Above, a few light, fluffy clouds cavorted with the sun. The blue sky seemed particularly vivid today. But it wasn’t the golden orb’s shameless heat or the breathtaking panorama of distant, white-capped mountains making his blood thrash and boil with arousal.
As anguish tempered overzealous attraction, Stellan clenched his teeth. Truly, why was he entertaining such boyish daydreams? He had left those behind even at the age of fifteen, the year of his banishment. Thanks to his purported “family,” he had neither time nor inclination for romantic relationships. His sister’s betrayal still burned hot in his soul. Up until that point, he had thought he and his twin were inseparable. Impregnable. One mind, one soul, and one heart. Together, they would have ruled a powerful, mystical kingdom. But in a single hour, Stellan had destroyed everything. The Black Mage may as well have killed his son, “the traitor,” than forced him into the depths of that cursed region–an endless hell of frozen horrors deep in the heart of the Five Lands.
Painful memories surfaced with their usual vigor. I only did what was just, and for my action I was rewarded with nothing but ruin. Inside, locked away in the deepest pit of his being, a sense of abandonment gnawed with sharp, voracious fangs. Sexual relations merely scratched the surface of the closeness he craved. But he was far too damaged to be of value to anyone. Far too bitter.
Because of all these factors, the woman who lay in peaceful repose would never want him. The knowledge that she–or any woman–could never be his sent a sharp lance of pain into his heart. She would sooner toss lye into his face than to look at him. Seeing one so enchanting was a stark reminder of his barren life, one made all the more egregious by the chilly wastes blanketing his kingdom. Even when the sun shone feverishly everywhere else, brutal winter storms draped his habitat with veils of ice.
Despite his woes, he wanted to sweep his fingers across her flawless skin, delight her with provocative touches. Her parted lips begged for capture, for feasting, and Stellan was one to deliver. He felt sure of it. The thought of one of her breasts in his mouth was almost enough to soothe his dry throat, especially as he also imagined burying a hand between the folds of her sex. By now, under a hot, steamy sun, it must have been dripping.
Ah! Stop it! Stellan shut his eyes fast against a tide of raging libido. He willed his dark part to take over, the part that hated, seething with anger. He could know neither pleasure nor comfort, nor beauty or love. A crusade such as his couldn’t be swept aside for mere indulgences of the flesh or the heart. Much work lay ahead, and he ought to be planning a clean escape. He had to exercise better control. His conscience demanded nothing less.
But when he opened his eyes, there was movement again. One more look, then. One more to last me the rest of my life. Stellan angled forward, breathing hard. He was now at the water’s edge. Dragonflies and gnats buzzed about his dampened black locks, but he didn’t care. He hoped the woman would turn onto her stomach so he might catch a glimpse of her bottom again. The anticipation made such a tightness of his leggings that they threatened to tear. Heavens but he wanted to drink every drop of her!
Then he frowned. It wasn’t the woman who was moving.
Stellan rose a few inches and gazed around. He studied the river, the woods, and the long stretches of grass. In the end, he found nothing untoward. Perhaps in the heat of his fixation he had let his imagination run wild. All the more reason he should depart. He had just begun to edge back from the river when a blur of movement passed across his vision.
He narrowed his eyes. There it was, near the woods! Something had moved the tall grass bordering the trees on the opposite side. Tufts of greenery jerked back and forth. At first, it seemed random, as though the victim of impish field mice. But the longer he watched, the more quickly a pattern emerged. Every muscle tensed, turning to stone as he poised for the worst. Surely one of them wouldn’t be so brazen as to travel this far?
He glimpsed a patch of brown. Could it be a swarm of rodents? Or perhaps an earth tremor loomed, threatening a cave-in. A large swath of grass shifted unnaturally, disproving his suppositions. Stellan wiped sweat from his forehead. What was causing the mysterious movement?
Then his scalp tingled, and not because of sexual arousal. Squatting, he parted the reeds. Though his eyes could not yet discern the type of animal coursing through the grass, other senses, evolved among his kind for generations, had different means of analyzing this new development.
Magick was present, and one of the most hostile sorts in existence.
The creature began to emerge more clearly. Its mottled-brown hide stretched far back into the woods even as it pushed forward toward the river. Stellan could both sense the enormous size and see the disturbance it created among the flora. As though revolted, the trees and grass seemed to flatten themselves away from it. This undulating menace was not indigenous to Aldebaran, of that much he was certain.
Stellan rose. The new vantage point revealed startling details. Before him was a huge slithering entity, not quite a snake, but not exactly a lizard, either. With its misshapen legs and crooked, gangly protrusions, it reminded him of a centipede, albeit the largest he had ever seen. The image was too fantastic to describe, even for the tallest of tales.
A chill passed through him. He’d been so busy studying the pulsing quagmire of flesh that he’d momentarily failed to gauge its purpose.
The creature was heading straight
