vision

I looked up from the large book in front of me to find him in the window, caught in the wind with sun at his back, as if light suffuses his skin, surrounding him like a halo. I had never seen a person move with such grace, I watch as the muscles of his body shift and contract under the his skin. Each sinuous graceful motion is infused with such inherent strength, he could be nothing but man. The width of his shoulders flowing to the power of his arms, his long lean torso leaning against the wall. I watch him beneath my lids, the words in my book long forgotten. He tips his face back to the sun, his skin is colored like deep bracing morning coffee. It had a depth and sense of something metallic in it origins, like a master craftsman had labored hours soothing it, pouring soul into it, his skin sang of sunset promises and honeyed tastes. His skin was an invitation, an invitation to discovery, cinnamon and clove, a memory of long forgotten things, his skin carried with it a subtle hint of vanilla, rich teak Tahitian fulsome. A woman might loose her name lost in the valleys of his skin. the angles and planes of his face, were like the clean edges of a sword cleaving through the fog of my disbelief, his face the smooth clean wonder of a perfect mathematical equation, from the twin wings of his eyebrows to the lush feathering of lashes resting on impossibly high cheek bones. His face was a sum of perfection, his mouth the masterstroke. His mouth was lush and full, the obscene full curve of his lower lip tempered by the perfect cupid's bow of his upper lip. That mouth was temptation, it was the slow tentative motions of first kiss, the quick white hot intensity of hungry devouring, it was the clouds ripe with rain and the fruit heavy with a promise of sweet. His mouth was a dare , a challenge, an elaborate snare of seduction and I was stepping dangerously close to the snapping shut. I stop the singular sound of appreciation from leaving my mouth, almost...At the almost in audible sound, his eyes snap open, like sugar left to caramel for too long, they are the color of pain de epices in places in others they are shadowed and dark. For a fluttering butterfly second, we are ensnared in a reflex tightening thrill of recognition, stretching between us until taunt and at once snapping. Leaving us bewildered in the sudden roar of reality.

The King Of Sorrow

Storm Sapphire stood at the edge of the dance floor, her eyes glimmering with crystal of uncried tears. She felt the rise of music, in her bones, a grandiose waltz, the rise and fall of the notes as couples swirled by heady in the magick of a midnight dance. She wished she could leave the floor and take the carriage home, to where she could rid herself of the worthless frippery and frills, wash her face, return the gems to the safe and retire to the peace of her bedroom. The only thing that kept her in this room was her Lady mother, who was at this moment enscouced with her cronies, sizing up the bachelors of the season. Storm knew she was not a diamond of the first water, yet to be unclaimed even for a single dance, she must have set some kind of ton record. She had begged her mother that at her advanced years, she quit the endless parties and resign herself to the country cottage and follow her dream of writing, yet her mama ever hopeful, still got the modiste and the Sapphire family diamonds, again despite the larger dower amount another season was drawing to a close. It wasn't that Storm did not seek to be married, she ached for the romance and giddy happiness her friends had discovered but somehow she was always glossed over in conversation and courting. She was tired, if she took the Sapphire carriage, before the mid-night buffet, it would be here well before her mother decided to leave and being the daughter of a Duke, Storm knew the staff would inform her mother of her departure. She crossed the floor and was in her carriage as the waltz reached its zenith. Hanson her fathers man, helped her to the closed buggy, and she could finally cry. Her tears finally free of the confines of the public ballroom, came fast and with shuddering sobs. Storm vowwed that this would not happen again, she wouldn't dress up in ridiculous lace dresses like a prized idiot when she knew the outcome. As the carriage drew closer to Dunchapel Manor, she privately burried all her fantasies of chubby baby cheeks and wise male shoulders, Storm told herself that she would never let herself feel this empty again. Suddenly the carriage lurched to a stop,' Hanson' Storm sat up at once alert, the manor was a 20 minute carriage ride from the ballroom, they should not be stopping yet. Storm poked at the little window, elegantly emblazoned with the Sapphire crest, ' Hanson!?' Storm was worried, highwaymen were not common in London city, she drew of the famed Sapphire diamonds and hid them under the carriage seat. She listened for any sounds of a scuffle, any gunshots, she prayed Hanson was all right, he had been her father's man since her childhood. She finally heard the sounds of footsteps followed by a strange high chittering, Storm turned her head toward the carriage door, she expected a pistol even a dagger. She did not expect him. He stood taller than the carriage as he stooped to look in at her. His hair was as a crows wing, shiny black perfection, his face was covered in skin so palely perfect that a million ton beauties would commit murder to have it. The puncuation of his dark brows rested above eyes of ice blue, so pale they were almost white fringed in black lashes long as her own. His face was planes of perfection and Storm was silenced by his silent regard. She reached over to her bare arm and pinched! It hurt and a small red spot bloomed on her arm. This was real, however beautiful he may be, he probably just murdered poor Hanson, and was about to do that or worst to her. She began to calculate her options, she would never outrun or over come him, her best option was to cooperate and appeal to his better nature. Storm put her gloved arms in the air and waited for him to speak. She was done with crying and determined not to die! He regarded her with his ice eyes and opened the door motioning her to dismount the carriage. She began to move forward as her ridiculous dress would allow. As she neared the steps, the silent highway man offered her his arm like a gentle man, should she wish to dismount. As Storm left the carriage, she began to look for Hanson, he was nowhere to be seen. Storm was scared now, if only she had seen Hanson unconcious at least, she assumed he was dead. Tears began to run down her face, she was battling hard not to run screaming into the night, Storm noted that the night was strangely dark, the gas lit London night, was gone completely dark and a strange mist swirled around her feet, hugging the ground. Storm looked to her silent captor: 'the Sapphire diamonds are in the carriage, you may take it and leave, I will tell no one of this night or your face' Storm looked at his impossibly beautiful face as his hair danced in the breeze, she would never forget his face but she would never speak of it. Storm waited expectantly keeping her eyes on the rest of the shadows, hoping he had no bloodthirsty mates. ' You think I come for riches, you are mistaken Lady Sapphire' Storm was shocked, he knew who she was, her heart began to beat faster and tears were rolling down her cheeks. ' You know who I am!' Her highwayman regarded her with warm amusment!? Amusement, Storm was confused. ' I know more than your name Storm Sophia Sapphire, I know that on your fifth birthday, you were sent a jet stone larger than your fist and your mama wouldnt let you keep it, I know that on your seventh birthday, you felt sure a raven spoke to you but no one would believe you, I know on your fifteenth birthday, you found your bedroom filled with thousands of purple roses and no one could explain whence they came, I know in your 21st year, a beautiful black mare was at your door with the little black pearl necklace you wear even now tied to her saddle and despite your being an expert rider your mama never let you ride this horse, Serena is what you called the horse is it, Lady Storm? Storm was shaking, those were details of her life she never told anyone, strange things had happened to her yes, but she had always assumed she had an eccentric great uncle some where, who her mama didnot like who had done all of the things to make her mama sometimes weep and sometimes look terrified. ' Who are you?' Storm looked at the man who stood in front of her, his shoulders covered in some sort silver metalic armour, from whence flowed a cloak, he looked like a Banbury player with the great broadsword he wore yet he emitted a deadly aura of danger, Storm could not understand how he knew all this about her. ' My name is Doyle of the Dark, I am the King of Sorrows and I come for you!' Storm almost laughed aloud, 'the King of Sorrows? There is only one king in the this england, do not presume a title will cow me, my father is a duke!' Storm may have been afraid and unsure but she would not be bamboozled by a charlaton! 'No he is not, your father Lady Storm is the high lord Ameron of the high Fae court, your mother made a deal with the fae Lady Storm, she wanted a beauteous son, and Lord Ameron most beautious of us all obliged, in return for her perfect glorious boy, your mother promised us, that her second child by Lord Ameron, would return to Faerie. You were meant to return at your 21st year on Serena as your mother well knew, yet she tried to keep you from us, so now I am sent to look to you and return you to the fae courts.' Storm felt herself grow breatheless, this could not be, her tall blonde father, who called her princess and visited her every night to say goodnight was not her father and her mother knew. ' I know my father, he is the Duke Sapphire and what is this talk of fae, I am no green girl, to be taken with talk of childhood fancies and Byronic poetry!' He looked at her sharply at this. ' Then tell me Lady Storm, have you never found strange things happen around you, like the plants around your manor blooming in winter snow, or animals who seem to trust and love you, what about how when you are sad, it seems to rain, how when you smile, the suns seems to awaken, have you never seen things through the corner of your eye and wondered what they were?' Even as he said them, she knew his words were true, her tears instantly brought rain, her father need not keep a greenhouse for he had her all she need do what touch a tree and talk to it a little and it would bloom and flower as never before. Her mother had called her a greenfingers, Storm often saw things she could not explain, she would turn but never see them full on, her mother had dismissed her waking visions as a lively fancy. Storm looked up at this man who claimed to be the King of Sorrows, and finally gave in to tears she felt her self sway and as she knew she would his arms reached out to steady her. Everything she ever knew seemed a million miles away from her, she was not a Dukes daughter, not a Sapphire and her mother knew. Storm felt Doyle's heartbeat, as he drew her closer to him, she stood still as she found herself now firmly in his embrace. ' It is not so bad, Lady Storm, you are a princess among our people and your mama was only trying to protect you as she saw best' How did he know that was what had struck at the heart of her, his words seemed to answer her questions before she asked them. She drew up her head and looked at him, in his icy eyes, ' It was my fae father then that sent me those things?' At this Doyle seemed to draw back from her, his hand slid of her waist to his sides and Storm felt suddenly cold. 'It was not Lord Ameron my lady, it was I that sent you those things' Doyle was not meeting her eyes as he had since the beginning of the night. Storm looked at his face, where his magnificent eyes looked stubbornly at the ground. ' You, but why? ' He hesitated for a moment, ' I sent them because you are mine, your father promised you to me and I have watched and waited even when you cried frustrated that no one chose you, wanting to tell you that I chose you' His words seemed to linger in the night air and permeate her skin. 'You chose me? Storm wondered at the beauty of the King of Sorrow, and now he was looking at her, in his eyes Storm saw the gaping hole she was sure the world saw in hers. His hands, which she was sure had held sword trembled as he drew it up to run a finger down her cheek, and in that moment Storm felt her heart bend a little, she turned the curve of her face into his hand, and managed to smile at him. Storm was surprised when in response to her smile, he drew his hand away and turned from her his cloak billowing as he turned away. ' Lady Storm I am the King of Sorrows, I am not a high fae lord, I am king of the darkling throng, and all things return to my court to face the consequence of their actions before moving on. I do not have light and I do no have a court of brightness and revelry as does your father, Lord Ameron gave you to me to keep my sword and my people in alliance to him, but I would not bind one as yourself to me, Lady Storm I free you, you know the truth of your provenance and I will honor my treaty with you father, go and live your life and be forgiving of your mother, she would protect you for she loves you. Later Storm would come to realise that it was in this exact moment that she fell in love with Doyle. He could have come swooping down upon her like a nightmare even as a mere mortal he could have taken her by force, given his fae warrior nature, he could have overpowered her and gone but he was letting her choose, he was giving her truth. She assumed he had magick but she knew instinctively he was not employing it against her. Storm walked around him, till she was facing him again, 'where is Hanson?' 'I put him to sleep, he is most protective of you Lady Storm. I shall wake him and he shall not remember me' Storm looked at Doyle, his eyes glowing, and his face like an angel carving. She knew this would be a defining moment of her life, she could go back to her old life, live the rest of her days as an old maid writing and keeping house for her mother or she could go with Doyle. 'Is laughter forbidden in your kingdom, is it like the Churchs vision of hell?' Doyles looked at her with hope so apparent in his eyes that Storm knew instantly, here was a man who knew the definition of alone. ' It is beautiful in its own way, I will not lie, the wicked are punished but the good enjoy paradise, laughter is not banned, I just haven't had cause to laugh much in the years travailed.' Then even softer ' I miss laughter'. Storm reached down and placed her hand into his, her small hand dwarfed in his massive grip. 'Then take laughter back' Storm smiled up at him, it was time for her grand adventure, her giddy happiness, her handsome stranger! Storm imagined Doyle in the ballrooms of London, the women would swoon he was that beautiful and what amazed her more was his choosing of her, he had watched her as a child, seen her become a woman and still gave her credit for being able to choose her own fate. Doyle still looked unsure, Storm reached up to touch his magnificent hair. ' I am choosing to go with you' Storm watched as wonder transfixed his features, he drew her up and swung her in the air, Storm caught her breathe as he soothed her hair back ' I have watched you and waited, hoping your fae nature kept the human suitors away, afraid of what I would do to the man smart enough to fall in love with you, Storm I know the lines of your body when you dance, your laugh, your tears, I have watched your kindnesses and seen your heart break all the while aching to tell you to take you' Storm could not shut her eyes as he descended to kiss her she was afraid she would open her eyes and find she had been dreaming! He held fast to her as if he were afraid she would vanish, as she watched he motioned to the shadows and from the mist appeared ten mounted men on winged horses, they were all magnificent but to Storm none more beautiful than him, one them deposited a softly snoring Hanson inside the carriage, Doyle smiled as he lifted her onto the mount and Storm felt her tummy lurch as a warm rush of blood suffused her face, as the horses took to the sky, Doyle turned to his man and gave instructions for word to be sent to her mother. ' Now my Lady, wonders await you' 'I have awaited wonder all my life, Doyle, oh and Doyle do I have to be the Queen of Sorrows? She felt his shoulders shake as London dissapeared beneath them, his laughter booming in the cool night air, ' You can be anything you choose, just be mine' Storm felt her self smile against his muscled back, her happy after had only just begun

Shadows

The vaults of heaven opened and out marched the immortal dreams of a thousand and one desert heat nights...This dream entraps the liquid memories of the skin, melting the molecules till I am changing shape vaulting to ether, flowing in the slip stream of this thing, in this place where the mute shout and the sick are made whole, I open up the doors where only you may go and we stride unbowed and wild and young meeting the shadows of the girl I used to know and the boy she fell in love with. This place which travels within us, the rush of potential where we go, fleeing with a sudden rush of wings. It is the complete moment settling sweet in my mind, dissolving like rock sugar leaving the memory of fulsome sweetness. I can not turn back from the woman I became and the man you are, hate is a concept they do not understand and they dance slow waltzes around the unsealing cuts of separation. Craving yet fleeing bondage, clinging to the artifice of indifference yet standing soul enslaved. In a second we end the world in a second we create the multiverse. In words unsaid and half truths we are as master thespians letting tears rain only when the curtain falls. Fleet are the seconds of time as they pass by and ensorcel and encircle layer after layer, encounter after encounter each time the bitter bind of pain draws us even tighter in orbit to the other. This time I will not play, I do not lay down for the lions. No one may walk in the sacred places and I lock away the shadows of the sad eyed girl and her insatiable love. Never to return again, a hunger I will never fill, through reams of paper I write a thousand heroes, I exorcise your ghost , with salt and holiest charms I keep you from me. Someday I will stop looking up, someday your shadow will stop falling before me, I am the whole creature and I consume the exquisite nude pain of loosing you. Someday I will lobotomize the silken wrap of pleasure in your hands, the warm caramel of your words, the aching sensation of flight, the frenzied strumming of arched heart strings and that day I will greet the world with out you. Until then I am curled around the safety of high sacred memories, cauterizing the nerves of my exposed soul as I put on my armor and smile in the land of the blind kings. I journey on, a one of two, a one learning one in the border lands where the light of love forgot to fall...

Beastly

He is a magnificent beast and I, I be his beast tamer, when the lights rise and he walks me on the stage, I hear the gasps from the crowd. That such as me would control such as him.
The whip of the arena does not sound for us, we are locked in the steps of a waltz older than he older than me Inside the music, we stop time, he and me. The sawdust of the arena and roars of delight escape us, I narrow into only he and my beast he has gaze for only for me. He watches me with his great dark eyes, and though he can not spk to me then I feel his thoughts keenly as an assasins dagger. We enslave the arena and the women swoon at my daring and his ferociouness. We do as we must he and me, we make sure they do not see and as the ringmaster returns they will not let us go. . . But we bow as we must. . .in the dark unseen spaces behind the great tents we seem to dissappear.
Some brave souls remain as the show is done, they look for my beast, Others seek me in the shadows behind the candy cane striped canvas, gallant dandies and the sons of honest fathers, they wish to save the girl from the beast. What they find they soon forget but such is the magick of this thing. In the shadows behing the showy red striped tent, the two clowns are asleep wrapped in a spangled blanket, tears marr the fine white of their make-up. They may come upon the flying trapeeze couple, taking wing in the night sky Angels, those seekers may find Madam Bellona among her horses, who speak in voices and have the chests and faces of men, a lost godess and her last hunt. Some come further still and make it past Hercules the resident strong man, yes that Hercules as he chats with the very stern faced magician of our stage once great enchantress Lady Morgaine. And further still the entrepid may come upon our ringmaster especially tired, his whip now a sword, arthur the once king now mere master. And at the end of these, should a seacher persevere he will come upon me curled up with my magnificent beast as we count the stars here. He will watch us laugh and love as we have done ever more. He will see us speak in a language deeper than words. He will see my magnificent beast with his wide corded shoulders and deep bass voice draw as I write our wonderings upon my great book. The seeker may find me magnanimous and I may tell him my story: a tale told in many guises, sometimes I am a princess of Snow white skin , others peasant girl with golden hair sometimes my beast a prince whose valour is famed, others he is himself, darkly beautiful. I will tell him of the Circus of Lost Dreams and how we the last heroes and myths man believes in float from city to city sustained on belief. He will listen to my tale and he will think himself a wise man. Some even vow to believe, to read the old stories so that we may be sustained. But on the touch of sunrise he will find himself asleep in an empty field. He may wake changed touched by the magick of stories, then again he may wake and continue his life ignoring the stories. And somewhere in a city many years from there where the citizens wipe sleep from their eyes, A circus has appeared where there was none last night, and the people watch as Bellona wipes down her centaurs taking them for horses, they see tumbling and swinging when the angels soar, they see a whip when excalibur sings and as the show reaches a climax and the magnificent beast and his keeper enter, they see fear and fright where we are the oldest of love stories. And as I loose myself in the world of my beautiful beast, I take comfort that whilst they may not know us as lovers. They feel what we are and deep in all their secret places love is alive as ever and as long as they keep faith with love, this belief will be enough so that I may forever be with he, he my magnificent beast and I his onliest love. . .

The Words of Somara As She Faces Hern the Horned Lord in Battle

(When Somara came face to face with the Viking Lords, these were the words...she spoke)

And her vengeance shall fall upon you like a voracious cloud, for all she was of softness and light, to you she will seem as a storm, her light falling upon your face like lightening, she will permeate the very bedrock of your being seething within your ground flow till you forget the beating source of you. She will be as a veil of a darkness shielding the warmth of the sun from the plains of your soul. You have shackled her as a child, you have plundered her as a woman, now she rises as a warrior and she will be as rain steadily eroding the cliffs of your arrogance, she will be as water is within and without all that surrounds you, and as you seek to understand one form she will evaporate into another. She will forgo all softness, when her hands come upon you with them fall the shadow of death. She will never be gone from you, she will walk with your sons and their sons and their son's sons so that all who hear your name should curse alliance with you! She is as close to you as the darkness of your sins and as you can not cleanse them, so too you will fail to cleanse your line of her taint. Thus I speak Storm Lord and so mote it be. . . You struck me down un knowing but I shall rise to fall upon you and yours like a black bane for I am She, she of the dark moon, she who walks both lands, she who conquered death, she who gave her life so that the land may live, she whose scales will weigh your soul, she who walks the path of the 7 mysteries, I am SHE that the Romans call Venus, She that the Greeks called Athena, She the Babylonians name Astarte, She the Assyrians name Inanna, She the Egyptians name Isis, the queen of heaven! It was my voice that sang the universe into being, it is I that called forth men and beasts, but now It shall be my hand to call forth your doom, I ride out with steeds of smoke and hounds of flame and I hunt Dias Immortalis, I am SHE whose will can not be denied, and my will is your death, I am she that will reap your soul, SHE who will hunt you like a hind upon a midnight moor, SHE who wears the lines of your murder like a badge of glory! She whose legend will out live your own, she into whose cloak the dark night comes to rest. She who will unmake you I am SHE. And as I will it so mote it be !

Birth of a Legend

Somara Siobhan watched from the tower above the gates, her hand rested ever on the turquoise pommel of her sword. She was the gate keeper of Siobhan castle, she was chosen among all her sisters and cousins. She would never forget the day she received the calling, like all the women of her line on reaching her womanhood she had spent the night at Goddess falls, unlike her sisters and cousins, she had seen the lady rise from the water. She came back wearing the goddess marks on her shoulders and down her arms and that had decided her fate. Her sisters and cousins had rejoiced for they were now free to marry and bear children.

For Somara she was schooled in languages with the sons of Lords, she was trained in the arts of war, she was taught the ways of the wise Druids and being as she was goddess touched, she exceeded all the young men of her age. Somara had drawn her blade from the rock at Goddess falls in her 20th year and with that she had assumed her duties. Now it had been ten years that Somara. Siobhan had watched over the keep and in her time she had killed mauruading men, defeated bog beasts, held the keep against Vikings and kept the peace dealing justice, Somara's sword had earned the name of Soul Snatcher, and she herself had become afeared as her legend spread through the four directions.

Somara felt the reassuring pulse of Snatcher at her hip as she watched the men in her charge and surveyed the keep before her. The sun loomed over the ocean, lavishing it with wild colour to make up for the long darkness of the night almost nigh and Somara awaited the return of all the citizens of Siobhan keep, night was a time of peace and deep thinking for her, She watched the women came from the fields. And as she watched there in the distance she saw it, dust from horses feet. She rang the bell at once and as the women harried behind the gate. Somara's battle cry rallied the men at arms to her and as the horsemen came to the keep, Somara awaited them at the locked gates.

Somara's unflinching gaze remained steady as the armoured horsemen swept into the valley. They were twenty in all, hammered armour gleaming in the twilight, he at their head wore a golden circlet and torques riding his wide arms. His hair was almost as flax and as he dismounted her stood almost two heads above Somara. His eyes were like those of a great woods wolf and he stood straight as Somara drew her sword:
'What seek you in the lands of Siobhan?'
His odd yellow gaze held hers as he spoke:
' we seek counsel with the Legendary Gatekeeper of Siobhan. We come in peace, Lady'
As was custom, he then offered Somara his sword pommel first, showing the honour of his words through his willingness to be without arms. Somara accepted his sword, and with word from her the spiked gates were opened and the lord of the keep waited to welcome the guests. Somara bowed in the visitors and then she was gone. Even as the blonde giant and his men were swept away on a welcoming tide, she disappeared out the gates to do the nightly patrols. Somara never met with visiting Lords, she kept her own counsel, to whom could she speak?

The women feared her, the men resented her prowess and even though they all respected her, Somara did not have the softness of love. As she approached the slow murmur of Goddess falls, Somara slowed she sat on the same stone she had since that fated night 10 years b ack. Somara could see the entire keep from her vantage, its lights gleaming, music riding the air, she would lay down her life for them and when she would die, her body would be interred below the walls so her spirit would always guard the people of Siobhan, yet none of them knew her. Only the little children would come to her of their own will, none else dared approach her. Sometimes days would pass and the only words she spoke would be commands to her second Brastias. She kept her vigil in silence, when she heard it, a slow repetitive sound of cloth being beaten against rock. Somara was at once alarmed, which house would allow their daughter out at this hour, how had she gone out city gates? Somara turned to find a woman, not a girl washing dark clothes on the rock exactly beneath the falls. Somara could not believe this woman had sneaked past her! She stood up and hailed the woman, the washer woman at the falls looked at Somara with a grey gaze very much like her own.
' Somara of Siobhan, well met'

Somara was alert, her hand on her throwing dagger, she did not know this woman who hailed her by name. Somara returned her greeting with one of her own:
' Well met, daughter'

The woman stood up and Somara was shocked at her height. The washer woman stood tall as Somara herself, and like Somara she had glossy black hair flowing down her back. She regarded Somara with amusement in her grey gaze:
' Daughter? Why Somara of Siobhan do I appear a youngling?!'
Somara answered with caution as she palmed her daggers:
' No but as one sworn to war, I have no sisters, you hailed me by my name and as such know as Goddess touched all women and men are as children in my protection'
The washer woman smiled at Somara's words,
'You claim Goddess touched, yet you do not know me Somara?
At once the white dress of the washer woman disappeared and the Black cloak and armour of Baine Dub Morrigen(the Black Morrigen) replaced them. Somara gasped as the black thunder eagle came to rest on the Goddess's shoulder and her steeds of smoke and flame appeared in the clearing. Somara drew snatcher and sank to her knees.
'The Dark star of the heavens, she who is the writer of fates, the three who are one, I offer you the blood of my sword, the soul of my body and the loyalty of my heart'
Somara spoke her vow every Beltane and Samhain and the words flowed as ever. Somara felt the goddess draw closer,
'Rise Somara of Siobhan, you are ever among the faithful, you have earned your place in the Summerland besides your sisters in Hall of All Days'
Somara rose and before her she saw the full and fearsome form of Baine Dub Morigen.
' I come to you as the dark star, as the Black Morrigen, as a warrior, for only a warrior may understand a warrior heart'
As the Goddess spoke, she drew inches of the ground a halo of light over her body, her hair blowing in an unseen wind. The goddess looked toward the keep below.
'You have visitors below, you host the blessed and exalted Wolf Lord, Llugnir App Gwain.'
Somara felt alarm shoot through the veins of her sword arm, the wolf lord was a famed warrior and the Baine Dub Morrigen was a goddess of warning! Somara wished to turn and run, had she left her lord vulnerable?!
' Stay your panic, daughter, Llugnir does not pose any danger to you and yours, in fact I bring him to you with a purpose.
The Goddess touched her hand to the curve of Somara's face:
' I made you a wonderous and fearsome thing Somara, I knit you in my image, placing some of my essence with in you, you are as close a daughter of my flesh as a goddess may come, War is coming to the Green Isle Somara, we can not escape it' It will be a bloody battle for the very soul of this land, many will die before peace returns but the peace will be a lasting peace and one high king will unite all Eire under my banner. This high king shall unite the fey, the sidhe and the race of men and be victorious in every battle. This high king shall bear mine own sword and ride mine own steed, I shall gift this High king the cloak of Ravens so that this high king may hide in plain sight of his enemies.'
Somara understood her path now:
' I accept your will my lady, I will fight with Llugnir and until he is high king'
The Goddess laughed such a joyous sound that it seemed to fill Somara's mind like mead and curl the edges of her own mouth.
' Somara Siobhan, Mistress of Soul Snatcher, whose eyes are as mine, whose hair is as mine, whose magick stems from mine, who is my mortal daughter, I did not make you to be a follower, you are the high King and Llugnir comes to follow you!'
Somara lost her normally regimentally organised thoughts
' I a high king, I am but a solider'
' yet you are mine and this is what you are meant for, yet I will offer you choice, you may return to Siobhan as you are gifted and fierce and you will fight for your keep, Llugnir will fight alone and the other races will escape to the Summerland, another flag will fly and I will be gone from the race of men. Your keep will survive the war and so shall you but Eire as we know her shall change. Or you may meet with Llugnir, rise with him to the lands of the Sidhe for he is of a Sidhe father and barter their alliance, you will return and you will fight, it will be long and bloody and Siobhan will fall to rise again but you will end as high king, with Llugnir as your consort, the mother of fine sons. Men will follow you as they follow me. What say you Somara?'.

Somara thought carefully, her people and her destiny warred in her mind, should she preserve her keep and let the Eire fall? Somara looked at her arms and her tattoos she felt the pulse of magick in her hands, she looked at the grave eyed Goddess and She was decided
' I do not seek war or glory, but if war is upon me I must fight, If there is glory to be had I will win it' I am your's Lady, all I am and all I will ever be is through you and I will fight under your banner till the skies bleed and this earth stand still, as long as you sustain breathe in this body I will stand in your faith against your enemies and the enemies of the land of my fathers!' ' Sin Siriche Baine Dub. App Morrigen A Nualde!' (By the name of the Black Morrigen, I am the black death of battle!)
The Baine Dubh Morrigen looked in wonder at this her mortal child:
' your vow is true and your courage untold, for this I bear you blessings.'
As she spoke, the Goddess became Suniriche Rhiannon, the maiden, in her hands the chalice of the ages:
' As you must travel among the Sidhe and fey I give you true sight no spell or glamour will stand before you,
so saying she touched Somara's eyes with water from the chalice.
'And so that words do not deceive you I give you true hearing, you will tell the ring of truth from words tainted with lies'
so saying she touched Somara's ears. '
And so that men will follow you I give you the gift of true speech!'

The goddess drew back and before Somara Rhianon of the Spring became Danu of the Hearth in her pure white rainment with gold ornaments, her hair of flame flowing in the breeze
' I give you the torques of Cruce'
so saying Somara felt the golden bands appear and fasten around her wrists,
'They bear gold from the Summerland and will bring you safely to home and hearth how ever far you may roam, My other gifts may not be of power but love and family are a magick of their own. I give you these rings, without end and without beginning from starsteel they will seal the hand fasting between you and Llugnir so that your bond will be unshakable and you will find each other no matter how dark the night. And finally I give you the gift of three bairns. Two shall be heroes, who will earn fame and acclaim and one shall be a daughter so fair that Sidhe princes shall claim her and she will reign in the Summerland'
So saying Danu vanished and the Baine Dub Morrigen stood before Somara.
'Give me snatcher'
the goddess commanded as Somara presented Snatcher to the Goddess and she grasped the pommel it changed, the turquoise hilt became a blood ruby and the steel became darker,
'this is of fairy make, the Baine Dubh (black death), it will never fail you! Then the Morrigen drew her hands in the air and a steed appeared black as night,
'She is Thunder, she is swifter than time and she will carry you with pride through realms no man bred horse could reach. The Morrigen then draped a cloak of raven feathers over Somara,
'Wear the raven cloak and you will be shielded from the gazes of all who seek you. But above this all Somara I gift you this: Invoke me by blood and blade and I will answer, before every battle my eagle shall go before thee, he who names you his enemy, makes an enemy of me, for you are mine Biodh sé amhlaidh !'
At the words of the Goddess lightening flashed to the ground and the great eagle cried once twice thrice! Somara looked to the goddess.
' I am your knight and I fight to the death of my enemies and yours, for the honour of you and the glory of your legend! Walk with me OH Mighty Mistress of the Dark places, let our shadows go before us and death sweep our enemies like a tide'
Somara rose to find the Lady gone but there in her hand was the Ruby pommel of Snatcher, in the ground next to where she knelt stood the red standard of the Black Goddess emblazoned with her eagle. She tucked the two rings into her doublet and slung her cloak over her shoulders marvelling at the golden cuffs on her wrists. The horse of midnight was readied with silver saddle and as mounted her, Somara felt Thunder shiver with anticipation. The weight of her fate rose easy on her shoulders and as she flew into the keep below the great eagle cried once twice thrice.
Somara burst through the doors of her lords great hearth room and gasps rose from the hall for if they thought her fearsome before now she was terrifying, her beauty holding an edge of animal ferocity terrible to behold.
' The Morrigen herself stands in my hall'
exclaimed her Lord. Somara had eyes only for the Wolf Lord.
' I answer yes to you Llugnir of the Sidhe, let us seal this vow now.'

So saying Somara drew the rings of fastening from her doublet. Llugnir came forward, only then did Somara see He too was Goddess marked. He drew the ring from her palm and as he placed it in her finger, he spoke Sidhe vows
' I will go with you through hell or heaven, I will fight by your side, let your enemies know me. I will walk with you through the count of your years ever faithful. I forsake all others to share your flesh, I forsake the pleasures of the summer lands lest you are with me, So I am given let us be bound'
Somara thought she saw the red flame of Danu's hair in the crowd and as she returned his vow. She thought she heard Danu's voice resound with So mote it be!
She answered the question in Llugnirs eyes with her next words
' We ride'.
As the four riders sped out the keep, towards the southern Summer Lands, Somara thrust Snatcher skyward
' Sin Siriche Baine Dub. App Morrigen A Nualde!'
Her cry was echoed in the sky and as she thundered toward her destiny, the Legend of High King Somara app Baine Dubh Morrigen ( daughter of black goddess Morrigen) Mistress of Wolf keep, Beloved of the Wolf Lord Llugnir , mother to Gwain the Great, LlweLyn the Conquering Lion and Aeval Queen of the Summerland was born!

Games . . .

I have lived through many a year, many great tides of men have passed, many kings have risen only to fall again. This very earth has shifted and changed faces, yet in the dark separate places she remains the same. I have seen it all, always on the edge of the lives of mortal men, I have watched them grow and evolve yet I had yet to find him, the once and future King.

In our time we were many things him and I. The witch and the golden king, an enchantress and a warrior, A wicked woman and a righteous man, A defeated priestess and a pillaging barbarian, I the keeper of the chalice, He ever seeking it, mother and father, enemies and lovers . . .For we played on a scale that has fallen from the understanding of modern man. He and I like old friends over a chess board putting into play, our great tale...
The Merlin, he knew us, he knew our truth, we were his greatest delight and his greatest pain. He chastised us and laughed with us in equal measure, He knew what we knew that for balance to remain, us two must always be, ever in our roles changing and rearranging but always so . . . He did all he could Merlin Of the Old Way, to bind our bond, yet the light of the once and future King was to great. It drew many lesser sparks to him, among them the Green Knight, he had his mother in him, water borne of the lady of the lake, and he was mutable! The most perfect knight! He and the King became as brothers and I watched, I fought and I hoped! Then she came, Gwenivire of the fair hair, the daughter of a far flung proxy lord, still I watched, I gave peace and I waited! She became the Lady of Camelot and still I watched, I bided my time, numbed the edge of my pain and I hoped! Then as she had enslaved the Golden King, so too she bent the gaze of his most faithful, still I watched for I felt the weight of fate upon me! She ended it all, she upended the board and flung our pieces to the four winds! Gwenivire the fair tore apart this Camelot, she didn't play her hand and leave to come again in another guise, she brought knight against King and father against son! At the end she had vanished and I stood in the ruins, the mother of a dead boy, the lover of a once and no more king.
The Merlin knew as did I that the world would not rise to the belief that the goodness of a man lies in his honour, with my King lay righteousness and good slain. The balance has been lost, and I Morgaine have sought him ever since, I have kept watch over the affairs of men, I am not one to weep and bewail my fate, as Gwenivire did, I simply know what I must do and I seek him!
And tonight all my magicks have brought me here and as I doff my cloak and enter the room, I spy the Merlin already here. I march up to the barkeep and he opens the trap door. I descend. The doors to the after-world may have shifted through time but the living may not pass here even immortals such as I fear to travail, but I am no petty humanling, I am the Morgaine and things of the dark know my name. I come upon things that would drive men mad, claw out their eyes to unsee those sights. I never waiver and my feet never leave the path. I am the Morgaine and no mere door will block my way. I kill things and rend their spirits, I make their flesh into my bread. I am the Morgaine and I descend even hell should fear my vengeance.

The once and future king is the end of my path, his body guarded by the sisters three, maiden mother crone. They turn to me and speak in one voice that is three: what seek you here Morgaine of Avalon? Seek you to revive your fatal foe, seek you to revive the murderer of your son, seek you to revive the man that broke your woman's heart? For know this daughter of dark, if u raise the once King, you raise all of Camelot, even Gwenivire will eventually rise. Know this Morgaine, We know you we see you sister and we will let you return unscathed, only if you do not claim the once King. Theirs was no empty threat for between the trinitrate goddesses was power enough to best even me, but I had eaten the fruits of the dead, I had come to the seventh ring of the after world, I drew Excalibur and it burned with blue flame. They drew back at this, Excalibur, their eyes following me, this they did not expect, I take Excalibur and I place it in his hands, the three cry out as one and such light fills the seventh ring as they have never seen!

He is rising I feel my blood quicken and my magick spring to life, the closer he comes the more spiral of power with in me grows. The three are gone, only one remains, she the crone looks at me with sad eyes, Morgaine Arthurs bane, you have brought your enemy back and he will be all he ever was. . . But this I give you for your courage: when this round of your dance is through, you will rest together him and you! I turn from the place, for Arthur lies on the slab no more. I fight my way and kill and maim, until I see the trap door, as I ascend, I hear his laugh. My skin quickens to the sound, as I pull on my cloak and turn to leave I feel it again, the world rebalancing, he is here!

Once again I will size him up from the other side of the board, we will fight, we shall fall we shall rise and this time on Goddess's vow, this time I shall rest besides him when it is all over. As I turn to leave, the Merlin, comes to me: stay he implores me, stay beside him, be the mistress of this Camelot, you are his match, his balance, he tells me!

All this I know, but also I know I may not stay! I must prepare, I must fight, eternally over the spirits of man, the twin dragons of good and dark! But I know too that I will curve my hand around the softness of my sons face, and I will bide a time in another century with the once and always King and I will rest by his side but for now there are games afoot and I am the Morgaine, there are plans to plan, schemes to make and alliances to earn. I escape in to blessed darkness, the golden time of Arthur had come again, and this time I played to win