes, my maiden.”
Her hand touched his forehead. The fingers went beyond the flesh, reaching into his head. Cool and soothing, the sensation was that of a nurse’s caress to a sick patient. The hand withdrew. “Your thoughts are honest, stranger. You are worthy.”
A pelt satchel materialized. She delved into the bag, took a silver leaf and pressed it into Iain’s palm. His skin tingled at her touch.
“This will allow you to pass unharmed, for one cycle of the moon. There are rules you must obey.”
Iain nodded, listening carefully.
“You may venture north to the small peaks and beyond.” She indicated the direction to the pass that ran between twin peaks.
“You may venture south as far as the enchanted forest, and beyond, to the standing stone. But no farther.” Her hand pointed south, where no features were yet obvious. “There you may rest and kindle a fire, ensuring the blaze is extinguished before you depart.” Her eyes sparkled intensely.
“You must not travel beyond the standing stone. The cave flanked by the mythical pink terraces is off limits at this time of the moons cycle. Powerful forces are at work there.”
Iain nodded his assent.
“You may be allowed access there another time. Special permission is required, and you will undergo another, more difficult trial. Your heart will be tested and must be found pure before you pass.”
“What is this place you speak of, my maiden?”
“The pink terraces are sacred ground. To approach you must be in possession of three magical items.”
“What are these three items?” Iain asked. Excitement welled inside him.
“The first you carry within you. An honest mind, a pure heart and a loving soul. The second you carry without. A wand of sufficient power for the task ahead. This I will test. The third. A talisman of protection, fixed to the wand.”
“Where do I find this wand?” Iain asked.
“When the time is right, it will appear.”
“The talisman?”
“Again, you will know when the time is right.” She smiled.
Iain was intrigued. “What lies beyond the pink terraces?”
“A land as powerful and magical as anything you could imagine. A land that ensnares the unwary, enslaving them forever with a siren song. Great risk attaches to any who dares approach unbidden.” She glanced to the south then back to Iain.
“The first magical item, your pure heart, protects you from a god of anger and wrath, fire and brimstone, which falls as a blazing comet upon those who try to trick their way forward. A terrible fate.” She sighed and cast her eyes to the ground.
“The second, your wand, is the only item strong enough to invoke the gods to allow you to pass within. Used properly, it will part the pink terraces and allow your entry.” Her mouth twitched.
“The third protects you from a powerful force that lurks within. A force that would consume all your time and money for twenty or more years after your passing. With this also comes love and joy, but this is something to plan for, not have visited upon you by hasty action. It may be a blessing or a curse, depending on your conduct. This entity has the potential to consume or assist you as it grows stronger.” Her eyes regarded him.
“Why would anyone risk such calamity and danger?” For the first time, Iain saw her perfect white teeth.
“For those that enter in purity of soul and love of heart, the treasures are boundless. Two souls entwined as one in ecstasy undreamed. You will see when your time comes. Beware the standing stone. Even there, the sirens song reaches. Steel yourself, brave traveler. You will be tested.”
“But ….” Iain watched, spellbound. She glowed brightly then vanished, leaving in her stead thousands of colourful butterflies. They flitted about him, brushing his face with little kisses before dispersing to the four winds. Silence fell upon him. He glanced around, deciding on a direction. The story of the fabled pink terraces intrigued him. But how far away are they?
He purposefully strode off in the direction of the small peaks. They may offer him a view of the enchanted forest. In short time he stood in the pass between the hills. Without hesitation, he quickly scaled the first, feeling triumph as he stood at the peak. He scrabbled around the top, surprised as it changed shape. What once had been smooth ground was now sharp and angular, thrusting the peak higher. How is this possible?
The wind seemed to moan in his ears, the sounds louder and more frequent as he circled the peak. The high point had once served as a spring of sorts. He placed his mouth there but no water flowed. Yet, he felt succored. The wind blew stronger, tousling his hair, the sounds buffeting him. The very earth seemed to move.
He looked south now. On the horizon, he could make out the beginnings of the enchanted forest. He slid down the side of the mount. The other looked identical, yet he could not resist the urge to climb that one also. There was no soft ground at the top of this one, the earth already sharp to his touch. A similar dry spring outlet existed here, beckoning him. He touched it with his mouth, surprised as a small quake ensued. This was indeed a strange, wondrous land.
He ran down the side of this mount and made a quick reconnoiter of the land to the north. After a cursory look around, he reversed his direction and headed south. The enchanted forest was calling him.
Rather than a direct line, he zigzagged across the rolling land, inspecting its little nooks and crannies. Finally, he felt the ground rising slightly and the tops of the forest became visible.
He realized he was climbing a mound. His breath was slightly ragged as he trudged ever onward, the forest now clearly laid out ahead of him. He stood for a moment marveling at nature’s design. The main forest ran in a wide strip away from him, all the trees of a uniform height. On the sides they had been thinned heavily, most of the trunks removed, leaving the surface smooth and easy to traverse. He chose to walk among the strip of trees. He wondered if a fire had swept through the area, the trunks blackened and free of branches. A scent he couldn’t place filtered through the woods, beckoning him onward.
Having reached the far edge of the forest, he found himself in a clearing. So where is the standing stone? Directly ahead, in the centre? Everything he’d seen had a beautiful symmetry to it. Why wouldn’t this? The ground sloped downhill now and he almost tripped on a small rock. It appeared to be the marker for a dry creek bed. Is this the standing stone? Smaller than I expected. But nonetheless dangerous. The trip had nearly sent him over a precipice, into a deep gully.
He inched his way to the edge. Ghost-like hands brushed his cheek and a voice penetrated his mind. Exquisite, delicate music pierced his soul, urging him onward. Ahhh. He felt transported off the ground, carried weightlessly forward. His eyes glimpsed the glistening outline of what could only be the pink terraces. Tempted, dragged forward, he reached out, threatening to topple into the gully. Emma’s voice called to him in his head “The ranger’s not gonna like it.”
He snapped to attention, wildly alert, and pulled back from the edge. The siren song. The blue-eyed girl had warned him. The terraces almost ensnared him. The ground moved beneath his feet. The wind that had fallen silent stirred, carrying primal sounds and scent.
His head spun and he stumbled back toward the standing stone. The terraces had entered his soul. Even now, they called to him. Return. He shook his head, dragging his thoughts back to the stone. Odd. The rock had tripled in size since he passed it the first time. He could see it was actually nestled in a cleft. He felt cold. The sirens song somehow leeched some of the heat from him as he withdrew. The ranger said I could kindle a fire, but there’s nothing to burn. He walked around the stone a few times thinking. Iain gasped as heat began to radiate.
He caressed the surface gently. The heat increased rapidly, as if it were alive, responding to his touch. Interesting. Placing his hand on the top, he ran in a circle for a minute, then back the other way. Wind whistled around him, buffeting him and the nearby forest. Voices and sounds carried on the breeze, urging him continue.
He conjured up some music in his head and performed his impression of a war dance around the stone, chanting, stomping and brushing his hand in a steady rhythm, as directed by some inner guide. An overpowering scent filled the air, at once musky and feral. Whatever this stone is, it possesses great power. The earth trembled. Wind tore at his clothes. Powerful clouds gathered overhead. The sky flashed bright with lightning.
Once. Twice. The third time, the crash of thunder shook the ground. The earth heaved and shook, tossing him in the air, as an arc of lightning reached out and touched the stone. He landed on his back in time for the earth to throw him even higher, before coming to rest a short distance away. It glowed white, yet not hot. A deep rumbling built beneath his feet. He reached out a hand and touched the stone one last time.
A jumble of images flashed through his rattled brain. Emma, him, Cassie, two small girls, a maple leaf, a log house and a sword, among others. As if releasing a held breath, the ground heaved skyward, throwing him backwards. The wind carried strange sounds and sweet smells. An intense white flash of energy pulsed outward from the stone, knocking him flat, stunning him.
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Iain gingerly rolled onto his back and blinked his eyes. All around him, silence filled the air. Small after tremors vibrated along the surface, their energy oddly calming. They entered him, climbing his spine as a shiver. He sat up and glanced around. Everything was as when he arrived. Did I dream this? He stood slowly and stumbled toward the standing stone. Flushed with colour, it had returned to its initial size. Light dew had settled on the ground and stone. Toward the north, he could see the sun dropping behind the peaks. He shook his head once more and turned for the journey homeward.
He skirted the edge of the forest this time, the going easier. The air seemed peaceful, content, the feeling that left by a deep sigh. Silence hung somnambulant in the air. Time compressed. He found himself standing back at the sinkhole.
He was elated, warm. As if he’d stood close to the sun and taken in its energy. A small chuckle alerted him to her presence.
“You did well, traveler. You passed the second test.” The ranger threw back her hood revealing radiant golden hair.
“You didn’t tell me there was another test today.” Iain stated.
She chuckled again. “No. We, never do. That is part of the test. If you knew in advance, it would be easy to pass.”
Iain understood. The siren’s song, obeying the rules. She had told him in some small way. “What now? And who is we?”
“We are the keepers, the guardians of the sacred feminine. Few of us are called to service in this modern, corrupted world you live in. I am heartened to be summoned for your initiation, Iain. You have endured loneliness and torment; have developed strength you know not of. Your two souls are meant to join as one. You were assigned her protector before you were born. I am honoured to meet one such as you.”
She reached out her hand and without being asked, he handed back the silver leaf. She pulled a gold leaf from her satchel and placed it in his palm. Her hand passed over his face and she intoned something he didn’t understand.
“This leaf gives you future access to the enchanted forest and the stone beyond. Should you travel within the boundaries you have been set, you will not encounter me again.”
“What is your name? What do I call you?”
“You may call me Yerendi, if that so pleases you.”
Iain ahemed nervously to clear his throat. “What of the pink terraces, Yerendi?”
Laughter rolled from her. “Yes, indeed. The pink terraces. You have proved worthy thus far. The time draws near. You will know when. I will appear to you at the standing stone and perform the final tests. Travel safely, Sir Iain.”
“Sir?”
Her hand touched his forehead and he fell backwards, spinning, into the sinkhole. Her laughter faded.
***
“Hmmm, Iain. I don’t know what you did but that was the most incredible thing I’ve ever experienced.” Emma sounded like she was purring.
Iain could feel her body trembling, the energy moving back and forth between them. His head spun, trying to order his thoughts.
“Yerendi?” He muttered, the name spilling out of its own accord.
Emma rolled in his arms, turning to face him. “What did you say?”
“Yerendi. I heard a name in a … dream. Just now.”
Emma’s eyes seemed to be glowing as Yerendi’s had. “That was some dream. I was there as well. I can’t explain it. I was dressed like an elf. You were there. I gave you something. A leaf? I remember butterflies. Lots of them. Then I thought I was having a sex dream. I woke up just before … mmmm … whatever you did to me. Wow. I’ll keep you on, Sir Iain.”
“Sir Iain? You really were there, weren’t you?” Iain snuggled in to her, wanting to be part of her. He’d never felt so content in his life. His psychic training never prepared him for what had happened. But the message was clear to him. The universe had told him Emma was the one.
He cupped her chin and kissed her tenderly. He waited ‘til her eyes were looking into his and spoke the words of power. “Emma Madeline Ryan, I love you.” He saw her eyes glisten, felt her shake in his arms.
“Iain. Teddybear, I love you too.” He saw the tears roll down her cheeks, reflected in the light of the moon. A subtle movement caught his attention.
For a brief moment, he swore he saw Yerendi and a tall, hooded, masculine figure standing by the bed, smiling.
Iain had never been surer of anything in his life.
Emma would become Mrs. Morrissey.