Again I stretched upon the lenga pelt and rested upon my left elbow, the now-healed fingers of my hand toying with the long, silky hair of the fur. I did not know whether or not Mida approved of my most recent doings, but I continued to feel that she did not. The males might well have been allowed to arrive soon enough to keep the metal-tipped fighting whips from my flesh, yet they had not. The word sent to me may well have been a warning to heed the command I had been given, else might my life sign also be kept from arriving should the occasion again arise. Under such a circumstance would my soul then be forfeit; however I still was not eager to obey. Instead I felt a faint curiosity, centering on a newly formed query: in what manner would the goddess act if I were to fling my life sign into a swiftly running stream and then open my own throat with a dagger? Would even the magic of the goddess be sufficient to keep the life from flowing swiftly from me? I had once been healed by her without the presence of the crystal life sign, yet had the process been long and filled with the frustrations of helplessness; if it were her intention to see me healed again, would this longer process be used, or would the life sign somehow be retrieved yet again? Faintly did it seem that the goddess challenged me rather than commanded yet the notion could be nothing more than empty-headed fancy.
“Ah, now do I understand all which has occurred,” said Mehrayn, a false heartiness to his voice to match his strangely pleasant smile. “It was not the stubbornness of your single-minded viewpoint which sent you forth without the protection of the gods, it was no less than the will of those very same gods. Punishment has been decreed for you by cause of your actions, yet are you not to be ended, for your continuing efforts have also been demanded. No other than you is capable of free will, for all save you move to the demands of the gods. You alone move to your own urgings, obeying or disobeying the gods as you please, bringing about their will through efforts which no other is capable of performing. For such a reason is it you alone who is punished, when disobedience comes in place of obedience; no other may be held culpable, for all others move to the will of the gods.”
I blinked in uncertainty at the words of the male, yet did it seem that, although strangely put, he had at last found the right of it. The reason behind so odd a circumstance was far beyond the vision of even a Midanna war leader, yet had the male done well in describing the circumstance itself. Again I parted my lips, this time to commend the male, yet was he in the midst of opening and removing his swordbelt, the overly pleasant smile he had worn now nearly a grin. I had no understanding of what brought him such amusement and lightheartedness, and surely did he see the words I had not yet put breath to.
“Your dark, lovely eyes are filled with question,” said he, putting sword and scabbard well behind him. “Should you wonder at my feelings of pleasure, you need wonder no longer. I am pleased that I may now accompany you as I wish, for my presence will be in accordance with the will of the gods. Lacking free will of my own, my actions may be considered no other thing.”
“You cannot!” I protested, so taken aback by his intention that I began to straighten to sitting again. “I must be on my way from here in as few reckid as possible, therefore . . . ”
“No,” said he, his voice soft, his movement so swift that he knelt across me before I was able to rise to sitting. “As the gods direct my actions, my will may be looked upon as the will of the gods. It is my will that you remain here through the darkness, therefore shall you obey the gods and remain.”
“You do not speak with the voice of the gods!” I hissed, glaring up at his broad form in anger. “Merely are you used at times to see the will of the gods done! You, yourself, are no part of it! Remove your bulk from before me this moment, for I must quickly depart!”
“Else shall I be struck down by the gods?” he inquired pleasantly, putting his great hands to my life sign and the leather which held it. “Surely do you seem to have forgotten that the gods are angered and have decreed punishment for you. What harsher punishment than to keep you in a place you wish to be gone from? What better way to punish disobedience than through forced obedience? You shall, I will wager, recall this punishment longer than many others you have been given, perhaps even unto a fair consideration in future of those about you who are other than Midanna.”
His hands then lifted the life sign from about my neck, showing that the leather had not been settled beneath my hair. The anger within me grew to fury, for the male clearly believed not a word he spoke, his intent no more than to mock me and take that which was not freely given. I had not the time to dally with males, and surely would Mida see me truly punished if I again failed to ride as she had directed. Personal punishment might be borne in silence, yet what if the punishment should descend instead upon the Hosta or those other Midanna who followed me? That was how the gods punished, bringing agony to one’s very soul, though this male above me did not know that. He moved in the cause of none save his own, his anger toward one who was chained to the gods more than foolish.
In fury, then, did I rise up and strike at the broad body of the male with both fists, attempting to force him from me, yet no more than a grin did I elicit with my efforts. Much did it seem as though I struck at the stone of the walls, Mehrayn’s body warmer yet surely no softer. Again and again I struck at him, furious to see naught save that accursed grin, and then did he begin to bend slowly down to me, his well-muscled arms reaching to the lenga fur to either side of me. I quickly put my hands to his shoulders to thrust him from me, yet sooner would I have been able to thrust away the fangs of the attacking lenga from my flesh. Down and down he came, forcing me flat to the furs with the weight of his body alone, my arms bending slowly yet surely between us, and then his face was no more than a breath from mine.
“I give eternal thanks to Sigurr that you have been restored to full health, stubborn she-gando,” he murmured, the green of his eyes now steady with sobriety. “Had you been taken from my arms to his, surely would I soon have followed you. I know now that I mean naught to you, for I am male and Sigurri rather than Midanna, yet do you remain all that holds meaning for me. Best you learn to care for yourself, for the pain which takes you takes me as well, and I care little for such added pain.”
Then were his lips upon mine, warm and demanding, and I awash in limitless confusion. Though I had attempted to free myself of him, my desire for his lips and arms and body was so great that I felt I would burst with it. Merely to share the touch of his lips, my hands to the broadness of his shoulders. Mida! What enchantment the male had placed upon me I knew not, yet was I powerless to resist it. In the feyd we had been apart I had yearned for him endlessly, and he spoke of meaning naught to me. And yet, how was I to acknowledge what meaning he did hold for me, when the gods punished as they did? The warmth of his body came to mine as his tongue tasted me deeply, a tasting I could barely keep from sharing. Mida demanded that I ride at once, yet this male kept me from it; should she somehow gain the agreement of Sigurr, indeed might Mehrayn be struck down! I moved in protest beneath his body and lips, torn with the need for him, torn with the need to be away, unable to know more than a portion of the frenzied thoughts racing about in my head. If for no other reason, I must depart to protect the male, yet his arms moved beneath me and held me tight to his chest.